The Thud

The pain wasn’t searing. It was a dull thud. Like the sound made by a sack of grain when you drop it to the floor. Thud. The feeling within, too, was dull. She felt distant from herself, as though submerged in water or trapped in a dream, her awareness hazy. She dealt with the pain as if it belonged to someone else.

The breakup happened out of the blue, just when she was expecting their relationship to turn into something larger, more meaningful. The blow felt like one from a hammer. Thud. Strong, yet heavy and dull. She struggled to process the what, why, and how of it, but her brain felt slow and heavy, like the very hammer that had hit her.

There were no major fights, no unbridgeable differences. Yet he had dumped her and walked away, like dropping a weight by accident at the gym. Thud. He had told her his reason, but to her, it felt silly and stupid. She couldn’t even get her emotions out in the form of tears. Everything felt frozen inside.

She applied for leave and headed to her hometown, assuming a few days with her loving—but clueless about her love life—parents would help her process her plight. It was festival time, but she couldn’t participate in any of the fervor. She heard the same real-life thud as her mom and dad pounded away the rice to prepare kajjaya, the traditional sweet. Her heart thudded too. Her perceptive mom asked if everything was alright, and she carefully avoided talking about him. Why bother them and make them worry more?

He wasn’t a bad guy, far from it. He had stood by her during their six years together. In his company, she had grown, shedding her morose, sad veneer. She had learned to embrace happiness and stay happy, letting go of the fear that sadness was lurking, waiting to pounce. He had taught her how not to nurse grudges, how to handle fights, and, importantly, how to start every day afresh. Yet today, it felt as if all those lessons were merely preparation for this eventuality, thudding down to terra firma.

Who was to blame? Did he cause it? Was she responsible? Did she ignore any signs? The more she thought about it, the more her heart thudded. She knew she was slipping into depression, and she didn’t know a way out. When friends asked, she struggled to respond; she couldn’t blame him. He and she still exchanged messages and tended to the pets they both had raised—she brought them to her place whenever he traveled instead of letting them stay at a pet minder. She wondered if she wasn’t willing to let go, secretly expecting him to reconcile. Her struggles were accentuated further by the fact that she was a therapist herself!

Months passed. She still stayed stuck. He didn’t tell her he had begun dating someone else, nor did he let her in on his plans to move out of the country and marry the person he was newly invested in. But the news still reached her ears. Had he broken up because he found this new person, or was this after they broke up? She concluded she would never know. It shouldn’t matter—it was in the past. But it did, because she still lived in the past in her head, moping daily about her memories, and struggling to see life beyond the breakup.

Her older, perceptive brother reached out and gently asked her to talk to him. “I’ve noticed how you’re struggling to look normal. I know it’s a façade. Do not hide. You know you can share with me.” With great reluctance, and also to unburden herself, she told him bits and pieces. “My little one, you’re struggling to seek help. Let go of your embarrassment about approaching another. You cannot be your own therapist.” He had struck at the root of the matter. She agreed to see one.

One session led to some more. She liked the conversations with the therapist and finally realized what she had failed to do.

She contacted her ex and said she wanted to talk. She finally told him, her heart thudding away, what she felt about the breakup and the impact it had had on her, calling him out for being an asshole who had made her feel the fault was hers while he might have been planning his exit all along. She knew now the real problem wasn't the weight he dropped, but the heavy weight of silence she had been carrying alone. 

A year passed. It was the same festival time, and she was back at home. She woke up to her mother pounding the rice to make the same traditional sweet. She joined her with a smile, and said, “Let me do it this time.” She brought the pestle down. It was a solid thud, but this time, it was the sound of being alive, not defeat. Her brother, who was helping their mother in the task, smiled. She smiled back, and thought, “Thank you for saving me from myself”. 

Life. Lessons.

Phone rings as I am considering leaving the office to the hospital. Close friend on the line. It is about the hush-hush plans we are having about a holiday. “I’ve booked the tickets”, he announces. “Now, tell me where are we supposed to book our hotels in”. 

I answer that question and add, “But, there’s a hitch”. 

“What now? Don’t tell me you’re changing dates and plans!” I could hear the annoyance in his voice. 

“No, it’s just that dad is unwell.”

“Why? What happened?”

I hesitate for a moment and then respond.

“He suffered a mild stroke the day before. So, I am a little unsure about my dates of travel”.

“Oh! So sorry to hear. Let’s cancel the plans then. We may do this another time”.

“Nope. My original plan was to reach much earlier than you guys. Now, I’ll reach almost at the same time as you all. This has been in the making for quite a while”. 

“How’s the prognosis?”

