I remember days when I cried incessantly, lying in bed skyping with you. There was no apparent reason. I used to wake up in the morning with this terrible pain and I could watch my life slowly disintegrating. You were the first to tell me I might be suffering from depression. I couldn’t get out of bed for days, couldn’t motivate myself to take a shower or even eat something. I was sinking into a dark abyss of meaninglessness. You were right. The doctor finally diagnosed me with depression.
Living alone in Germany to get my PhD was difficult. The first year was exciting, but then everything went dark. I was too ill to take care of myself. You persuaded me to go back to India to you and my family. I decided to take sick leave and went home for an indefinite period.
When I landed back in India, I was a very different person. I was eccentric, suicidal. I shouted at you for every single thing I didn’t feel good about. The doctor told you to hospitalise me. But you were confident you could take care of me. You never knew when I would freak out and call you names. You stayed by my side comforting me.
You bought me a series of ‘Calvin and Hobbes’ volumes, and now I have the full collection of them. I felt much better when I read them. I couldn’t fall asleep at night. Once I woke you up at 2 a.m. and made you watch ‘Before Midnight’ along with me as I stayed wide awake.
By this time I was starting to have hallucinations and was getting paranoid. In spite of knowing your dedication, I doubted you. The doctor took a detailed case history of my condition and I was diagnosed finally with schizo-affective disorder. It’s a complex condition with mood disorders, both hypomania and depression along with paranoia and other symptoms.
My condition deteriorated and I was shattered sitting there dumbfounded. You almost stopped working and devoted all your time to me. When I thought life was a curse to me, you continuously bathed me with your love and affection. I can write this letter because of you. You understood me better than my parents and sister did. You took the time to explain my condition to them. I am overwhelmed to have you in my life. My love can never reciprocate your generosity.
You saved my life from despair. I slowly revived myself with your love and support and with my family by my side. After half a year, I decided to go back to Germany and continue my PhD. It was not an easy decision. The first few weeks were good. Then I started to have the symptoms again. You stood firm by me. There were days when I wouldn’t talk to you — except a few acerbic words. Still you called me every hour and checked whether I had had my meals each day. You encouraged me to leave my dark room and go out.
Life showers some of us with these dark black glasses, and silently we melt away in the crowd. When things got out of your control you wrote to my closest friend here in Germany so that he could take care of me.
In some ways, I am still fighting the condition. But you are my hope. You keep me going. There are days even now when I don’t want to wake up and get up from bed, but you talk me through and make sure I eat and at least do some of my daily chores. All of these you do via video call; such is your patience.
We live thousands of kilometres apart in completely different parts of the world. But the distance never stops you from caring enough for me. All the dark lanes and corners of my life are illuminated as I lay basking in your love.
(The author has a bipolar disorder and wishes to share her experience as a survivor, reaching out to people out there who may be suffering silently.)
anasuya.chakrabarty@gmail.com
