Awareness · Fiction · Mothers · Uncategorized

The Burden

She stared down at the little creature in front of her. She dreamed of this for so long, but now it changed everything. The pink, gooey little thing coiled its fingers and stared at her. Her heart bled as she stared back. What should she do with this little clump of life? Her heart hurt, afraid of what impact this creature with have on her life, afraid of what impact she would have in the creatures’ life. For a moment she wanted to run, just run and leave this to be someone else’s problem. But an invisible string jolted her back to reality, and she knew she should stay. So many problems she could run from before, but this was not one of them. Now she had entered a sacred sanctuary, now she was a mother. She did not dare think what would happen if she failed, like so many before her had. She picked up the sticky creature, and it buried its head in her chest, she felt at ease with this, as if it was saying all would be okay, as if it knew.

“Angelina darling,” a soft feminine voice called from the clouds, “You have birthed your soul, nourish it and it will nourish you, you will know what to do.”

Angelina held her soul in her hands, cradled between her bosoms. This is where she shaped a life before sending it to earth. This is where she created good or evil. How would she know what to do? What if the creature sensed the darkness in her, what if the creature wanted to feed off her anxiety? Why did Relphina think she was ready for this task? Does one not have to clean their heart before shaping a soul? At least Angelina had just one soul to nourish, Leilani in pod 14 was nourishing five souls with ease and grace, two of them were almost ready to release to earth. Angelina walked past pod 14 and peeped in the window all the while caressing her creature. Four cribs lay side by side, sticky creatures with big, black globs for eyes stared out. Leilani, bless her gentle heart, sat beside the crib, the most beautiful melody released from her mouth.

“O my creature hear my song, O my creature hear it well. One day Mother Leilani will release you home, and on this time you will dwell. Life will fill you with such measures, but in it you will find your treasures. Hear this song in your soul, hear this song in your heart. For one day we shall soon part, and goodness shall erode your path.”

Leilani was a natural, Angelina did not have this confidence. For a brief minute she wanted to leave her burden at Leilani’s door and run. Again she could not do it. She held her creature to her heart, looked into the globs of it’s eyes and whispered, “I hope I do you well.”

 

 

Awareness · depression · mental illness · Uncategorized

Depression is my normal

Think of a deep, dark whole, you falling into an everlasting sunken space, free-falling, the more you struggle and fight against it the more difficult the journey becomes but if you accept and submerge into this dark space you might eventually reach some ground, some stability. There might be something at the end of the dark space. This is what a depressive spell might feel like to some, an overwhelming feeling of sunken gloom that seems never-ending, but for some it’s a ride we wear off periodically. Let it flow till it is over. Sometimes you just have to let yourself feel and stop resisting that you feel sad, angry, anxious, feel it out, work it out and let the emotions ride through you until it’s done. Cry out a bucket or two, punch a punching bag until it’s tatterted and hanging by a thread, scream out until your lungs are exhausted but just let it all out.

 

Growing up I was thought to hide how I feel, wear a mask, pretend you happy all the time, pretend your life is perfect and let people think that it is. If you need to cry do it alone in a dark space where no one can see. If you angry suppress it until you become a ball of passive aggression and can not live with anyone. This is unhealthy, personally I think emotions need to be acknowledged, we all need to encourage each other to be human, to feel what we feel, to give ourselves a break. When did life become a competition of who’s smile is the widest, whose life seems the happiest, whose emotional stability is the most controllable. Maybe it’s time to redefine the norms of what emotional stability is. Maybe emotional stability should be projected our emotions in a healthy manner instead of stifling ourselves and pretending we are robots. We aren’t robots yet, we all still human.

 

For so many reason I hate the term ‘normal’. I think this term is setting up unrealistic expectations for so many of us. I wish I felt normal, I wish I had a normal life, I wish I was in a normal family. What is normal? If we could all individually create an idea of what normal is personal to our own lives, maybe we would find a happier more content space (Of course this does not apply to being in an abusive situation). Personally for me, living with depression is my normal, feeling things the way I feel it is my normal, not getting as excited about things way in advance is my normal. Once I accepted what normal means to me I am much more content and in tune with my emotions and life. I just enjoy being different and unique and this works for me. What works for you? What makes you feel ‘normal’?

