Day 31 – Here and One More Time

“Hope is a tease, designed to prevent us from accepting reality.” – Dowager Countess of Grantham

People, I’ve noticed, tend to hold those in reverie who do not change their opinions. I used to be intransigent too, but I’ve since realised that one can never be too sure. If I have an opinion, I’ll hold on to it until I learn something that demands it to be changed, in which case, I’ll change it. I don’t mind. That’s how life is.

If you read my previous post, you’ll notice that something changed. It did, just like that. I never thought this post will be anything like it is.

I still have depression, but I’m off meds and have regained more than half of my lost strength. The anxiety and all are still there, picking up speed, and I know I’ll be attacked by them again, but, until that happens, I’m going to enjoy my life.

The quote in the beginning is from Downton Abbey, a TV show that I love. It pretty much explains my view on hopes, wishes, and prayers. I think they are the result of our subconscious efforts to avoid facing the truth or keep ourselves from worrying about the future, or anything else that is uncertain or out of our control.

I wrote a post for a blog. It’s about the beauty of lovelessness. I have never really fallen for anyone, ever, neither have I ever had a relationship. I find that calm and peaceful…but I’ll make you read that post and not give it away here. It will be published on on 28th Feb. I think I’ll share a link to it here when it goes live. It’s nothing too special, but it is something.

Earlier this week, I went to a writing workshop. It was conducted by Kavery Nambisan, a novelist from India. Pakistan and India have always had a tense relationship, and I’m not too sure how Pakistanis feel about Indians. There are those who dislike them, and then there are those like me who know that the people there are just as good as the people here, and are more focussed on the friendship.

I saw a post on Facebook about the workshop and applied. I didn’t think I was good enough to be selected for attending the workshop, but I was selected. I’m not sure whether they selected me because I was good or because not many people applied. I don’t think I’ll know, but I plan to write to the organiser and ask. It may sound weird to him but I’d like to know. Am I good or what? Writers are like that.

Anyway, I did attend. I was the only guy there. All the other people who’d been selected were girls. It should’ve bothered me, but it didn’t. I’m totally used to being an outcast. It’s either being an outcast or standing out, and how I view myself in such situations depends on my mood.

Kavery turned out to be a very nice lady. She was very frank and easy to talk to. What I really liked about her was that she was similar to me. Unlike all other people attending that workshop, I was the only one who hadn’t studied writing or literature. It turned out that Kavery hadn’t either. She’s a surgeon by profession.

We got talking. It was surprising how she was so unrestricted and different from what other authors are like. She wasn’t concerned with writing for others, rather being honest with yourself. She said it is okay if you want to use foul-language. Your character may be a potty-mouth, but he would still talk properly when talking to his parents. Makes sense, another thing learned, another perspective. I asked about separating my writing from my depression, how I can’t bear or like my own writing if it is written too positively. She told me I didn’t have to try for any of those things. I should just write what I want and how I want, be honest and comfortable with myself. I expected arguments, restrictions, limits, guidelines, but I liked what I learned from her instead. It conformed to my views on writing. Writing is liberating. Period. There was a lot more, but I can’t remember.

And that’s all for now.

Day 30 – An Eternal Moment of Nothingness

This challenge is nearing its end. Or, is it? Took me over 3 months to reach day 30. C’est la vie!

I must say, I never thought it would take this long. But, then, I didn’t expect a lot of things. Life is whimsical in its ways, I know, but I can’t accept it. I’m far too stubborn to accept things as they are. I keep hearing how we have to live in a certain way, laws of the world, rules for the living, yada yada.

I know I sound like an absolute retard, but I refuse to conform. Why should I? I don’t want to, so I won’t.

