All I have is a Dream.. » Another Dreamer

Being positive for a change

Another Dreamer — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 19:00:19 +0000

I lie in this bed, sick again. I look at my life and wonder if I made wrong choice somewhere. So many people tell me that I did, but I can’t get myself to believe them. That must mean I’m doing it right, no?
I know I should be upset about ex, being alone and somewhat friendless, pressures of work and studies, being broke all the time. But I don’t feel upset. Is there something wrong with me? I saw valentine episode of grey’s anatomy and all I feel is sappy happy. I still believe everything happens for a reason and while I have my down days, I cannot be pessimist all the time. Oh sure, I curse life every now and then (ok more than now and then). But I know I’ll find my rainbow at the end. Whether it’s a white picket fenced house or a shack at some beach, it’ll happen in its own time.
I guess it’s hard to accept that people can be content even things seem tough. And it’s not so tough anyway, unless you count unable to buy books at every whim or call your friend at 1 in night because you want to have ice-cream.
So maybe it’s the medication or maybe it’s my grown up genes or just this burning temperature, I don’t feel sad. I might in another 2 days, but not today.

Ps: ‘dream on’ is playing on my laptop right now.. Coincidence?

PPS: I want to call a certain ex and tell him he was wrong, my decision to go for psych wasn’t wrong. So he can fuck off. Being too mean??

Do I miss Twitter??

Another Dreamer — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 21:13:51 +0000

Hell yeah… I’ve been offline for just 3 days and As my anxiety gets better, I’m feeling the withdrawal symptoms.
Here’s top 5 reasons I miss twitter:
1. People are walking so slow in front of me and hogging whole footpath. Then there are stinky people on Tram. Then the scary drunk lady on tram – And I can’t whinge on Twitter.
2. I had to pay Uni fee. I’m broke as hell and I can’t share my pain.
3. Amazon stopped free shipping to Australia. THIS. PAINS. ME. SO. MUCH. And to think, no outrage outlet.
4. I lost 3 kg. Can’t brag to other people with body issues.
5. I went to central to get money out and forgot debit card at work. Such a #FML moment and STILL. CANT. SHARE.
Most importantly,
WHAT IF MY FRIENDS ON TWITTER FORGET THAT I EVER EXISTED??

Yet another rant of a desi girl

Another Dreamer — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 02:37:42 +0000

It started about two weeks back. One of our family friend’s son got married, and of course that depressed my mother. And like a true mother, she decided to take me to the task. So we had our first fight in a long time. It ended up in both being in tears. I understand her reasons. She’s being described as a bad mother by most of our relatives including my grand-mother for having such children. One married against family’s wishes and doesn’t visit them anymore. Other remains a spinster and has moved to a different country altogether. I should’ve been patient with her, But I wasn’t. I hated being blamed for doing what I think is right. And I hated the fact that I have to bear the brunt of anger towards my brother as well. I spent evening mostly being depressed about being such a disappointment as a daughter. Luckily it got better a day later. Scars were there, but healing.
Til it happened again last night. I tried to tell her that she shouldn’t say things like this. I knew she was hurting due to my brother’s recent lack of calls to her. He has always been her star and she can’t stand not talking to him. So we hurled words that we didn’t mean. We shed tears and stopped talking to each other again.
Now, no matter how much I try to understand it, I cannot grasp the concept of their happiness being related to my marital status. More so, because it’s always prompted by snide remarks of the relatives. Why do these relatives worry so much about my life? I know they don’t care about me. I doubt if anyone would give me their kidney, if required? So Why? Why as an Indian Society, we are so obsessed with marriages? Why does something has to be wrong with the girl and her up-bringing if she chooses to wait for her mr. right?
It’s not that I do no want to get married. I will. Maybe. Or maybe not. But whatever it will be, it will be on my own terms. I refuse to be tied by chains of tradition. Yes, it makes me depressed. Yes, it is the reason for my recent anxiety comeback. Yes, I end up in tears half the time. Yes, I feel guilty and responsible. But you know what? Even after all this, I refuse to give up. My life is not a game where you can place me anywhere as a pawn. If I have to spend rest of my life as a pariah, I will. If it means I die alone, surrounded by fishes, Let it be. At least it will be on my own terms and world can suck it.

Stigmas of Mental Health

Another Dreamer — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 23:36:14 +0000

We like to believe that there’s nothing wrong with us. Esp when it comes down to mental health. We pretend we are ok, sometimes we lie that we are ok, sometimes we ignore if we are not ok. Once in a while, sense kicks in and we seek help. Friends, Family and Medical Professionals. I’ve mentioned before how rarely we actually reach out for professional help. And for what reason? Nothing, but because we look down upon people who need professional help.

I’ve personally struggled with anxiety for years. I’ve been on medication, off medication. Been alright for years, have had panic attacks, been hospitalized for it, have scared friends and family at times. And it’s a fact I’ve kept hidden from most people. Because it’s shameful to admit you might have a mental health related problem. And one time when I did admit, my then BF broke up with me saying he couldn’t handle any other episode of my panic attack. So here we are. You have a problem, but you hide it. You feel bad about it. You lie about it. Not realizing, all this might be just adding on the stress, which in turn propagates your problem.

So finally you decide to be brave and open about it. Which is kinda funny, because let’s face it, it’s really not that serious a problem til of course, you are in a hospital unable to breathe. So when this week, I found myself at edge again, I decided to be smart and went back on my medication. (Which is what my last GP recommended). And I found myself talking to a good friend about life and situations and the fact I’m back on medication. Reaction was not what I expected. He wants me to go off them. Because they are not healthy. And I can see his point.