Awareness · Mothers · Uncategorized

Walking with her shoes…

Taking a break away from the topic of depression, this is a tale based on a dear friend.

Have you ever seen a mother so frustrated with her child, a screaming, crying child and a frustrated mother not knowing what to do, she maybe yelling, she maybe dragging the child, and you wonder what the hell is going on. Have you ever thought, that’s not what I would do, that’s not how I’d handle the situation. It’s easy to judge a situation from the outside looking in but maybe let’s take a walk with the situation, with the mother and her shoes, with her situation.

We work together at a preschool, spending majority of our time teaching young, not always eager minds, but not just teaching them, we feed them, we take them to the loo, we change them, we watch over them when they play, we are like day time mothers. It is a tiring job, when I come home, I look forward to some quite time, some bliss, a nice drink and silence. That is a luxury I have, because I am not a mother.

But my colleagues lead a more tiresome life, they are mothers, and after an exhausting day with students they come home and resume they real job, the more important one, being a mom. Work is like a break a way for them.

One day after work I had accompanied my friend home, she wanted me to cook for her, a traditional Indian curry.  I love cooking, I love curry and I love her so I was up for it. We left school together, drained from the day. She didn’t know what to expect from her little one, would he be a ball of sunshine or would he be a little demon, she took a deep breath and entered the school we had to pick him up from. He came down the stairs and gazed at us suspiciously; almost as if to say, what do they want? We had to coax and encourage him a bit before we could get him out of the school; eventually we all left the school. A tired mother and a tired drained little son, have to make a long walk home. We were in for quite a trip. He started walking tepidly at first then faster, then he was running and she was running behind him. Eventually she had to carry him across the road and that’s when it started, the little one was too frustrated and started his little tantrum. He sat on the pavement in tears, and the tired mom had to try everything from walking away hoping he would follow, to eventually having to pick him up. Now she is a petite woman and he is a chubby baby who resisted being picked up. He slapped at her, screamed and squirmed. Eventually we made it down to the subway station. Mother exhausted, child frustrated, and he sat on the floor once again, the mother too tired to carry him, eventually dragged him to walk, which he resisted, a kind stranger eventually helped out and carried him up the stairs for us. Bless the mercy of kind strangers.

 

Finally we were in the bus and both mother and child could breath and gather themselves. Isn’t it so easy to judge from the outside, we would do it different? But when you actually in the situation, you see the frustration, exhaustion, challenges, it’s too real to judge. My friend loves her son dearly and is a fantastic mother, after her ordeal of getting the little one home she made sure he was happy and not angry at her, she made sure he was clean and fed and relaxed. I felt a bit useful being able to cook for them, give her a little breathing space. At dinner she sacrificed all her meat for him, the child can eat like a man! She fed him first before she could eat even though she was starving! She made all the little sacrifices a mother makes for a child, even after he gave her a very difficult time she still only showed love and concern, because he was her child. I was touched by her motherly ways. I will never judge a mother and child again, because we truly don’t know from the outside what either are going through.

After the day was over, I was tired and made my way home. My dear friend still had to see to her son and make him sleep and tidy up her house. I once again had the luxury of just getting myself home and relaxing before another day at the grind. I left her apartment and for a moment I thought I had forgotten my sunglasses, I opened my handbag and saw she had put my sunglasses in my bag. Now that is a mother, I had thought with a smile. .

Awareness · depression · mental illness · Uncategorized

Who am I?

Who am I? Er, who are you reading my blog? I joke, you are welcomed here. Not sure what you would want to know about me, but I’ll keep this brief. This blog is to help people with depression feel less isolated as well as bring awareness to people who do not understand it as to what goes on in the mind of a depressed person.

Disclaimer though, this is all MY PERSONAL opinions and experiences, I claim no expertise, they are merely my musings!

Personally I have learnt to manage my depression, still aided with medication which I plan to stop when I am in a more stable environment. Other than that a great amount of self-awareness helps me manage my depression on a day-to-day level. 

So no, I am not a haunted ghost living in a dark closet. I am a normal person just like you that battles demons everyday, but I’ve made friends with my demons so they don’t control me. I hope you can do the same!

Enjoy my musings!