A Truckers Ode
The road is so long
The radio’s playing that song
Reminding me of her
The song ends
The tears subside
This has just been
too long of a ride
Missing daddy’s girl.
There’s a motel up ahead
Get a quick shower and and a
And a warm bed.
I’ll rest for the night
Then back on the road first morning light
Home is just a few more miles
Where hugs and smiles of the family
Are waiting for me.
So I’ll just keep rolling on
I had the same recurring nightmare until my late thirties. All I ever remembered was not being able to breath. Until the last time.
It started as just feelings and sensations. Warmth and love, layered with sadness and...wet. She is sobbing. Just seconds old, I can sense the pain. It devours the joy of my birth and renders me silent. I am set aside. I stay quiet and wait.
The stench of death permeates the air. New life takes a back seat to this tragedy. Grief drives that night as Father covers my face with one calloused hand and circles my neck with three fingers of the other. He pushes hard. I don't fight to breathe. My 22 month old sister cries. Father starts, releases his grip and stares through me for a minute or an hour. He retreats, sobbing.
Grandmother bundles me up. Sister, too. She drops us on a doorstep. The door opens to the smell of life. Yet I still sense pain. So many babies. Loud, crying for attention. I am silent. Waiting. My sister hits me. I deserve it.
My therapist says it could be a memory.
I never had the dream again.
From Depression To Death
I died. I watched myself die and all that I could do was stare.
I tried running to catch myself but I couldn't. I tried shouting, asking for help but I couldn't. I tried stopping myself but I couldn't. You see, that's what depression does to you. You want it to stop but you can't. You care, but not enough. Neither did I.
So, I watched myself die.
I screamed, but my voice never reached you. Perhaps, you didn't want to listen to it. When I told you that I'm going through depression, you pointed at my head and told me 'There's nothing called depression. It's all here .' If you told me that you had stomach cancer, would it make sense if I pointed at your stomach and said ' There is nothing like cancer. It is all here .' We are in the 21st century. Why don't you take depression for real? Depression does exist.
When tears were continuously running from my eyes, I was not in a state of going around or meeting anyone or talking. Only I knew what it felt like. I had to suffer this and no one would help me. People questioned me if something happened, why wasn't I talking or why I always put on a serious facade. So I had to smile and speak something.
No one knows about that mental pain. No one likes to talk about it. And yes, everyone hated me for my negativity. I was tired of trusting people. Everyone left me. I had to deal with this on my own. It was very hard, so hard to stick on and stand strong but at last, everything went in vain.
I was so fed up with all that broken heart and people giving me false assurances. I didn't talk to anyone because I assumed that something was wrong with me. I ran away from my friends. I knew that I didn't have the energy for all of this. Finally, I had disappointed everyone so much, that they couldn't stand me anymore.
At last, when I had no one next to me, depression became my best friend. She gave me a shoulder to lean on. If you hadn't mocked at my pain and laughed at my tears, I wouldn't have let depression become mine.
Depression in me gave rise to a walking corpse. Earlier, I used to write, laugh and sing but now, I cry, sleep and scream. We were best friends but eventually, I fell for her. She never left me alone. She told me that facing our problems and working through them would eventually kill us.
She lived deep inside me. She started stitching my torn heart to make sure it doesn't tear again. She came to meet me every night and pushed me into horrible memories. She threw me into a never-ending black hole. She left me with no hopes and ambitions. She brought out the artist in me. I started craving beautiful pictures on my hand. She gave rise to an actress in me. I started faking smiles and acted like nothing could consume me.
She made me cry for no reason. She had taken immense control over me. She screamed at me every day and started telling me how terrible I was. She made me replay every mistake I had ever made. She humiliated me on a daily basis. She made it impossible for me to be happy.
I decided that I did not want her to be a part of my life again. I hated her and I hated myself for ever letting her in my head and loving her. I needed help. I wanted to break up with her. The only way I could break up was by giving her my life and I did it. I died. Peacefully.
If you had helped me when I came up to you, if you had heard me and tried to comfort the crying face hiding behind a pretty smile, I wouldn't have died.
Just a request: Everyone undergoes a phase of depression at one point or the other. When your dear ones come to you, comfort them or be ready to let them run away, forever. I did not run away because I was afraid. I ran away because the only way to escape fear was to trample it within my feet. This was my way of escaping it. Don't allow others to run away, like the way I did.
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