My plate, nowadays, is full. There is so much I need to think of and about. The future: near, far, etc. I’ve been walking the road too long, and all I need is an eternal moment of nothingness. An infinite moment stretching into infinity; a moment where the world stops. A moment where my world stops. A moment where I cease to exist. I know I need to deal with life and face reality, and I know I have avoided it for weeks now, but I can’t. It’s like going to sleep, knowing you have got 10 hours to sleep. The moment you fall asleep, you wake up. The time is gone, your 10 hours are up. Damn it! Why can’t there be a state of waking sleep? A state where you sleep, yet are aware of the time as it goes by. My moment ends too soon, just like that. I close my eyes to relax for an instant and the moment’s gone. Too soon, I say. It always feels like nothing more than a second. Why? I want more. My mind, now exhausted, needs a break.

But I am alive, and so I have to live. I’m expected to live. I can’t stop doing it all and slide under the sheets in a dark room forever. That’s not allowed. Much is expected of me, I know. Rightfully so, but still. What am I to do? Indirectly being told that I have to live, not by any person but by their existence. They exist. I exist, but only just.

This brings me to the real thing. I can’t have it my way. If I have it my way, I’m not quite right in the head, which is true, because I’m not. Depression eats me from the insides. I’ve stopped taking Zoloft now. The side-effects became too hard to bear, my resolve to get better broke, and I had a relapse. Not an ordinary relapse, mind you. I thought this was another side-effect, the slight depression and anxiety. It went on for 3-4 days. Then, one night, it suddenly hit me full force. All I wanted was to end my life right there and then. I would have, if I were home, but I weren’t. Couldn’t do it. I spent the night miserable, tossing and turning all night, dreaming and wishing for the same thing; aching and yearning to become one with nothing, and cease to exist. Slit the wrist with a blade and watch the royal red blood gush out, go down the drain. A hug from the rope around the neck and imagine the colour draining from the face. Turn on the gas and go to sleep, never to wake up.

This depression is not going away. It was diagnosed too late, and I’m far too messed up to be ‘fixed.’ Why get fixed? To want to get fixed would be to hope in vain, and I don’t hope at all. I’ve realised the depression won’t go away. I had a talk with him. He finally conceded, it won’t go away. He said, ‘but we can control it with meds.’ The meds have side-effects, all of them. I can’t accept or live with myself. I can’t accept myself living a crippled life. I can’t live a life where I have to take meds and become a zombie for as long as I live. No, I won’t accept.

How am I to survive this world then? How am I to live? I’ve been told that I need to accept that some things are just beyond our control, like how long a loved one lives. I know. I understand. But it’s just not good enough. Not for me, that’s not how I’m wired.

If you have depression then I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. You know it, I know. I won’t say it. But I’ll say this: The next post will be important. It will be important because it will not only be the end of this challenge, but also the end of…you know what.

It will either be published posthumously, or it will show that I’ve decided to try again because, perhaps, I’m either a coward or became an optimist. I don’t look at it that way though, those terms are too worldly. I look at either decision as bravery. Shake your head, disagree all you want, but, again, if you have depression, you know how fucking difficult it is. And who wants a life like that? Not me!

I hope making this post is not a mistake. I hope it won’t come back to bite me in the ass.

Keep your fingers crossed, as I contemplate while trying not to contemplate. On the spur of the moment, a decision could be made.

Day 29 – Tomorrow, Today, and Now of Zombies

Zombie = When you’re on meds for depression, your energy drops to 5%, and you start alternating between power-saver mode and hibernation.

Dear Reader,

I’m annoyed, angry, and frustrated! To a person watching me, I’m probably as tranquil and calm as the reflection of the moon on a river. Why? Because if I’m not in bed, hibernating, I run on power-saver mode, which means I can’t expend enough energy on flailing my arms wildly or screaming or punching someone in the face. I just can’t, even though I want to, because doing so will leave me exhausted. The funny thing is that I finished reading the Diary of a Wimpy Kid, and it feels like I’ve been whining just as much as that petulant rascal.

