Part I: State of the Mind

Millennials don’t believe in labels (possibly in irony, but not labels). Conforming to this label-les-ness, I won’t put a name on what I’m going through. Not least because my therapist didn’t spell it out for me. Maybe there isn't a diagnosis. 

For some time now, I've been struggling to write. The yearly bout of writer's block. This time though, it's stayed on longer. It has become friends with other, kind of not-short-term residents, anxiety and depression. Having written 4-5 lines now, I feel it's an achievement. But as I write this I’m not sure if it is a good idea to write about this. Some of you may not understand it - this is okay. Some of you may be concerned - thank you. Some of you may be upset that I didn't mention it earlier - I'm sorry but maybe this post will explain why. Some of you may relate to this - we could talk. Some of you may want to give me advice on how to deal - thank you, but I am now getting help that I'm comfortable with and would like to stick to it, I'm healing I'd say. I'll explain in the next post.   

I'm physically healthy. I have mostly healthy relationships - supportive parents, family and friends. I'm educated and can study more if I so wish. I'm employed at a good organization. I do not have to fear being forced to leave or lose my home, city, country and migrate - which is more than what a large chunk of our world can say right now. But I'm not okay. I'm not very happy. Something has made its home within me, for a while now. Something has been nagging me. Something has been making feel like I might burst at the seams. 

As I write right now, I feel a little disappointed in myself. I want this to be funny (what my writing usually aspires to be). I'm trying. But not sure this one will be. Something I need to contend with, more than you, the reader. I want this to strike a chord, but then not really - because that would mean there are more out there, feeling this way. 

My mind has been messy. And it's been over active for 7-9 months now. If only it was in the mad scientist/prodigy sort of way... Alas, it's only the quarter-life crisis. As I type this, I wonder if some of you think, "what a brat!" or "not another rant, everyone goes through it, it's going to be okay" and I'm not sure I'll articulate stuff correctly here. And the build-up has gotten too much at this point. 

I have had days when I've not been sure what I'm doing in life or why I'm doing what I'm doing. Some days, I feel like I'm not where I thought I would be at 24. I fear turning 50 and regretting the chances I didn't take and leading a bitter existence, where everyone is sick of hearing me be sarcastic about the life I didn't have. There have been days when I didn't look forward to anything, with no motivation to do or say anything. I even developed some level of social anxiety - something I didn't quite have before. While I always needed some "me" time, I never backed off from a social gathering - especially one with close friends. All of a sudden, I was resorting to excuses, switching off the internet on my phone (so I wouldn't have to deal with incoming WhatsApp messages). Then there would come a sudden spike in my social life where I'd be out 4 days in a row - "normalcy". And immediately, I'd want to shut it down.

https://www.facebook.com/AwkwardYeti/

Those of you who have known me a while know that I have always dreamed of living by myself or living in different cities, or travelling. I've also encouraged others to take this step. One morning I woke up and realised that everyone, including some folks I didn't foresee taking this step, had moved on. That hit me hard. I tried to console myself that I just had to be patient, it'd happen. I then remembered I never planned on living in Delhi for more than 2 years  (2008-10) and now I'm closing in on a decade. I did try - that failed journey to Bangalore and Azim Premji University and back when I got through JNU. I told myself I'd get some work experience and then I'd head out. But I didn't account for unemployment before finding an actual job. I got the job, I didn't account for how work is in the first 6 months of work-life (adjusting, learning slowly). Some of my peers seemed a lot more certain about what they wanted to do, their interests and next steps... (they seemed "sorted"). I got comfortable in the job and I realised I hadn't focused on trying to figure out specifically what my interests and future work should be, so I went with the flow, exploring what came my way. All this, while hearing comments that I should really try and get out and see more of the world, learn to be independent - as if I hadn't been saying that out loud for the longest time. But from the lens of practicality, staying where I am made sense and does, for right now. I shouldn't hurry, I'm told. I'm still young, I'm told. "Enjoy this time, you're not paying rent. But yes, you must head out, it's amazing." And then I wonder whether I have no skills or any critical thinking capacity within me. I wonder if I've stayed home with my parents in this comfortable life for so long that I'll crash and burn at my dream of being by myself. Thinking of solutions, I wonder if I should just get another haircut and maybe that will solve all my problems? Maybe cake will. 

As these thoughts were brewing, life hit my family and me with the unexpected. My aunt passed away while fighting cancer like a hero. We knew she was unwell but it never occurred to us that cancer would take her away from us completely. I became a zombie. I would zone out. I would cry uncontrollably. I was scared to be alone. I couldn't concentrate. Because none of it made sense. Because we missed her. Because I was concerned for my mom, my sister, my brother, my grandmother and the rest of the family. Given the way cancer entered our family (now having taken two beautiful, strong members of my family), I worried that I might fall ill any day since my lifestyle wasn't healthy. I would make up my mind on a Wednesday that the coming Monday, all would change. I would eat healthier, I would exercise, I would stay positive. I would either forget on Monday or it would hit a peak on Tuesday and crash and burn on Wednesday. In the next cycle, I'd decide to take the pressure off Monday and decide to start on a weekend. 

My sister had moved to New York City to attend graduate school around the time her mother passed away. She was adjusting to a completely new way of life and existence. She was doing well at school too. My mother, while showing her sadness some days, seemed resilient. And I felt like was falling apart every morning and piecing myself back together by the time the day ended. I'd have very few good, normal days. But I would have some really bad days. I would question my falling apart and being weak when I saw these two role models. Like I was just bad at being a person. Like I should pick up slack and be there for them, anything they needed. But I don't think I was capable of being there for myself. On their birthday eve (Ma and Chitti's), I spent an hour crying by myself, while there was a party at my friends's flat raging on in the background. I wanted to be alone because I couldn't handle being sociable (something that would be expected of me) but I couldn't be alone at the same time, I was scared and felt vulnerable for giving in to my tears.

Add to all of this, I didn't know how to articulate any of this to even my closest friends and family. I felt guilty about not being able to. I have also felt guilty feeling the way I did (and still kind of do). I am immensely proud and grateful to say that I had enough good people around me who wanted me to reach out to them if I needed anything. But I honestly didn't know what to say. Everyone was going through their own problems and I felt like no one needed to hear a privileged kid's (potential) quarter life crisis (#somuchfornolabels).  

Like a good academic report, I've now set the context, given a background. I'll write about getting help and how I've been doing in Part II.