A lot has been spoken about depression, anxiety, the silent killers, telling everyone what to do, what not to do if someone close to you is a victim of it, but the real pain happens in the dark when alone. This is one bad day of a person suffering with this disease. Live it, feel it. Then you will know yourself, how to help the helpless. Here Mehak Mirza Prabhu, an avid storyteller from Mumbai, evinces the doom and gloom from a victim’s POV. The Dark Reality – Just another bad day, depression meaning in hindi, depression treatment test causes symptoms, depression icd 10 after delivery.
The Dark Reality – Just another bad day
It’s 12 o’clock. It’s so dark. I am so sleepy. Eyelids are heavy as wet winter blankets. Phone is ringing. I forgot to keep it off hook and I have only myself to blame for that. I have only myself to blame for many more things; fast reducing bank balance, bad performance at work, son’s bad reports from school, the mess this house is in, the glass that broke, the tap that leaks, the AC that needs repairing, the lost driver’s license, the list is endless and goes in every possible direction of my life. I can either shut all of them down or feel it all. I have lost the perspective to choose the important ones.
It’s 12:30. It is so dark. I am so tired. My body aches. Must be because of my increased weight, which must be because of the ice creams and cakes, but my body aches a lot. The phone is ringing again. It’s painful to go and pick it up. Why can’t one sleep in peace?
I dream of black dogs chasing me, dream interpretation says it’s a bad sign. What can be worse than that ringing phone, chasing my dreams away. I prefer nightmares as I sleep than to waking up and talking to anyone. Why does he keep calling me. My harshest words don’t put him off, they only add up to my pile of guilt. Let it ring. It will stop soon. He will soon be put off soon!
It’s 2 o’clock. It’s darker now. The sight in front of me is scary. What happened in this room? Last I recollect it wasnt in this bad shape. That pretty vase on the little table, who kicked it while I was asleep? Books have jumped off their shelves, scattered all around, “Gone Girl”, is brutally gone. Why would anyone do this to them. I feel so lonely amidst this mess. I need to speak to him right now. I reach for the phone, which is silent as dead, broken as the vase. As I walk back to my bed, broken glass pricks my feet. Blood stains my carpet and makes me cry.
Who has directed all it’s anger on to these harmless things? and the same old question haunts me again, “Was it me?”
It’s 2:30. I creep into my blanket to go off to sleep. No more ringing of the phone. I finally can act dead, if cannot be. My blanket is safe, it’s all dark under it.
I am sleepy. I am tired. It’s dark within.
Outside the afternoon sun has given up trying to get me out of bed.
It’s 3 o’clock. On bad dark days it’s all the same, am or pm, what difference does it make.
Author Mehak Mirza Prabhu, is a 34 year old mother, storyteller, writer, entrepreneur, and lives in Mumbai. Passionate about creating and narrating stories in various languages. Consciously trying to bring people face to face with reality, not through statistics and reports, but through fiction laced reality based stories that all can relate to, and thus can feel others’ pain. Social reform enthusiast, blogger at Half Baked Beans, Storyteller at Storytel (Sweden), featured in The Logical Indian page and promotional head and writer on Scribbled Feel; is looking forward to more challenges that life can bring to her, to make her pen mightier.
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