Back to the topic now! So, I have known the difference between today and tomorrow. We all get told that stuff early on, right? Tomorrow never comes, act today, yada yada yada! For an entire month, after becoming a zombie, I kept telling myself that I’ll work from tomorrow. In the beginning, everything was perfectly timed, and if I followed my schedule I’d have had ample time to get everything done. But, damn it, I kept telling myself I’d do it tomorrow. The workload kept piling up, doubled, tripled, quadrupled, way past the deadlines (I’d never missed a deadline before), till I realised I couldn’t do it and cancelled all the projects. Even after that, and after a long rest, I wanted to get back to work, but when was I going to start?

Tomorrow, I told myself. The tomorrow never came for a month, and I realised I had to start working today! So I started telling myself I’d work today, but to work we need energy, and when we don’t have energy we rest. So, I decided to rest for a bit after breakfast till it was time for lunch. Then I needed to rest after lunch because having lunch made me tired, or, perhaps, the tiredness never really went away. I’d wake up around 7 or 8 in the evening, have dinner, procrastinate, till I went to sleep. This went on for about a week or 10 days, till I realised that ‘today’ wasn’t working either.

So, I decided if I wanted to get back on my horse and start working again, I had to start working right now. After like 3-4 days of this ‘now’, I finally made a post on this blog, but didn’t start working. My mind goes blank, refuses to work, because it’s on power-saving mode. The lines between Tomorrow, Today, and Now are all blurred for us zombies. Anything and everything we do is a feat per se! That includes taking a shower.

I get mad at myself too. I do want to start working again. But it’s just not that easy. Some of the side-effects of the anti-depressants go away in a few weeks, and some stay and are not necessarily pleasant. As for me, I have a constant pain in my joints. It’s bearable but it varies in intensity all day long, and it makes me not want to move, and when I do something as simple as go take a walk, it gets worse.

I know I try. I know I’m trying. I also know I’m failing at it, continuously and repeatedly. I don’t even have the strength to get angry. What I don’t need is reminders from others, because I continuously remind myself.

I’ve written this post, not because someone reminded me that I need to work or am not working, but because I’m the one constantly reminding myself that I’m not working, in spite of trying.

Day 28 – Depression: The Choice We Have to Make

Dear Reader,

There comes a time in the lives of people suffering from depression when they must make a choice. For the ones who are not getting any treatment, it is the point when depression gets so overwhelming that they want nothing more than to be rid of it. They want to get better, even if depression has become a huge part of who they are. It is then that they decide to go on meds so that they can get better. I know because I’ve made that choice many times.

In the beginning, it is all good. You’re all upbeat, ready to fight and get better. The side-effects are strong in the beginning but you put up with them. You know they will go away in a few weeks, and you notice how their intensity decreases everyday. You begin to feel better, hallelujah! But after a month or so, you notice other side-effects of the meds. For some people these happen to be things they can put up with. For others, like me, they are things we can’t put up with. Then these new side-effects begin to get stronger day by day, as is the case with me now. And then we reach a point where we can’t put up with them at all. These side-effects continuously pester us, cause us pain, and we wonder, wasn’t there a similar reason for why we started these meds? We started the meds to get better, to get rid of the constant depression, to feel more like ourselves, and we wonder if this is any better than it was before we started on these meds. Because while the depression is gone, we still don’t feel like ourselves, our personality is suppressed, emotions gone, constant side-effects, and a similar misery. Why are we taking these meds then, and why should we stay on them? Why am I taking these meds?

And that’s the other time when we have to make a choice. To stay on the meds or to quit! Because we get exhausted. As for myself, I’m annoyed, angry, frustrated, and really want to PUNCH SOMEONE IN THEIR FUCKING FACE!!! I must make a choice! I’d very much like to quit these fucking meds and go back to depression. It’s either the physical pain or the mental one. I guess our only option is to keep switching between them, so one when gets too much we go for the other.

But why do we have to make this choice? I know that the world is not perfect, but I don’t want to have to make these choices over and over again. I want to get better but I can’t put up with this.