I explain it once again - have lost count how many times I’ve already done. That his left limb isn’t yet responding well, and intense physiotherapy is the solution since the tissue in the cortex is gone because of a block. 

“How is he taking all this?”

“Oh he’s cheerful as ever. Tells he’s lived well and on his own terms, and all that. He’s giving life lessons to everyone who’s visiting, and to the doctors and staff at the hospital!” 

We both laugh at this and the friend says, without missing a beat. 

“Now this brings amazing clarity”.

“What is it?”, I am curious.

“The ability and skill to preach and lecture have come to you as a hereditary gift”, and laughs hard. 

I seethe and smile at the same time!

Sand Between My Fingers....

Out of the blue the message that appeared on the screen shocked me more than many others that I had seen in the recent times.  'Sushant Singh Rajput found dead; suicide suspected'.  Here was a star who seemed to have everything going for him - outwardly.  And, yet he had killed himself.  Rumours abounded regarding his battle with depression in the recent days and his missed opportunities thanks to nepotism in the Hindi film industry.  Someone even tweeted he had lost out on 7 movies in six months after his last success, Chhichore.  And, the irony of it all: his last movie dealt about how suicide is not the solution.

Depression and suicides are not new terms.  All of us would have come across them.  My friend from primary school hanged himself after having failed in his second year of Engineering; he feared his father immensely.  A friend of mine from the Civil Services could not face all that pressure at his job just after two years of service and ran away; he came to live with me for a few months.  When he arrived I didn't even know his condition. It dawned upon after seeing him not  leaving his bed or room each day, not bathing, not eating, and not sleeping.  There are many other such stories.  Keeping them to myself.

This write-up of mine is not about Sushant or my friends and acquaintances.  It is about me.  And, this possibly is the most personal piece I have written here.  Baring a part of my inside which I have carefully kept under the wraps for almost all my life.  I guess it is time to let it all out in the open, and not carry anymore as a secret that I must protect with my life.  I am talking about my own battles with depression. 

My first brush with being down mentally was way back in 2009-10.  Till then I didn't know what it was to be completely down and out.  A mix of personal and professional troubles had resulted in me becoming aloof, withdrawn, and generally disinterested in things around.  I had no idea that these were symptoms of mild depression.  Soon, I was awoken to what I was going through by a colleague of mine.  "The Sudhir I know is a fighter; I can't believe I'm seeing the same person right now".  It was a wake up call.  Thankfully, this bout did not last long. 

Fast forward to 2018.  My then partner of nearly six years chose to end our relationship. Over a long-distance call.  "I can't be in a relationship where we aren't living together", were those parting words - we were living apart for over a year because of my own transfers (thanks to the government job I hold).  My efforts to move to Bengaluru where we could live together hadn't worked.  As though miracle (or a cruel quirk of fate).  I accepted the breakup overtly.  But, it had hit me more deeply than I had known.  I found it difficult to leave my bed, eat, concentrate at work.  It was a chore to speak to parents and family.  I found it difficult to keep my eyes open - even when fully awake.  Conversing was excruciating.  My mouth would dry up, I'd sweat, clench my fists, and jaw.  And hope it would all end.

Having been an introvert all my life it was not going to be easy to open up and tell anyone that I was going through a breakup and that I was hurting immensely.  Also, having mastered the art of hiding it was easy for me not to show it on my face, when I did manage to go to work, or met with the rare friend.  The intensity of this depression lasted for almost two years.  There were constant thoughts of self-harm.  Of ending all things quietly.  I could feel my own life slipping away from my grip like sand between my fingers.  I would wonder what would happen if I'd just let myself....

.. 2020 June.

I am still alive. 

I have not permanently harmed myself in any which way. I have not vanquished my depression forever.  But I have learnt to combat it, win the major battles, and have successfully stepped out of the previous big episode. 

Back in the early 2000s when my friend had holed up at my place did I learn what happens with depression first hand - by observation.  After having dragged him to the doctors, and monitored his counseling sessions and medicines, for months I had realised how debilitating depression could be.  But, when it came to my own life and its vice-like grip, all those lessons had gone away from the mind for months.  In a moment of saneness when my desire to live overpowered self-harm, I connected with my sister and blurted out that I was depressed.  And, then started my baby steps to open myself up to other people.  Seek help both from friends and professionals.  For the first time ever I opened up to my parents too and told them I was down, and I needed help.  I also promised that I'd come to them whenever I needed them around me. 

The single biggest fact that made me not take my own life was that my parents were still alive and I didn't want to leave them devastated.  It was not easy nor pretty the process of getting back into a clear head that didn't always tell me that I wasn't good enough to live.  I didn't always listen to the advice from professionals or well-wishers, but yet plodded on.  I have made it here and lived to tell the tale.

