(This is long and boring and just urgh. So feel free to skip this one)
This past month has been so, so bad that I don’t even know how I’m even alive to write this. It’s not for the lack of trying, but we won’t go there today.
Stress and anxiety will kill you.
I’m not quoting some medical journal, these are my own observations. I had dealt with depression and mania in the past but this…this is different. I do everything right. I eat right, I do yoga, I dance, and my sleeping schedule is also decent. There was a time when I couldn’t fall asleep before 3:00 am, and now I can barely keep my eyes open till midnight. At any point of time, unless I have plans, I’m always asleep. I still make plans to go out in the hope that maybe my monotony is what ails me. I still do my make up and go around as if there is nothing that bothers me. I have only talked to two friends about it. I’m a little off topic. Yes, so the thing is that I know depression. I understand it. Being lethally depressed is kind of my comfort zone when compared to anxiety.
Anyway, the first thing to make me realize that there was something seriously wrong with me was when I went temporarily blind in my right eye after I woke up one morning. (I know, right?) I thought it was an allergic reaction because I tight line my upper-lash line or because I wore mascara a lot. I even had half a mind to sue Urban Decay. The doctor had a different opinion. After my vision came back in about 6 hours, the doctor told me to get some tests done to check my vitamin levels and told me to eat a lot of salads and vitamins and what not. I knew it then that this wasn’t caused by some vitamin deficiency but my mental health. I was one step closer to breaking down.
Then, about two weeks the app on my phone made me realize that my period hadn’t arrived for two months. The first thought in my head was, of course, “Holy shit, I’m pregnant.” But then logic kicked in that I wasn’t. I checked and also, I’d be gaining weight instead of losing it, if I was. It’s funny how we always jump to that conclusion. But anyway, this time I went to a gyno and that lady was so nice and concerned about me. She gave prescribed me some syrups and told me to do yoga. So I did exactly what she told me to do. It’s been more than a month but I’m yet to see any changes. “Aunt Flo” hasn’t visited either.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not ungrateful for the life that I have. I’m very, very grateful to be able to have a chance at higher education, food and shelter. I’m not saying that my life sucks. I’m saying I do. My mind has become so fragile that it’s not able to control my body. I’m losing touch of who I am. I cannot believe the person I’ve turned into. I wasn’t this brand-toting bitch who gave a crap about what the difference between blue toned red and orange toned red was. I had legit one pair of floaters and now look at me. I could be suicidal as all hell and yet my self esteem wouldn’t suffer. It’s super weird.
Again, my life isn’t all bad either. I go out a lot. I hang out at this place called “The Nest” almost every day. I read a lot over there. Whenever this certain friend of mine comes to town, those couple of days are always amazing. My anxiety levels drop drastically. I eat a lot more and I sleep better, too. I think he knows how much he helps because he’s started coming down more often than what I think is convenient. It’s not just him, my friends in general are lifesaving. When I was in my suicidal phase I talked to Ruchi and Bebo, friends of mine from school. If I’m alive today it’s mainly because of those two.
But still there’s this… Thing in my head. It’s just there and I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know what it is. I mean I have seen people die of stress. Hell, my baba died of stress, so I should know. Even if I don’t actively take actions to end my existence, it doesn’t matter. It’s happening on its own.
I’m sorry if it didn’t make a lot of sense. I don’t make sense, either.