Grey

There is an inexplicable contentment one can derive from the sight of the falling rain and frothy waves beating against the shore. My thoughts are serene and the perpetual churning inside of me is a peaceful simmer now.

I am in Raa Atoll for work and I'm delirious about being free of the draining clutches of Malé City. Even if it is for a little while. Time and time again, whenever I am able to breathe in fresh air and not the thick fog of pollution, disease and despair Malé is immersed in, I reprimand myself for not taking more time away from the city.

It is raining here, delicious thick blobs of raindrops keep pelting against my skin, making me want to curl up inside bed covers and sleep for hours on end. There is so much greenery around me that I feel every string of my brain relax from the tightness they usually are wound up in. Every nerve in my body breathes gratefully for the open air and the occasional wisps of wind it accompanies.

We don’t talk about this enough. We don’t talk about the exhilaration we feel when strolling along the shoreline under a grey sky, thick with clouds impregnated by the oncoming bout of rain. We don't talk about how the air feels against our body or when it is coursing through our lungs, opening up the forgotten crevices of our chest.

I am alone on the beach, this plump stretch of white sand that encircles the island. My feet sink into the wet sand as I walk alone, content in my solitude. Where else in the world can I enjoy this feeling of complete and utter freedom? I belong here. Not in a city that drains the will to live from every pore on my skin. I deserve sand beneath my feet and a grey sky above me.

I deserve this.

Oblivion

I walk under the shade of trees, stepping on scatters of sunshine on the floor. Marble glistens around me and leaves sway above me. Weeping branches of bright green and brown hang overhead, a sharp contrast against the luminous white building that looms over us pedestrians. Beautiful and intimidating at the same time.

I walk to the centre of the square and stare at the ambivalent sky above me. Today is neither warm nor cold. Like nature has taken a slow deep breath. I wonder what is ahead. A storm... or more days of sweat trickling down our backs? Probably the latter.

I seek refuge in the welcoming embrace of more trees reaching for the skies. The bench where I sit is empty and I settle down, taking a long deep breath. Even walking is a trial today. Every step I take is exhausting. Every breath, a chore.

I sit and wait for my mind to take it all in. Flowers, leaves, trees and grass. Things that usually bring a smile to my face. I am surrounded by so much beauty and yet all that is on my mind are these five cursed words.

"What is the fucking point?"

Simple Pleasures

Sitting at my usual cafe, staring at the view outside; a crispy clear sky and a whimsical ocean. Little speedboats zoom past, turning ripples into froth, while larger ships loom dormant in the blue horizon.

Sun beams make the ocean shimmer and the light bounces off the windows, casting the shine onto my spectacles and I am momentarily distracted by the snorkelers that surface and dive right back again into the expanse of the reef and I wonder when I'll ever muster up the courage to tackle my biggest fear. Maybe someday.

I have music in my ears and a book in my hands but I take pleasure in simply sitting there, enjoying the scenery... like I enjoy my own company. There is an inexplicable contentment one can derive from enjoying one's own company. A sense of peace, of independence.

A hearty breakfast is set before me and I indulge, putting aside the book for the time being. Potatoes wedges, sausage, grilled mushrooms and a tomato topped with pesto sauce decorate the plate while three plump slices of bread sit lavishly at the centre. I savour every bite.

I pick up my book, sit back and start reading... and all is right with the world. For now.

Mad World

The heat makes it unbearable. My scalp leaks and trails down my neck, my back and between my breasts. I loathe this heat and this brightness.

I saw a post on Twitter that said that people who suffer from depression experience lower retinal activity, making the world appear more dull, more monochrome.

To me, the colours are too vivid. The world around me is bleeding and brimming over with bright hues...and my eyes cant take it. I need the comforting blanket of grey skies and the occasional chill to stay sane.

The sky is too blue. The sun, too bright.  And the noise is deafening. The world isn't dull. It is overwhelmingly vicious.

And my mind cannot take it.

Relapse

It's February now. And that makes it my fourth month without therapy. I don't recognise what I've become.

My conscience hounds me day and night. “Just start with someone new. You'll ease into it.” It urges me. “It will take months to get there. But you'll feel better again, once you begin talking to a professional. And then you won't feel this way. You won't feel so damned ineffectual.”

In response, Despair rears its head and narrates a thousand reasons why crawling over to a new Therapist and drowning her with my woes is a bad idea. What a daunting task it would be to begin again. How exhausting it would be. How exhausted I already am.

Somehow writing this down makes it sound like an excuse. It makes me sound weak. It makes me sound like a coward. Coward. What an ugly word.

It is beyond self pity, this feeling of worthlessness. And lately I've felt impure. In a spiritual sense. Mind you, not religious. But spiritual. As in; the essence of who I am. I've felt it taint, slowly and irreversibly, I've felt it taint.

I feel useless and worthless… and mostly, I feel like a hypocrite. Qualities that I used to pride myself on have degenerated and withered into pitiful semblances of what once was. I feel intolerant and overwrought and ugly, deep within my soul.

I realise the change in circumstances have forced my hand in some situations, that some insecurities are inherent and that for a while, I had been doing so well. A disciplined intake of antidepressants and regulated sessions with my Therapist had calmed my inner chaos. It had granted me some serenity, helped me gain some perspective.

My Therapist had to move abroad in October. And I'm waiting for her to settle down and arrange her set-up so we can Skype. Till then we chat on Viber. I try not to be an inconvenience. But it's been over three months and I suppose it's time I made a decision. My deteriorating mental state is hurting not just me and my work, but the people I love as well. I need to step up again. I need to help myself so a professional can help me.

The first thing I have to do, though, is cease being so hard on myself. I remember her saying once. “No one can be kinder to you than you, yourself.” I need to carve that into my psyche. And practice it.