The past 11 months

The scars on my hand looked dull the other day,

And I had the sudden urge to make them prominent again.

To cut open my skin and see the little drops of blood

Fall onto the porcelain sink. 

I didn't do it. 

Now, I wonder why.

Google so very kindly told me that today was World Mental Health Day, I guess it just wanted to let me know, without knowing what the title of the day actually meant to me. On my Facebook wall, I saw people posting about how we shouldn't ignore those who need help, that Mental Health really exists and isn't just another figment of the imagination of little less than half the world's population. I didn't know what to say, if I should post something or if I should just ignore it. I guess, as you're reading, you've realised what I decided upon. 

I was diagnosed with severe clinical depression and anxiety 11 months ago, in December of 2015. The diagnosis came with a lot of disbelief, anger and denial. I don't think there could have been any other form of reaction to something like this. To publicly acknowledge the fact that you have mental health issues is not something that you just do in Indian society. It's something that is talked about in hushed tones at parties, with people wondering if you're just faking it for attention. When I wrote my first "Dear Depression" letter, most of the people who read it thought I was making it up, or that I was talking about someone else. When I told them that I had depression, they didn't know what to say. I know that I am, in many ways, luckier than some others. I had the opportunity to get help, to have the support of my family (even if they didn't understand at times, they still stood by me) and to be able to be open about my illness. 

It has been quite a ride. From panic attacks in classrooms to not being able to physically get out of bed because I'm so tired, the past 11 months have been crazy. I don't know if I am getting better, or if I'm in that place where you're neither moving forward nor back. I don't know really. There are days when everything seems like it'll get better but then there are the days, which seem to be more than few, when the bad seems so much heavier than the good. Those are the days that I dread. 

When people ask what it's like, I never know what to say. I don't know how to explain it. Is it just being sad all the time? No. Is it feeling like you can't live anymore? Not exactly. I guess, I guess that it's just being in the middle all the time, where every single feeling is either magnified to the millionth degree or is absent and you are in a deep, dark void. It's being on either end of spectrum without really being on either end. It's having mood swings from one end of the earth to the other. One hour, you're okay, the next you want to run and hide from the world or jump off of the highest tower in the world. Its having every bad thing said to you playing on repeat in your head until you scream and pull at you hair trying to get it to stop. It's having no self-esteem but hiding behind the portrayal that you are a confident human being. Its your brain never being able to stop thinking. Its so many things blent together, that it can no longer be described. The again, mental health is subjective. It's not the same for everybody and I guess that's why it is so hard to explain what it truly is.  

There is one thing I can say for sure and that is that we're not making it up. We don't want attention, frankly we would rather hide in a hole than have you cooing over us. We just want recognition, to not feel like outsiders, to not be stared at. We want to say that we have an appointment with the Psychiatrist the same way one says that they have an appointment with the General Physician. We want to be able to show our bad sides and our good and not have you judge us because. We might yell at you to leave but we also want you to know that we need you around, we want you to stay but our brain are telling us that we're not good enough for you, that we should just push you away for your own good. Just know that we don't want you to leave because most of the time, all we really need is someone to hug us tight and tell us that everything is going to be okay.