TARAN • FEMALE • 25 • RUPNAGAR
Hello, Dear Reader,
If you’re here reading my story, then I guess you must be someone who is battling or who knows someone else who is battling mental illness. I wish to provide you with hope and courage through my personal story and my struggles and battles.
Growing up, I was that little tomboy girl with a bowl cut. I laughed, played, studied, and spent my vacations at my grandmother’s place as any normal child or teenager does. I was an extremely sensitive and reticent kid, largely due to my father’s sudden anger outbursts. Little did I know that the invisible monster which would cause me to shudder and sweat was “Anxiety”. Yes, I have had anxiety for as long as I can remember, and it was so debilitating that sometimes I had to lock myself in the washroom or my room for fear of being noticed and labeled as a weak or cowardly kid. Time flew and I grew, with my invisible companion who would suddenly emerge during exams or some extremely important occasions. But I was great at hiding it too and did so until my early 20s. I graduated, got a job, and felt proud to have achieved so much. However, this is where some life-changing experiences would occur, and this is where my real struggles with my anxiety companion began.
The corporate 9-to-5 life began and I was thrilled, sitting on that comfortable, well-cushioned office chair and working like an engineering geek. It looked like a dream back then. The job started, and I felt as ready as ever to learn new skills, work super hard, develop cordial friendships, and hang out with my colleagues, and I surely did achieve all of that. During all this time, my invisible companion was always there with me, making its presence felt and urging me to let it out, which I did. Lengthy crying spells every night and day had become a part of my routine. But I was bearing it all, never thinking once about what caused it.
A few months later, I got into a relationship that seemed like an oasis in the desert to me. Well, much to my dismay, it only served to aggravate my stress and my anxiety. I suffered from horrifying emotional trauma due to a myriad of reasons, a few so personal that just thinking about them terrifies me to the core. The toxic job and the toxic relationship had played their part in letting my invisible companion out, and this time into full-blown panic attacks. I had hit rock bottom and my body and brain went numb. I was in complete and utter denial that something so traumatic had happened to me. Then the phase of nocturnal panic attacks began, which were much more terrifying than any horror movie or evil spirit I had seen or imagined. I remember waking up in the middle of the night, crying helplessly, and calling my sister to just talk to me about anything. I would have gone to great lengths just to make that sinister thing go away. I don’t think I have ever experienced anything more painful than a panic attack. To help you envision how it truly felt, I’d like to quote a line from a TedTalk given by Mark Henick, a leading mental health advocate from Canada.
He said and I quote, “It felt like I am an asthmatic who had lost their glasses in a hurricane,” Truly I felt like something apocalyptic had happened. I was so scared of having another panic attack that I would avoid going to my flat after my office day ended. I would go out with a friend and every second would be filled with the hope that they would look at me and say, “Let’s go see a doctor, you aren’t okay.” I remember considering going to an NGO one day, thinking that God had punished me for committing a sin or doing something evil. It was a Sunday and all the NGOs were closed, which was understandable. But I had to go, I had to purify my mind and soul of my sins. So, I went to a gurudwara and gave the stuff that I had bought to donate to an NGO initially. I remember sitting there for hours contemplating how to survive another day. The thought of leaving the religious temple and going back to my flat terrified me to bits (a person suffering from panic attacks avoids going to places where they have already experienced a panic attack before for fear of having another one). So I stayed, I stayed for as long as the Babaji would allow me to. Finally, it was time to leave and I wandered the streets in search of something I didn’t even know. I couldn’t wander all night on the streets of Gurgaon, understandably. I took an auto from there and finally thought of going back to that dreadful place (my flat, I really would have loved the idea of spending a night in jail back then). It was the last place in the world where I wanted to be.
Fast forward a few days, and my hidden secret was revealed to one of my friends. Yes, I had a panic attack while I was sitting on the couch at his place. The guilt and shame I had afterward for letting him see something so scary was unimaginable. Mustering all my inner courage and feeble strength, I decided to go see a psychologist. I had no cards or cash with me (I had lost my wallet in an Uber on my way to a friend’s place). I already feared that I would be kicked out of the therapist’s office for not paying the fee; it was a miracle that nobody did. I sat there at a café in the hospital, savoring the time I had in that haven. There was an awfully cute and chubby toddler girl sitting just next to me; her presence and angelic face made my day, even if it was just for a brief moment. I can’t express how much I begged God to freeze moments like these. I forgot to mention, that I had finally gotten my questions answered by the therapist, and now I had a name for that evil spirit possessing me, which was “PANIC ATTACKS”. I had to go see a psychiatrist (he came like an angel bestowing some light on me). The final diagnosis came out to be Major Depression and Panic Disorder, and the worst part came when I was prescribed some dreadfully sounding antidepressants and sedatives. Quoting another line from a talk by Gill Hayes, “Taking antidepressants would be my failure to sort myself out.” As you may have guessed, I wasn’t taking my medication regularly, and this continued for a long time, which significantly slowed down my progress.
I left my job and I completely cut off contact with the person I was supposedly in a relationship with (it felt more like a prison sentence even though I loved him with all my heart). I continued my medication for about a year and I am still undergoing therapy, on an on/off basis. Relapses occur, but I have made my peace with them, and I know that they are a part of my recovery process (another insight I gained from a TedTalk by Hufsa Ahmad).
Honestly, I hate that period of my life, and I have asked this question countless times: Why did it happen to me? But, had it not been for this experience, I would have never discovered the true extent of my trauma and my long-standing companion; anxiety. It freed the caged bird, and even though the broken feathers hindered the bird’s flight, still she made every attempt to soar high.
I wrote poetry about mental health and shared it with people close to me. This phase helped me discover what I can endure and what I can do. It is a part of me, I can’t change it. The shame and guilt will only fuel the stigma, which I am here to break. I carry the scars of my past, but now I consider them like tools that chiseled me and made me better and stronger.
In the end, I hope you find the hope you need to battle your monsters and survive. Trust me, the little flicker of hope will always keep flickering, even if not burning. Find that flicker and protect it. I had my best friend by my side through most of my journey, and I would say, had it not been for him, I wouldn’t have found the will to survive. Find that person; it can be anyone. Tell them what you feel and the pain you experience. Trust me, that one call for help will ultimately be the first step to progress and recovery.
I wish you all the success and happiness in your life, and I hope you find the answers and inspiration you need from my shared story, as it is said, “Sharing is Caring”.
