A vengeful and ferocious depression had swallowed me whole. For months, I occupied it's murky and desolate innards, barely remembering a life in the light. And then one day, I determinedly clawed my way back up, pried open it's fanged jowl and catapulted myself out.
A potent cocktail of intensive therapy, painstakingly titrated medication and radical self-care, had conspired to mend my head and my heart.
What's most frightening about descending into a chronic depression, is how rapidly you forget the sensation of well-being. But more petrifying, by far, is coming up for air, knowing how incredibly fragile and ephemeral that recovery can be.
I continue to live with a tempestuous toddler. He regales and torments me. He charms and challenges me. He forces me out - of home, of comfort zones, of myself. But what was once unrelenting overwhelm, is now organized chaos.
With eyes shut, I occasionally attempt to recall those days of untold despair. I cannot, truly, and am incredibly grateful for that fact. Yet, I'm fully-aware that there's always darkness lurking, just around the corner, taunting and tempting me into re-entering it's bleak, but familiar confines. But I've found my way out once, and I will, again. And again.
Here's to finding your way out again and again Deepa. Thank you for sharing this. You write about what is clearly such a painful journey with such absolute beauty, it is breathtaking.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for sharing this, Deepa. I feel privileged to know you. You are a strong woman, and from what I can see, an amazing mother.
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