Some of the things I did to overcome this debilitating issue include regular exercise (my runs, walks, and gym), a newfound willingness to open up and talk about myself (wasn't always successful; my introversion is strong), my sister and parents, support from certain friends, and me creating a list of things I would want to do before I'd say bye.  The list inspired me.

The reason to write about my own experience was to set the context for what comes next.  An appeal to people who might read this.  An appeal to help those that show signs of depression. 

Depression apart from happening because of sudden life events, it may also be caused because of a host of reasons inherent in our society's ways. Having lived a life of discrimination based on caste and creed, biases and prejudices that come with social divide, class divide - poverty and penury, sexual orientation,  and physical traits (issues of weight, complexion, and being differently baked) can cause depression. 

Most people who are depressed may not realise they are depressed; even if they do they may not share it.  However, people in their lives can see those telltale signs of something being amiss.  So, if you see the signs, please offer help.  If they deny everything and resist your help, do not give up.  One of the biggest signs of depression is to go off communication.  By this I do not mean, every kind of communication.  It means the person generally loses interest in meeting people and socialise.  S/he might message you, post new pictures on facebook and instagram; even like your posts and send you smileys, but s/he would desist to come on a call.  Avoid meeting.  And, when meeting is unavoidable, may keep it brief or even avoid eye-contact.  These symptoms may be absent at workplace - but look for sudden absences.  Or excuses for delays, sudden sloppy work.  Look also for changed eating habits and patterns.  Avoiding food or overeating.  Substance abuse - alcohol mostly, but it can be anything else too. 

The reason most friends and families express surprise when someone tries to end their own life is not because it was not known that the person was down; but all of us keep telling ourselves that it might not be that serious.  Also, most of us would not want to deal with it.

If you are serious about helping someone in depression, do not just post messages to contact you.  A person depressed might not even see them; if even they did they may not contact you.  Instead, if you believe something is amiss with someone mentally, offer help.  Talk to them.  Tell them you are there.  Tell them you are willing to listen.  Give them your time.  And, not your advice that 'everything will be fine', 'don't worry', or 'its fine'.  and so on. 

Depression affects a large chunk of population in the world at one or more points in life.  Hence, it possibly is the biggest disease that afflicts humanity.  Let us commit to fight it together.

P. S. This post is not to show my ex in any bad light. I have moved on. And recognise that my reaction to breakup was my own. And not caused by ex. I’ve made peace. And I have a new equation as a friend with my ex now. Without malice. Without baggage and ill will. 

Anecdote

I was at my friend's office in CV Raman Nagar. It was lunch time and we walked to Bagmane Park to grab a quick bite. "What do you wanna eat?" I asked Sirish. As his wont he said "Anything Sudhir". I responded as always with an irritated glare at him. Anyways, the place was teeming with people. And, odours from various joints in the food court were appealing and nauseating at the same time. I thumbed down the idea of eating from the Paramount. It was McDonalds at last - Sirish reluctantly agreed to eat a burger, as he hates bread for lunch or dinner. A sardar smiled sweetly - the contrast of his pearly whites against a jet black beard - at me as I tried to push my way through the serpantine queue. "Oh! I didn't notice there was a queue" I said sheepishly and stood behind him. 15 minutes and we were greeted by a still-chirpy girl. "One chicken happy meal, one medium fries, one mcveggie. Give me a coffee in place of coke" I told her. "That'd be Rs.182 Sir". I handed her a Rs.500 note and waited for the change and the food plate. She returned Rs. 218. "Is that 282?" I asked her. "Ah Sir..." and a pause later "It's 182 and I have given you 318 as change". "You've given me only 2 100-rupee notes lady". "Oh". I couldn't read her expression. I asked her again. My food arrived in the meanwhile and the change was still coming even as the girl went on attending to other customers' requests. After three repetitions with a resigned "here you're Sir" she gave me my correct change.

I gave her a benefit-of-doubt that it was NOT deliberate and it's possible that she thought that it was I who was trying to trick her! I normally would've given a mouthful and screamed at the counter-staff in such situations. It was a different experience today. Surely something that did NOT leave me all worked up! :)

Trivia!

I did two things this year I almost thought I wasn’t capable of.

1. I quit smoking. (It’s a month, a month!!!) - time to change my display/profile picture on the blog!
2. I sport a clean-shaven look (and I’m feeling comfortable about it unlike the earlier times when I’d cringe to see my own face in the mirror)

Life’s good. It could get better too!