Faces of pretence

I do wonder if I have imagined all the problems and if I overreact or if I don't know how to handle my emotions and I'm just being a whiny wuss. It's an odd and even vain thing to do, take selfies when you're having a breakdown. But I want this to serve be 'photographic evidence' what it can be like.

The evening began with incredible restlessness and hyperactivity. Then I calmed down but dipped a bit too low. And, I had to drink to feel better but that's never a good idea. I had a breakdown. Then, exhausted and all energy tapped out, I wanted to see if I could smile convincingly. Apparently, I could. People loved the fourth pic. SKS even said I looked hot. 

And that's what I've been thinking about. I can pretend too darned well. I feel like such a hypocrite. But I'm not doing this to harm anyone or with malicious intent, so, I don't think I will care. 

I want to undo things I've done in the last one year. I want to make people believe I'm back to being my old self. Maybe that way I will make myself believe it, too. 

I'm amazed at how easily AS believed me today that he's not responsible for what I've become. I didn't say anything because I'd rather suffer than hurt him. Because I might still be able to deal with it better. Because that's always what it has been like with me. I CANNOT open up. I get paralysed. And I know what a good guy he is. Then he had to mention about the emotions attached and I felt so ashamed. Why don't I feel the same? I don't know what I feel. 

I'm curious about how quickly his demeanour changed once he was sure he isn't the reason or that I'm probably not going anywhere. It was like being our old selves again. The same thing that pushed me till here. The same pretence of understanding when inside I wanted it to just fucking stop. Hardly talking about me. Just listening and sympathising. 

This is how it will always be. 

Kind, generous, talented and useless+inefficient

 Everyone who has anything nice to say about me says how kind, generous and talented I am. How does that help or matter if I'm absolutely shyte at my job? People have only kept me because I'm affable and I give no trouble. 

I haven't completed tasks in the last one year. Everyone's doing well with the processes and organisational things but me. What purpose is my niceness going to serve? It's the most unproductive crap. I can only bring relief to people so that they do well in their careers. I will still lag behind and keep anyone I co-work with behind with me. How long can they drag my weight? C is already struggling with their own issues and I am just being a burden. They end up doing all my tasks, while I sit there useless, with no purpose at all. 

I don't want colleagues to call me kind or sweet or funny. I hope some day they will say I am so efficient and good at my work. But I don't think they ever will have this opportunity. How can I be so dense? How can I not break these things down? 

I cannot not help J

It was a strange meeting with J today. Having S around helped me be a bit more honest about what I think. It's heartbreaking what she is going through. And so messy. I can understand the insecurity and it's scary to even try to imagine myself in her shoes. 

I know I was curt with her. My impatience got the better of me. And I do have a problem with some of her behaviour. We met after more than a year. But I lacked the enthusiasm. I hope I manage to enjoy with her again. 

I did think I will ask her to sort her things out. But I can't abandon her. I cannot let her deal with this by herself. She really has no one. And she needs me. 

I just hope I can draw the line or be mindful of my comfort. It might also be time to take her on a trip. Fingers crossed. 

What am I doing?

What the actual fuck am I doing? There are people who still trust me. Who still think I can do things. Who think I'm reliable or someone they can be like. I wish I had that kind of belief in myself. 

I feel so jaded. I want to scream and tell them the person they know no longer exists. It's just her apparition now. But I can't get myself to disappoint them either. I still care. A lot. Just that this empathy is buried. Under layers of my own misapprehensions and self-doubt. 

I wonder what it will take to pull me out of this. To be my old self again. 

Broke down again today

Wow, what a day! Told everyone whom I must have got worried of late that I woke up happy and felt good, which I did. Then the feelings turned into a bit of hyperactivity. I still felt a bit sleepy but managed to have conversations and work somewhat. 

I felt so good that I forgot I'm on medication that keeps me feeling good. And that was that. Restlessness, edginess, palpitations, and the feeling of being overwhelmed creeped in. Felt a bit settled down after taking meds. 

Then I wanted to get a shut-eye because these feelings exhaust you. Didn't sleep. The Appreciation Circle started. And it's always that one unwanted thought that leads to more such thoughts. At times, imagined scenarios that won't even happen. Even before I could control them or thought of distracting myself, they had built up. 

Guilt. Shame. Self-blame. Feeling useless. One thing after the other and all together. It's like a prick of rusty, dusty nail that can cause sepsis. I had another breakdown. 

Yoga helped, thankfully. I still have some thoughts and negative feelings lingering over. But at least I will be able to work. 

What has happened so suddenly? I was doing well until last week!

Numb/AK

I'm back, to write some more. Because I'd rather do it here than tell anyone such a tragic thing.

