I used to take sessions on mental illness at schools under my Bachpan Project, i have many people, many readers discussing their “issues”, as they call it with me. I don’t call it issues, i don’t like to call it illness too because it is much deeper than that. I call it life, life because falling in and out of love is life, life because being hurt is life, life because not feeling okay without any reason is life, life because thinking you are depressed is life too.
Few days back i was having an incredibly low phase of life as i like to call it, the sleep went away, books were left unread, calls unanswered and thoughts cluttered. My Instagram filters added up and my life became unfiltered. There were temporary phases of feel good with long spells of anxiety. Our mind is a glorious bastard, do you realize that it manipulates our memory according to our perception. In my part of memory, I went home and talked to my mother saying I don’t know how I will tolerate the job that doesn’t motivate me, how i will close the curtain of an unhappy relationship. In the same memory, my mother and dad say Think positively, and this is it.
When i talk about their perception of that day, the conversation is all about Think Positively. I am on my phone, busy chatting to someone they don’t recognize and they think its just her restless phase. You have always been like that since a teenager, Think Positively” they say and we laugh. We laugh and have some dessert at dinner to shoo it off.
But i remember that phase drains me up, i remember that no one hugs me up and says not to think positively. I remember being told that i was always this angry girl, i am not angry i want to say but i stay shut. The roots of your changed behavior is traced to some idea of weights that needed to be released. At brunches, at dinner is served empathy when each one talks about a girl with a no name who should have “thought positively, the mouth freshener is the sympathetic talk on people’s struggles.
And then they retire, retire in silence to the elephant in room. No one wants to talk about it. Think Positive laughs from a corner. I remember the story i heard in childhood about a king who was made to believe that only people who have brains can see the cloth he is wearing, he goes around naked in his city and everyone admires the cloth. No one wants to accept that the king is naked. No one wants to accept that they don’t have brains. No one in us wants to accept that we are imperfect.
“Think Positive” is the same invisible cloth i guess. In this apartment where i live alone but it’s my own piece of peace, here i do everything to smile. The Amrita Pritam poster, Gulzar and his magical lines and flowers, but i don’t want any “Think Positive” to enter this space. My coping up is beautiful in it’s own way.
As for family, as for the friends who watched from a distance i have no complaints. We have been instilled with the idea of taking so much pride in our families that the pain is camouflaged.
Have i let go of the hurt ?
For now i don’t have answers to it and Yes i am not thinking positively, i am just taking my time.