My energy has dropped to like 5%, which is pretty much the same as it was when I was depressed. Or, maybe, it is worse now. I was more active when depressed, in spite of wanting to stay curled up in bed all the time. Now I try to work, want to work or do something, but I simply do not have the energy.

We get told to ‘try’ or ‘push ourselves’ or ‘motivate ourselves.’ Please tell me where the fucking motivation shop is so I can buy some! Because heavens know I’ve been trying. I’ve been trying for over a month now and I don’t have the energy. No wonder we develop mood swings and get frustrated and angry. What a fucking dilemma! Don’t take meds, suffer! Take meds, suffer! If I have to fucking suffer either way, what do I do?

Day 27 – SONY (Same Old New Year) & The Depression Dilemma

Dear Reader,

This is my first post for 2015, the new year. I would’ve liked to start writing from the start and follow till the end of the year, but that’s not how life works. There have been times when my creativity was high and I had an urge to write, the ideas flowing freely, waiting to be written, recorded, saved from being wasted and forgotten. They have been forgotten. The urge to write was not strong enough to overcome the tiredness and laziness.

It’s been a little over a month since I started Zoloft. Previously it was the depression that kept me from writing, and then it was the Zoloft. It’s funny how the ailment and cure have had the same effect on me. For about a month I kept telling myself that I’ll write tomorrow, till I realised that tomorrow wasn’t gonna come, so I started telling myself I’ll write today. I told myself that first thing in the morning. I’ll write soon, I just need some rest first. I need rest after waking up, I need rest after breakfast, I need a rest after resting, and the list goes on. I used to be active, so I know it is Zoloft. Hopefully things will change from today, because I know that the tiredness is not going to go away. My joints ache almost constantly (another side effect of Zoloft), and I haven’t used my laptop in months. I used to use my laptop everyday for hours on end, and now the mere thought of using it vexes me. But, of course, I’m broke now from not having worked, and while I can still go on and continue to use from my savings, I need a change. I need to feel powerful and in control again.

The depression is gone but the suicidal thoughts persist. I’ve been told that I need to be on Zoloft for 9 months, and it already feels like I’ve been on it for at least 3 months, but today I checked the date and realised that it’s only been 5-6 weeks. I’m ready to give up. I need to feel like myself again. I’m terribly calm now and I have no feelings or emotions left to suppress. I don’t mind that either, but I need to feel like myself again.

Crazy as it may sound, I want my depression back. I’ve spent more than half my life with depression, and it is an essential part of me. I don’t like the new, calm, me. I feel blank, like a whiteboard. I remember having a fire in me, and now that fire has turned to ashes. I miss the spark in me, the rush of thoughts that drove me insane, the me in myself. Previously I complained about not looking like myself (depersonalisation/derealisation), but now I don’t feel like myself. I’d go back to not looking like myself because I don’t have to look at myself all day, but I do need to feel like myself in my own skin.

This is, indeed, a dilemma. It is all far too complicated for me to explain, or understand myself. I want to get better but I want to remain me at the same time. Is that too much to ask for?

Day 19 – Flu Sucks!

The last couple of days were pretty busy and hectic for me. I didn’t get any time for myself. There was no time to sit back, relax, or think, and there was no depression either. It all ended today though. I am not a positive person and I don’t try to be one either. What I do is that I constantly remind myself that I’m a negative thinker and a pessimist, and that I perceive things much worse than they really are. It is what allows me to laugh or shrug off things that would otherwise annoy me and cause distress.

Today, I sat sulking and hating everyone around me. I didn’t know why but everything and everyone was annoying me. I know I have mood swings but I’m tired of explaining them to others. Every little thing annoyed me today, every little word that anyone spoke annoyed me. I felt worthless and scorned and it was annoying. I thought about dying, about how stupid and unworthy my life is, yada yada. But then I stopped mulling over all this stuff and started wondering why I’m getting annoyed at everything all of a sudden. The answer came to me quickly: it’s depression, of course.

