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Picking myself up from the pits of depression


Story by Arpit

My bumpy healing journey starts at my University.

I was in my 2nd year of college when I became ill and skipped my classes for a month. Rumours about my death spread as I spend the whole day smiling in my balcony, listening to music, meeting friends and even playing football at times.

It felt as if the universe was telling me to stop and reflect. And I did; in that one month, I listened to my body, my emotions and my sadness.

Six months later I told my dad, I wanted to drop out of college for B.A. I was told to come home and discuss the matter in person. When I did reach home, I was put in a home jail for months, without even meeting a single person! My parents wouldn’t fund me on any other pursuit. I guess I had disappointed my father who wanted me to climb the ladder of societal stature even higher than he had.

It was a pandemonium, affecting all parts of my life, as I found myself facing depression; I felt lifeless. I was sad all day, and stopped expressing myself altogether at one point. I didn’t want to get up and do life.

My parents finally decided to take me to a psychiatrist as I had panic attack one day.

But, there is a certain sense of duality with which therapy functions. For example, you are told to take your happiness to your own hands, but they’d say, “no, that’s not good”, the minute you start to do so, They’ll prescribe you medicines that numbs and makes you drowsy. It doesn't mean, one should not ask for professional help. Therapy just did not work out for me. After all, different people cope and function differently.

Despite that, I am grateful for the two therapists who listened to me weekly, they gave me hope and reminded me that life wasn’t over. I know I couldn’t have done this without them. But I also know that I only started healing the day I took control of my life; the day I decided to pick myself up.

You see, depression is the unexpressed imploded energy and trauma is the tightness around the emotions in your body. And I healed from it, by feeling my raw emotions and expressing myself, by relaxing the physical tension around my emotions and by deciding and taking actions for a better mental state.

I began with dumping my pills down the washbasin and went on to locking away the people whom I knew were toxic, even if they were my parents.

I became financially independent instead of depending on my father for money. I gave myself the much needed approval rather than thinking about how my mother would feel. For the most part, I didn’t care about the relationship I shared with them because if I did care, there would be a compromised, weak man, still struggling in the depths of depression.

And so, I set myself free by opening up and learning to breathe.

The moment you start to speak and express yourself, you end up being labelled. But, I overcame depression by being shameless. I overcame depression by being unapologetic. I overcame depression by being the most insensitive jerk on planet Earth.

I think this is the process of a boy becoming a better version of himself, by being independent and strong, not just physically but mentally, emotionally, financially, and spiritually.

And of course, now I am happier and healthier than ever before.

Just do whatever it takes for you to be at a better place. Seek professional help, open up, prioritize yourself, anything that works for you.



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