Had I been a little kinder to myself in the past


If we get our feet dirty, no matter how many times during the course of a day, we jump at the given situations as such, and hurry to wash the dirt off them. When we starve out of hunger or feel languid because of the burning thirst, we nourish ourselves, as and all required in a complacent manner. If we can take care of our fundamental needs so well, we can definitely support our dreams and aspirations, notwithstanding the number of times, we have to start anew.

Now, depression and anxiety have been gaining quite a word for themselves in the recent years, gone by. Owning the complete locale of the minds of the suffering ones, with age being a mere enumeration; they have established a specific ground and, are severly affecting the mental as well as physical health of many, around the globe.

They befriended me too, under the facade of the natural tendencies engulfing my conscience and, started developing in the mind, the very moment, I revolted against failure. Pursuing three years of laborious preparations, for cracking the medical UG entrance exams, had hollowed out all the green spirits of life in me, leaving a soul, half-consumed and half-broken.

The skies, claiming to upheld the pantheon of hopes as suggested by the vast horizons they extend beyond, appeared always a mystical grey to me. During those years, I felt like an animal leashed to an iron pole, encircling the same region, in random bouts of unorganised thinking. The distance from my bed to the door knob, seemed one unattainable, due to the exaggerated imagination of my weary mind that stooped low, submerging itself in the turbulence of doomed resignation. Resignation indeed, from every element of life around me.

I grew weaker, the light in me slowly diminishing, leading my life closer to a sordid extinguishment. Heavy, volatile conscience providing a sobre inlet to the baseless thoughts, buried in the hidden cores of the nous, to emerge and irk me with their riveting grievances.

Gradually, I realised that no one could help me to break the chains of extreme depression, which had been slowly, snaking around the neck, strangling me to death.  

Then, came a simple afternoon in the third of my drop-out years, wherein, I was forced to run an errand for my mother, to the nearest bank in our locality. The social anxiety shuddered me to pieces and, I was shaking terribly throughout the entire transaction, barely able to pronounce my own name. As I was returning, I found a woman, with a face, brilliantly familiar to the memory; struggling with her bags of grocery. I hesitated for a second and walked silently beside her. But again, the mellow wind of spring, patting gently across my face, did wonder and the cold, soothing bloom of the air, warmed me strangely enough, as it was the first natural sensation I had, after a load of months, locked within the suffocating four walls of my room. It overwhelmed me and I paced up, reaching the lady, who was also the head of the assisting staff at the school I used to study, to lend her a hand. I caught all of her bags, and accompanied her to our lane. We talked and, oddly I responded. She left, and her last words struck me like a lightning, as she was pretty aware of my condition. She said, I had always been a chirpy girl and more than anything, utterly generous to the world around. Why don't I bestow some similar act of generosity to my own self, and accept the failure I had faced in the last few years.

I was dumbfounded and to the best, shaken sufficiently to allow the precipitating sweat to run frenzy along the sides of my face.

This incident alone, happening in one sight and one breath, was just the beginning of me, permitting the other logics to penetrate the prime area, that held relevance in my mind.

After this, I treated myself with a three-day trip, to a beautiful village, located at the outskirts of the city. I engaged the heart out, in a lot of activities that claimed my fancy. I figured, I had been ever worried about my grades, the money my parents spent on the education and the ill-sewn reputation of me, that the silly conversations of my neighbours deceptively induced. I had pipelined my perspective of viewing the world into robust metallic tubes of ignorant darkness, according to a few aspects that dominated singularly, the current phase of my life, obscuring the phenomenal paradigm of several realms that I could be a part of, only if I wished and been a little kinder to my poor self. 

I came back home, with my veins rejuvenated with the pacific sceneries of beautiful flowers and humble people. That day, I had the worst of panic attacks and one, that culminated in tearing all the books I had. I sat in the balcony and the tears sprang, railing my cheeks till the sun payed a visit. I was determined to salvage whatever was left of me.

A few days later, I decided to quit the preparations, just a week before the exam was scheduled to happen, and in an erratic manner, accepted two long-standing offers of private tution, that I had never given much deserving attention to. With the kids, I laughed and played. I taught them and witnessed the most enlightening experiences of my life. It never bore any importance to the existing knowledge, until my two poems bagged prestigious positions in a national level literary event, that I had favorably good skills in the articulation of words. With one month remaining for the college admissions, I took it to writing, enabling myself to absorb thoroughly in the newly admired passion, I was driven to. 

I took arts at college, with high expectations of recovering and stepping up to the so called state of normalcy.

Despite putting efforts into bringing the bundle of confusion I was, into a lucid shape, it was devastating for the first six months. Dragged by the insubstantial assurances I gave myself, about a new beginning in life, I was soon reduced to an epitome of desperation and I clearly remember, I was only a plunge away from taking my life. I recollected all the strength I had and this time, and started from the point, Where I had often found myself departing from the reality and at frequent, in vain, to soak my dry hopes in the virtual ocean of lies. 

I wondered about the lethargic slug I had become and so, I made it a point to regain my physical stamina and vigour. Initially, I worked out as per a regime suitable for a beginner. I allowed the sonnets, the prose and the profound philosophers of different literary legends, to bury their seeds in the convoluted folds of my nous and, gave them the liberty and requisite warmth to germinate and sprout into seedings of bright and refreshing epiphanies.

I gathered all the possible shades of dreadful energies in me and tried to convert them, into something constructive. I helped myself a lot, dressing the withered wounds, out of which, a few were blatantly apparent to the outside world and drew them to the pure process of healing.

To this very day, I face psychological episodes and am still dealing with the illness. The one thing that has changed is, I am not cruel to myself. I provide aid to the injuries when I get hurt. I take tender care of and, dedicate my spirits to strengthen the resilience in my heart.

Depression and anxiety, are never cured in a day, a week or an inordinately assumed period of time. It doesn't perish into vapours of oblivion, escaping the mortal world by the regular instalments of the medicines prescribed. However, it can definitely be controlled to moderation, with encouraging love and kindness that should but erupt from the one, oneself. As, when I reflect with a generous heart on the journey I covered so far, there are undeniably a few regrets. Nonetheless, that one significant mistake, which often leads me to a relentless stage of lamenting is, I wasn't kind enough to myself in the past and left the damaged her, to fight the world all alone, when she needed me the most.


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