September 2021, a month before mom’s surgery, I was extremely sad and anxious. I would get frequent migraine attacks and panic induced headaches. I used to cry a lot.. like you wouldn’t believe. I would cry for every simple displeasure.. a minute finger cut, any emotional video, any news of death or injury.. like every fucking thing. I secluded myself from most people and liked to be alone. I had no will to exercise or walk or talk. I would get tired for after miniscule amount of work. Any energy I spent was for my mother’s well being and nothing else. After a rather depressive episode my mother asked my brother to take me to a doctor.
And that was when I saw a psychiatrist. And as soon as I met him I started crying. Like I was waiting for someone to hear me.. to recognise my suffering, to see how difficult it has been for me. It didn’t take much to open up about everything. I was ready with my story. I was waiting for this moment for years. For someone to listen. We spent an hour together that day and after another hours long teary session with a junior doctor , he diagnosed me with anxiety, depression and chronic grief. He started some meds but more than that he referred me to a therapist.
I was finally in therapy. Years ago I dreamed of few things I would achieve by the time I was thirty. Going to therapy was never on my list. But shit happens… Anyway, therapy was good. I am a perfect candidate for therapy. I am open to conversations, I like sharing the story of my life with strangers ( like you guys) and l have too many thoughts. My initial sessions were full of tears so much so that I made my therapist cry one day. ( I count that as an achievement). Two kinds of therapies were suggested for me, one for my grief and the other CBT. I don’t know how efficient CBT was for me but I managed to accept my grief. I told her all the things that I could never tell Akash..I laughed and I cried.. I yearned for him and after few sessions the yearning was gone.. the guilt of letting him go was gone.. I could talk about him with a smile on my face instead of tears. While these sessions were going on and I was overcoming my issues I was taking care of my mother and in Dec 2021 or Jan 2022 it became too much for me. As much as I loved my mom and wanted to do everything for her, I was mentally and physically exhausted. That’s when my therapist said that I had caregiver’s burnout. I had no life apart from being a care taker. It was also the month when all of us in the family caught covid. We had been careful throughout, so much so that we even more masks at home but all of us were suddenly sick. Barely two months since mom was discharged with her being extremely weak, we were all in disarray. Thankfully nothing major happened and all of us were healthy in around two weeks.
Finally in Feb 2022, we came back home. Triumphant, I believe. I was making progress with my mental health with the meds and therapy but it was a long journey. I had monthly appointments with the therapist and for that I would go to Delhi every month. My migraines were finally in control. I got like a single attack per week and that was incredible. All of 2021 I lived with so much pain that one day of pain per week was a relief.
I finally gained courage to take exams and I filled up forms for anything I was eligible for. I was not positive about clearing any of it but I was trying. Well, I failed them all. Every fucking exam. My confidence was in tatters and I didn’t know what else to do. The doctor helped me to face these failures but I don’t know how much of that was helpful. Also after the anxiety meds, I was not feeling many emotions. I had less thoughts, like my mind wasn’t so congested anymore … But with the bad thoughts, the good thoughts were gone too.
Cut to the present… I am stable. Normal. Not anxious. Not hopeful but not as hopeless too. Things are in control. I can’t think of moving out of home because my parents need me but I am trying to find something here. In the last two three months I have got some positive vibes but let’s see what happens in the future.
Now that I think of it, I am a decade behind my peers. In the last ten years, people my age have started working, changed jobs, got married, had kids while I am now starting to lead a normal life at 31. Tell me it isn’t too late. Tell me nothing is going to go wrong now. I have had my share of sorrows. I deserve a normal life. I deserve happiness. Tell me that it’s going to be okay.
Another new year is here. Year after year, I’ve hoped to see some progress in my life but that didn’t happen. I hope 2023 is the beginning of something good. I don’t want grand things.. a moderate amount of happiness would do. Hoping for a better year…a better life.
Thank you for listening to my rant. I promise the next time I write, it’s going to be about something positive. Till then…
PSEUDOMONAZ 
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