Can't believe AK is no more. Not that we stayed in touch actively. I always wondered what was up with him after reading his social media posts. And we did interact a fair bit when I wrote for him for the magazine. I had a nagging doubt that he took his own life. His posts were always dark and strange but back then, I was still so reticent of starting a conversation with anyone. I didn't know how to deal with what they'd have to tell me. 

I don't say that it would have helped him if we spoke. Don't I know that it doesn't. But it's quite numbing, honestly. Especially when HS told me that he died by suicide and had stopped taking medication for BPD. Frankly, I'm a bit scared. Can't help thinking about the night I was coming back from Hoppipola. I was so low and dejected. And out of nowhere, I had this thought, 'What's the point in going on if this is how one feels all the time?' There's no purpose, no joy, the heart and the mind don't cooperate. It feels so hollow. And meaningless. 

Right now, I just keep reminding myself that it's too soon. I have been on a treatment only for a couple of months and it takes times to have positive effects. 

All the same, I feel like I'm climbing up a muddy slope in rain. The slush keeps making one slip down. During treks, there's usually someone more efficient you can rely on, who will give you a hand. And you know you will make it there alright.  

Stop talking

Ugh. It was so easy to keep things to myself earlier. All these years, no one really knew what I was thinking or going through or feeling. But now I have laid it all open. I think I regret it. It was such an impulsive thing to do. And now that I have started, I cannot stop. I'm talking, talking, talking all the time. With so many people. Too many people know me now. And I can't tell why I dislike that so much. I am fond of all of them. They are all so good to me and smart, awesome people. Why do I still feel guilty about opening up? It doesn't make sense. But nothing does these days. 

I feel like such an attention-whore. Every day I think I will only pour my heart out either here or on the WhatsApp self-chat but I end up chatting with so many friends. 

I also have this new thing creeping up. I'm a chill, fun person when I'm just getting to know someone. And it feels natural; like, I don't pretend to be as such. But once they come closer, out comes my real sad fucking self. I let my guard down. I feel I'm becoming thoughtless. My issues are no one's burden to bear. Why should I be saddling them with it? Making them worry about me and my well-being. It's an added task, being there for me, making sure I am okay when everyone has their own demons to deal with. 

I'm going to try harder till I reach the same point again. To deal with my crap on my own. For that, I really need to stop talking so much first!

What depression looks like

Pic: Reddit. R/pics

This image is under, 'This is what depression looks like'. A thought I've been having for a while. It's easy to fake things. Post a happy pic. Write a funny status update on  your social media. Upload funny memes. People are likely to think everything is fine with you. 

I know the kind of day I've had. Drowning my howling cry in music blasting loudly. Sobbing into my palms when the song ended so that no one would hear me. For the first time, I explicitly said that I cannot work today. Put on a smile and wit for the video call. And battled an insane, pounding headache for the rest of the day. 

Harshu coming over was such a blessing. Loved the conversations about our travels. And just talking about stuff. I still have the pounding headache. But I don't mind it now. 

Meeting J

I don't understand why I've been avoiding meeting J so much. Of course, I usually don't feel like meeting anyone but I'm not averse-averse to it so much. I can get myself to hang with people and be in an agreeable mood as well. But it's just with J that... I just don't know. 

I do feel bad about it, and guilty. I know she doesn't have many people to hang with. And she always meets me with enthusiasm. I guess I'm just tired. Of taking her around and more so of conversations. Earlier I could take a deep breath and do it all the same. But now, anything I have to force myself to do breaks me. 

I'm also afraid that I will snap at her. I've somehow come to correlate meeting her with doing a chore. It is a bit exhausting being around her. 

Come Sunday, hope I get around to it okay. 

Clarity

I wish I had clarity of thoughts. I guess I do have it. But it feels like it's trapped behind a door. And it's not the fog on the door that you can clear or that will evaporate. It's a translucent door. I can only see a vague form. Is it time to replace the door?

You. Because

You're real

You have a strange look in your eyes 

That's aloof, empty, emotionless, yet intense

The kind that just makes one want to be

Without the need to feel

To walk on the ground 

But really float above

To share comfortable silences 

Because words don't always have to be spoken 

To be meant

You

Because you are you

Answers

"How is that even possible?" First I stopped in my way and gasped in awe at the East Khasi Hills. The Universe has its own way of reminding you just how small a dot in the big picture you are. You stand at the foothills, crane your neck, timid in stature but bold in spirit and start walking. How is it even possible for so much beauty and magnitude to exist on Earth? If you think about it, it's just green colour... For miles. But when Nature adorns the colour, it's immediate magic. 

I made it to the Living Root Bridge with a clean mental slate. I didn't know what to expect. I was looking to be surprised, or shocked, so went to the uncharted territory, absolutely unprepared. We passed houses, people, villages, all strangers for each other but bound by the mountains, even if for the time being. The language of insects. A locked chapel. A cemetery—all white and somberly quiet yet peaceful. Cemeteries have that about them, don't they?