It’s been almost a week since I’ve had the flu. The first med I tried for flu was tiring but had no results, so I started taking anti-biotics. It’s working but it’s also annoying. I’m not sure whether to blame depression, flu, or the anti-biotics. All of them, perhaps. I’m tired all the time, my throat is sore, and I can’t stop coughing. *cough* It absolutely sucks! I can’t eat because I’m not getting hungry but I need to eat or the anti-biotics churn my stomach and make me nauseous. I was going to start taking Zoloft. After spending a lot of time thinking and considering whether or not to take it, I ruled in the favour of it. I’d like to have energy and stop being so tired all the time. But flu came along before I could start, and I’m thinking of taking a break from meds before flu is gone. I feel like my entire system is messed up from the inside, so I definitely need a break. And I get an itchy rash daily, side-effect of the anti-biotics; even more annoying.

In the last week, since the flu, it has been becoming harder and harder for me to write these posts. Before I start writing, I spend a few minutes thinking about skipping them. After all, missing one day won’t really hurt, but that’s not how I do things. I’m not sure whether to compliment myself on forcing 500 words out or not, because while it might look like I’m someone who gets things done, does what he sets out to do, etc., that’s not really the case. I do it because that’s what the rules said, and I ignore the rule which says we don’t have to write daily or it is okay to miss a day or something like that. And now my stomach is churning again, so I’m off.

Night!

Day 5 – Zoloft!

I gave much thought to what I should write about today. I wanted to write something deep and profound, but I’m pretty blank right now. So, here’s what happened:

I slept early in the morning, around 7. I don’t remember when I woke up, but it was sometime in the afternoon. As usual, I woke up tired and achy. The first thing I go for after waking up is a cigarette, but I ran out of them last night, so I spent an extra hour in bed. Mourning. (Not really, I was just tired.) Then I mustered up some strength, pushed my self (groaning) out of the bed, and had breakfast. Weetabix! It’s hard for me to make small decisions, so I spent some time thinking whether I should have a glass of warm milk or Weetabix. Settled on Weetabix, obviously. Then I had to decide whether I wanted one biscuit or two. Two. Then I had to choose between nuts, fruits, and honey. That’s a lie. There were no nuts, I forgot about the fruits, so I just had to decide whether or not to add honey. I do love Weetabix without honey, but all the calories and energy and stuff you get with honey won in the end. I had good breakfast! Then I called my best friend because I’d missed her calls earlier.

We talked about our lives and stuff, and she told me that I should start some treatment for my depression. I’ve been told that before by other people, but when she says something, it matters. She knows me really well and understands. Anyway, I decided to give it a go. Sometimes all you need is a little push. This was my push, and only she could push me. So, I called up my psychiatrist, and he told me I should start Zoloft. He told me the same thing in August but I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready three days ago when he told me the same thing. I’m not ready now either. I don’t know what it is that is stopping me, but it just doesn’t feel right. I pushed through and made progress though. I bought the meds. I don’t know when I’ll start taking them. I try but I can’t bring myself to it. I don’t have any explanation for it. I thought about it and found a reason, to satisfy myself at least. Insomnia is one of the side-effects listed and I don’t want that. It’s super-difficult to fall asleep, it is impossible to not wake up twice an hour, and I don’t want anything making it worse. I just can’t take the risk.

But I also know that I have to. I know that I need to. Because I deserve a normal life. I’m not a hero or a warrior. I’m a stubborn, insubordinate, asshole! And I’ll be damned if I let depression win. Now I’m just gonna prepare myself mentally and physically for this and then kick depression’s ass! I know, I know, what’s with the mental and physical preparation; it’s depression, not cancer. It’s a med, not chemotherapy. But when your will is lost and you don’t have the energy, which happens during depression, then you need to prepare. I’ve constantly battled depression during the last 9 years and now I’m exhausted. All I need is a minute to catch my breath…