Depression Is Not To Hide From

Posted by supriya c.
April 8, 2017

Self-Published

This story is in response to Youth Ki Awaaz’s topic for this week – #LetsTalk to start a conversation on the stigma around depression. If you have an opinion or personal story of dealing with or helping someone else deal with depression or suicidal thoughts, write to us here.

This is truly depressing that my thoughts cannot be accomplished by anyone. They have always been off the racetrack from the world may be. Only they are ethically absolutely right according to me.

I mean whenever I tested to make understand my way of thinking, why not that rigid person tries to understand it?  I have incessantly tried to be non-violent though people are aggressive and violent on their own.

Am I having problems with every beast or what? I am still searching if I am in depression. I experience being a woman is more harassing than getting a raped or acid attack or physical abuse or gender inequality because the problem occurs in their sight. His eyes are teasing my existence. Getting me to carve.

That 50-year-old person who was working in High court, his remark on my picture ‘ boobs are nice’ rattling my trust.

That 42-year-old, weak and unhealthy person – who asked me – ‘ will you have phone sex with me?’ On Facebook and still  I didn’t unfriend or block him  because I wanted to know what else he can bring me further. I was unaware that Instead of Getting subaltern into this virtual world this world will teach me a pile.. That man who was preparing for UPSC like I, asked me – ‘ what dosages of food you consume that you gained this body?’

‘How I am Liberal and moderate and  so  how you should be bold in your lifetime’, -that one more person took my advantage. Yess the Advantage!  I let him because I loved him and that’s so because I respected him.. he didn’t.  That’s one more person kept the friendship with me because he could nailed out money from me because my father is a rich person he considered.

Bearing all these I am fed up understanding and handling each and every situation, I feel to drop myself from at least 30th floor to rescue my thoughts and thought process. I feel there is no one to understand me. No one to rescue me from the whirlpool of confusions and vulgarity. When once in a night I was drinking a bottle of whiskey on my terrace watching stars and moon and planes and smoking, I used to think at least they will understand my feelings of being girl /woman/a lady. Then I used to get ‘NO’ from them also. I used to screw up that smoke in the air to complete my depression.

When I went to psychologist, he prescribed me the sleeping pills without counselling,  I was hollering in front of him because of my anger and unusual behaviour. The other Dr suggested me to get married to resolve my all of the problems. I believed, why being a woman can make me feel depressed? Why can’t I stay strong? A woman should face that everything which since long times,  all of the women facing off and they showed themselves strong. Though they were broken inside, but their body expressions and acting were solid- like me. I am of course strong enough to manage the situation comes in between my way of journey but that’s show off. I am depressed inside of my intellect and heart. Everybody thinks I am so bold and courageous that I can face anything.

I still remember, how in Ganapati miravanuk a man who was pushing and rubbing my back in so much crowd when I went to see ‘miravnuk’ with my friends, squeezed my right boob and dispersed in crowd. I was shouting at him. I also remember – how in a Delhi Palika market,  assuming that I am an outsider, how he rubbed my hips to set out my trial jeans fitted.

Everybody consoled me after these types of incidents. I told them – I am ok. I was partially ok. It drew me into deep depression. Though I worked as RTI Activist, working for raped, acid attacks victims in governments different schemes, I feel insecure though. I get frightened off or start recalling that what I will do if these men start harassing me. I keep my paper spray and security knife in my bag because  I am always horrified  with the society and its off sudden circumstances within the freedom. Imprisoned and burdened with its rules, laws and social clubs, communities, respects and disrespects, fatwas and boycotts. Sticking with my ethics they tied and taught me with their so called respectable ‘ ethical behavior’ to not to utter a single word.

So for two years, I wake up as my cook comes in the sunrise. I take tea and do nothing, sit or lay in the bed and do nothing. When I starve myself, eat more or less food. Then the cycle just continues. I slumber in the night as if I am doing lots of work, in front of that everyone and as if I am sleeping because I am happy with my life lessons. The next day arises with a novel phase  of depression. Not less but increased by.

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