The old man had an expressionless face. No curiosity. He has seen tourists for years. Another humbling thought. You visit a place and are overwhelmed enough to build memories for the rest of your life. But does the destination or even its paraphernalia even spare a second thought for you? You know the answer, don't you?

Every bend had an ancient rock sitting deep in meditation for centuries. Expressionless like the old man. Calm quietude like the gravestones. You feel if you stood there long enough staring at the wise rock, asking questions, it would find a way to give you the answer—unsaid but to be felt. But are you ready to hear it? You know the answer, don't you?

Quagmire

Conflicts. Constant ones. Between what is and what should be. I like neither. Someone gets hurt in both cases. Both get hurt in both cases. It's a quagmire. I'll need to be very still. But how long can one last? Especially when I know no one will come to my rescue and I can't save myself either.

How did I even get here? Got to pay for ignoring the warning signs.

The Other Day

Can we have a few more 
Of the other day?

Lovers for a few hours
Lost in each other

When you were not sure
If you should go or stay

You heard, 'Go',
But you stayed

How did you hear
What was unsaid?

Looking beyond what was
While I was trapped inside me

We seized oneness
Then ceased to be

Now years later
Here we are again

Nothing is new
Then I have to
See if you are still you

History. Mirror

Why does history have to be such an unrelenting sod? It always comes back - in the form of events or people. Usually both. Things that happen, words that are uttered. It's like weed. Ugly and unwanted. Or a creeper that keeps growing. I thought I had uprooted it for good but then I see it raising its ugly head yet again. What's worse, I shouldn't have let it reappear. But I did. I should have got rid of it at the very first hint. But I didn't. What stopped me? Nothing. That's the worst part.

The creeper still grows. It has reached my ankles already. Soon it will creep its way up. First it will weaken my knees till I can't stand straight. Then it will make me sick to my stomach. My heart will be eaten, right up to my throat. Knowing me, I will let it grow till I am consumed by it completely, till I gag and cannot breathe and don't hear or see anything. I might make a few lame attempts to cut it off. But maybe I won't be sincere. I'll feel bad for the weed that needs to feed. Like I have been fed off before. Several times. I need to break this pattern. I don't want any reflections from the past. I don't want to be the mirror. Again. 

A constantly working mind

Remember Shasha once saying that for once I need to do something for myself. Right now I'm the last person I'm thinking of doing anything for. I want to curl up in a corner and stare into darkness and at the wall. I know I won't see a thing but it's just the thought of having my eyes open wide and the concrete feeling of the wall hitting them back that's appealing. That will be my moment with myself, however strange. But here I am, writing for H and then for K (which will be indirectly for me) and stressing about getting up at 7 AM again to go with S for his work! All the while thinking what mum will have to say when she wakes up to find me still awake. Where am I doing anything for myself or thinking about what I want to do? I really do want to curl up in the corner and sleep.

Got to be hard when you cannot say no. 

Why?

Where is my willpower? I used to pride myself for my determination at one point. I used to be so sure of myself - even in the mistakes I'd make. But now everything seems like such a big deal. My cool and unaffected self is long gone. Everything feels like it's within an inch of my face. I snap, I cry, I give up.

Why?

Untouched

There are a few things that deserve to or need to remain untouched. Friendship from younger days is one of them. I have friendship that is unaffected by all the ugliness. My college friends. Here's to many more years together! Cheers!!

That smell

Strange post to restart blogging with. But, times are strange. People are stranger. Anyway, got to flush out thoughts, too.

Went to a funeral today. I realise that of late it's the same thing that keeps playing on my mind. The smell. It harrows me to the point that I just want to run away. It's the smell of the sheet covering the body mixed with incense sticks.

The presence of that smell hasn't left me. Ever since Papa passed away. Partly because a few days after his funeral, I woke up from sleep gasping. I had been dreaming of his funeral pyre; and the smoke had entered my nostrils. It had felt much too real. As I woke up I kept repeating, 'The wood is still burning'. But I could only whisper that and my sisters sleeping next to me didn't even stir.

Now at any funeral I can look at the deceased person's body, even touch it, but it's that smell!

Would you?

If I were a bard

Would you be my poetry?

If my life were History

Would you be my unsung glory?

If I were a ship

Would you be the lighthouse

If I were a monastery

Would you be the holy vows?

If I were Alice

Would you be the rabbit hole?

Would you be Arctic

If I were the North pole?

If I were a song

Would you be my tune?

If I were the desert vast

Would you be my sand dune?

If I were a canvas blank

Would you be the paint?

If I were a sacred chant

Would you chant me like a saint?

Would you be Aesop

If I were a fable?

Would you always be with me

If I want us to be inseparable?