understanding my sadness.

reading “The Myth of Normal”, I came by a page which described depression as a suppression of emotion, the distancing of one from their feelings which would cause a calamity in certain situations. somehow, it rang a bell. it made more sense to see it that way.

if you go through my old blog posts, you will definitely come across posts in which I’m apathetic, distant from life, untouchable, and far from being loved. starved— essentially. there would be other posts, in the same months, in which I am extremely grateful, upbeat, dreamy and alive.

remembering the past decade, I can tell that more often than not, I did not want to keep going. I wanted to lock myself in the room and die slowly. cut myself from all worldly ties, all attachments and fade into oblivion. however, I couldn’t. I had to survive somehow. I had to shove away those dark and twisty feelings and create fresh ones, even if they were mostly delusional and based on fantasies and dreams.

the moment I felt safe in 2024, all the darkness came gnawing at my insides in such a gruelling, aggressive manner. all the years I should have been exhausted, ill and unmotivated came by, as if to show me what it really was. a depression. the active will to build a mountain out of an ocean all by myself. but the ocean bed was too deep, too fragile, too scary.

I’m starting to feel again. it comes and goes now. some weeks, I feel worthless and helpless again, seeing life with old eyes. other days, I see what’s before me— a magnitude of blessings to enrich my soul with. of course, it’s exhausting to go through that cycle all the time, but it’s a pain-body that needs to be recognised. it needs to be seen and embraced.

my husband has noticed this recently. he noticed that when darkness looms in my heart, I escape to my shell. I refuse to be vulnerable and build those heavy, impenetrable walls that shelter me from even the most beautiful, warming waves of love. it takes a great deal of courage to be vulnerable and cry it all out. every time, this vulnerability opens a window. it makes me move forward, it changes me, it brightens my soul. 

one of the most notable experiences I didn’t allow myself to feel deeply is perhaps abandonment. it’s resurfacing now everytime I find myself alone. everytime my husband has something to do and I’m alone at home, my heart sinks to my chest and it hurts. it hurts terribly. today, I decided to sit with it before I talk about it in therapy— I saw little me, in a dark corner all alone, crying, feeling helpless and worthless. she was abandoned by her mother physically and her father emotionally. she was hurt by being left behind. hurt beyond relief. being alone never used to hurt me before, but it does now. I feel it this instant, as I’m writing this post. my heart is twisting and gnawing at me, screaming for love and affection. all I want is to cry it out and act all messed up, but I want to be there for myself too. I have to be both the child and the parent now, and I still don’t know how.

I know I’ll get through this. I know I’ll learn to feel through the wounds I’ve let heal terribly. until then, that’s my depression. it’s all the moments I didn’t have the capacity to feel in order to survive. it’s all thrown at me now.

nobody understands the strength one needs to be patient through this. you might see weakness on the outside. I’m vulnerable, wounded and inflamed. every touch hurts. just one trigger and protective walls rise up to disarm any harm. it hurts to be like this when there are so many blessings, so much change to embrace. it takes so much courage to be patient and persevere through the enormity of the choices one has made for the sake of love.

for all I know, my wounded self wants to run away right now. she wants to leave all this love behind and live a secluded, lonely life. the wisdom in me tells me it’s worth it to wait. every breakthrough moves mountains of fears. 

I must take my time.