In January 2021, when I had gone for a routine eye-test, I was asked if I was taking any medication. When I answered yes, the attendant asked me what my illness was, and I told her it is a form of depression. I say this whenever I encounter someone who might not have experience with mental health issues.
She looked at my mask-clad face and declared, “Aapko?? Kaise? Lagta nahin hai”.
Her automatic response made me smile (even if she couldn’t see it), and I told her I have come a long way.
Over four years ago, when I was struggling with various physical symptoms of illness, I had visited a well-known hospital in Mumbai for some tests. As I was waiting to know more, the floor supervisor spoke to me. “Why are you looking so sad? You have no serious illness, don’t worry!” was her immediate response. At that, I was ready to burst into tears.
A year later, I experienced my first psychotic episode.
Psychosis and involuntary extreme sleep deprivation are strange experiences to go through. In my case, I was connected to reality and disconnected at the same time. During the episode(s), not for a second did I realise that something was wrong with me, or that the racing thoughts I was experiencing were weird. The heightened expressions of laughter and crying and shouting were all lost on me. I kept writing and writing, as if there were no tomorrow.
All those who had previously interacted with me and who met me during my episode(s) knew immediately something was seriously wrong. I, on the other hand, was oblivious and my self-awareness plummeted.
Once the episode passes, the ruins of associations wait patiently for me.
In these four years, I have made peace with dealing with depressive symptoms, handling multiple triggers – sometimes on the same day, and the side-effects of medication. I am grateful at the chance life has given me, and am now deriving fresh joy from everyday tasks. What I still struggle with is the acceptance of all that happens during a psychotic episode, and I continue to apologise to people even now. So many of them have told me to not apologise, and while I rationally understand that I am not to blame, the utter lack of control I have experienced is disorienting to say the least.
Someday, perhaps someday, I’d be able to accept this with equanimity. I don’t feel helpless – psychosis is beyond my control – but I do want more people to appreciate and understand what it feels like.
