I visited a therapist 3 months back,
with anxiety making churns in my stomach,
with ever moving fingers,
I knew,
I just knew.
She thought I’d come over,
to talk about a client of ours.
Thankfully, I didn’t feel weird to say,
It’s me.
It is about me.
She is a kind woman who didn’t take much time to say it upfront,
The depression I’d in 2015,
It’s still there.
Well, I, being a Psychology enthusiast,
knew,
knew about the pain turned into anger
impacting inter-subjectivity of my life.
What amazed me was,
how I felt.
What amazed me was,
the number of people who feel similar.
What amazed me was,
I know it’s real, all of it,
what are we doing about it?
That amazes me.
She used the words and tied them into the labels of,
depression,
bipolar,
suicidal ideation,
agitated depression,
Which I could just understand it in,
One line,
For myself,
Depression is like cancer.
3 years,
It should’ve gone away,
with all the self-love I ‘tried’,
nurturing,
nourishing,
in me.
but,
it came back.
Or, just maybe,
it was there all along?
With all the courage I’d in me,
With everything she told me to do, eat, act upon, escape from (list goes on),
I planned on doing a single thing at a time.
Right now, that one thing is,
Getting up from the bed.
The first and one essential step I’m doing rigorously. Everyday.
Getting up and going out.
Maybe, the pain won’t go away,
And, I can never put a socially casted word,
‘time’ to it.
But, I can be,
gentle,
in taking baby steps,
everyday.
