My little monster

Depression. Finally getting a diagnosis was a relief of sorts. For months I had no name for what was haunting me, what kept making me feel as though I was trapped in my own body — unable to escape, unable to be at peace and unable to see anyone around happy.

I would smile for everyone to see, but there was no joy in it. Everything looked fine, but nothing was fine really.

My professional life was a bliss – I had an amazing job, a great team and an absolutely lovable boss. I even received awards. Yet, in my heart I knew that I was not giving it my 100 per cent. (In fact, I have been feeling that I am not giving 100 per cent to anything anymore.

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And, then the marriage…

From being a self-conscious, meek girl she has finally learnt to express herself. She wears what she wants, drinks what she wants, listens to the desi numbers in public without being embarrassed and doesn’t try to explain herself after tearing up in the movie theatre.

She was finally living her life. There was no one to judge her. No one to tell her that she should get dressed on a particular evening. She wore a pretty dress to the shadiest of the bar and the shabbiest of her shirts to a five-star hotel; she did whatever she felt like.

But, of course, this was not to last.

As she turned 25, her mother thought that it was the perfect age for her to get married. She needed to have kids before it was too late (30, in her mother’s opinion).

But, was she ready? No one asked her. Continue reading