Of Battles Within

Of all the battles that you fight, the ones you fight within your head are the toughest.

Every morning I walk my son to his class. That is the time of my day when I am feeling accomplished, having survived the chaos of getting a preschooler ready for school. As we walk to his home class, we pass by his art class. During this hour, his art teacher (who has a heart of gold) is playing some great music on his great stereo. The kind that makes your day. The volume is perfect; loud but not loud. It is a fitting end to my morning frenzy. And one of the best feelings of my day.

This morning a nice soft song played as I walked in. I found myself hoping that the song was still on on my way out. It was. I felt so moved by this sad lovely song. I slowed my pace to catch a few words so that I can google it later. But I was already at the exit door and could not catch one word.

Something took over my shy inert self and I turned, walked back and asked him “Mr. David, may I ask which song is this?” He smiled and said “It’s called Vincent, like Vincent Van Gogh, it is played by Don McLean”. And as an afterthought, “I love your choice of songs”. I am going to have to avoid eye contact with him for a month now (rolling eyes).

Like everything else in my life, this incident was opportune. I find most things happen in my life in connection to each other. I often look for signs and read more into them than most people who rely on data would.

Few days back an old classmate messaged me on LinkedIn. “Hey, what surgery?”. Referring to my LinkedIn bio (clearly I went over the top). I messaged back. “Bunion surgery on both my feet in 2010. How are you, babe?” I did not think much about this correspondence other than the fact that I had not heard from her in the past 11 years.

Two days later I saw her response, “Not well, I have been diagnosed with Clinical Depression”. I saw these words and my heart saddened a little. But only after the initial wonder and admiration.

I could not quite place my feelings about this simple sentence and decided that LinkedIn is not the medium I want to continue this conversation on. I searched for her number from the school WhatsApp group. I texted her on her phone (two days after I saw the message) and asked her how was she doing.

By now, I had time to process my initial feelings about this conversation. I do not know what I admired more, the candidness or the courage it must have taken to speak of your condition to a stranger (well, almost).

I know it is hard. I know because I saw someone I love dearly battle and overcome depression . I may not understand how the heart and mind works in this condition because I am someone who pushes through things without acknowledging what I am feeling. Putting layers and layers of work, activities, TV shows, mindless puzzling, and what-not into numbing what I feel.

 So when my dear friend suffered silently, she would not talk to me out of the fear of my “suggestions”. Why don’t you start workout? Why don’t you leave your job, find a new one? Why don’t to move in to my city? Why don’t you join some dance class? Any new activity?

I completely failed. I did not see that some people are actually brave enough to face what they are feeling. And go a step further by acknowledging that something is not quite right. And go a step even further by wanting to do things to change it. Albeit with all the battles in their minds.

I look back on those conversations and silently feel sad and ashamed for being so insensitive. When you tell someone who is trying so hard to get things back in order that you may want to do more, you are essentially telling them that “Uh uh, not good enough”.

If I could do it over, I would not give a litany of suggestions to people who have expressed their challenges to me. I would just sit and listen, acknowledge that yes, things are tough. And tell them, while things are just the way they are, it is just what it is, you will still get over it and be fine. Give them a hug and sit there talking or not talking (whatever they may like).

What is it that makes us go off balance? What makes us forget where our feet are and where do we land them? Is it something as simple as loss? Loneliness? Yearning? Is it lack of control over our own lives? Not able to break ties with the past? Is it not able to see a future that we would have liked? Is it realizing that this is not the life we planned for? Or imagined?

Mental health is not just in the mind. It is more physical than we think it is. Scientists say that chronic loneliness increases the risks of early death by 50%. The risks of dying before the age of 70 owing to obesity is 30%. I am appalled. Read the entire article here.

Well, you may think it is surprising we spend so much money, time and energy on keeping ourselves fit physically and practically do nothing for a healthy mental state. In fact, we poke it, abuse it, test it and do things we know are not good for us. Why don’t parents teach kids how to handle stress, how to handle outbursts, sorrow, loss, defeat.

At a subconscious level we refrain from talking about such things altogether, as if these are contagious. From our tongues to our lives.

My yoga practice teaches me to accept what is given to us. Not to control things in our live. Let go of what we can not change. Live in the present; neither the past, nor the future. This is a the easiest and simplest way to live. Everything is in the present. All the answers.

But it is often difficult for us to abide by this. So I urge you all to fill your days with hugs. I want to talk about human touch more, but I need to get back to work (I see some of you are nodding in agreement). I urge you to fill your lives with friends who knock on your doors unannounced. I urge you to sometime sit and cry and acknowledge that it is not easy.

But it is what it is. And one day, it will be enough.

If you did not yet make the connection between the song and my days (duh); the genius Van Gogh battled depression. I reached work and put on my headphones, searched for the song and played it. It moved me. I felt gratitude for being able to find things (and non-things) that moved me.

So if you have a song that moves you, go on and put on your headphones (or not). Listen to it. Fortissimo.

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