Most people are afraid of any medication that has to do with anxiety or depression. They see it as a pathway to new addiction. In some cases, it might be very much true. But here’s a thing, if someone is struggling with depression or anxiety, don’t ever tell them to stop medication. Nobody likes to have a pill control their life. We all are trying our very best to be normal, or as normal as one can be. Sometimes we need help, sometimes a crutch. And if we are lucky, we get out of it alive, unscathed.

So I might be most happy-go-lucky girl you know, but sometimes I visit dark places. Don’t try to judge me too badly about it. I’m holding on the railing and hopefully will be out soon.

No, I don’t want to remember

Another Dreamer — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 05:10:56 +0000

You know how sometimes a random thought or memory just hits you in the gut. Like it wants to burst forth. No matter what you were doing, you are seized by this memory and transported to another time. It goes away in a while, leaving you in present, hugging yourself, trying to brave out the pain. What do you do when that happens?
Here I was, enjoying my Sunday, reading latest Murakami and all of a sudden I was reminded of something very precious to me. Why and how, I don’t understand. I just want this memory to go away.
Our brains are such brilliant things. They retain the information they need and block out the rest. One of the things that I’m really good at is Blocking memories. Oh yes, I do remember the past and I do cry over it. But anything which is stronger than my tears is blocked. For e.g. Inappropriate touches that I faced as a child are a distant memory. They come back once in a while, but most of the times I don’t remember any of it. Teenage issues with my family. Nothing. I know there was something, but I can never reach it. Which is good in a way. I know one should remember the past to learn from it. But why remember anything that traumatizes you. No wonder I always get alcohol amnesia and sometimes even medicinal one.
Similarly I think I did block out most of my relationship with A. More from self-preservation point of view. Breaking up and being in new city was painful enough, had I remembered everything, I can imagine myself doing something crazy. So while I miss those few days we had, I have conveniently omitted lot of stuff from them. Imagine my surprise and pain, when I remembered that he holds my most precious souvenir from travels. Of course, I did gift it to him. Of course, I have no right to even mention it. Of course, it’s not like I don’t have any of his stuff. But, It’s just one of those things. I always kept it close, waiting for the day I will have my own house and have it on display. Even, by gifting it to him, in my twisted mind, I was just changing its residence for few months. After all, once we get our happy ending, everything would be ours together. Then, things went haywire and I never thought about it, til today. Which makes me sad and wistful and bit angry. And I really need to yell. Or maybe lose myself in something or someone.
I’m trying to be strong this time. Not give in to the pain. If I can’t manage it, there are always pills to rely on.

Indifference

Another Dreamer — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 00:23:31 +0000

Memories of your touch are fading.
I no longer stare at the ceiling wondering what happened.
Your name doesn’t make me angry anymore.
I do not wear your scent and miss the warmth.

Does it mean that our love was false?
Promises of undying and forever were just a lie.
Or is it that I have finally accepted my fate?
Years of pain and suffering have finally caught up to me.

This indifference scares me.
For I knew nothing, but to love you or hate you.
There’s an emptiness now.
And no touch seems to fill it.

I look around, I wrap myself in stranger’s arms, I just want to feel, Feel the passion again.
As the night draws to close, I lose the struggle and let the emptiness take over.
I really wanted to feel, I try to say.
But all that comes out is a cold breath.

I should hate you for this.
Hate you for this ici-ness.
But sadly, I don’t feel anymore.
neither the love, nor the hate.

After hour sunset

Another Dreamer — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 10:38:27 +0000

She closed the door and fell to the ground, tears streaming from her eyes.
She had thought it would be easy, it wasn’t.
They say it’s easy to be immoral, it’s not.
But why was she so sad?
Was it her own guilt for giving into temptation when she shouldn’t have? Does one feel this empty each time? Does it get easier? How do other people do it?
Do you just pretend nothing happened? Do you pretend to be mature about it and it goes away?

She thought about him. Wondered if he’s thinking of her or if he hates her now? Damn this morality. She could’ve been out shopping right now than to obsess over him.

Finally she got up. Took a shower and called her husband “Yeah. My meeting just got over. See you in 15 minutes”

Little bit of everything

Another Dreamer — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 22:41:07 +0000

Nostalgia.
A feeling I have in abundance these days.
Contempt.
What I feel towards you now.
Love.
Something that always lifts me up.
Indifference.
To the plight of the poor.
Adoration.
The look he gives when I arrive.
Disgust.
Towards the everyday news.

Disasterous Me

Another Dreamer — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 10:14:49 +0000

One of those days where I have a lot to say, a lot to talk about, but just cannot get myself to write anything. If it was a paper journal, my waste paper basket would be full.
I’m being a hypocrite. And I continue to be one. My moral compass says I’m being bad. And I continue on that path. Why? I need people to tell me I’m wrong or tell me I’m right.
I want to sit and talk about life over a cuppa coffee. I want to bitch about my flatmate. I want to giggle at stupid things like innuendos. I want midnight coffee runs. I want midnight ice-cream sessions. All in all, I want my friends here.
I never thought it would be this hard being in a new city, but it is. Turns out it’s easier to date than to make friends. And it’s not like my social calendar is empty. I get out plenty. But it’s all so superficial. Each time I get a call from an old friend, I’m reminded of what I’ve left behind. Each conversation leaves me staring at the phone with tears in my eyes.
Some days all I want to do is have someone hold me and tell me everything’s alright. So I hold myself and do so.

Morning After

Another Dreamer — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 23:59:16 +0000

They sat across each other. Awkward silence. She was twisting her ring nervously. He didn’t know what to say to her. She didn’t either.
“Coffee”, she asked. “Oh yes, Thank you”, he replied.
Both wondering where the laughter from last night has gone. The passion, the urgency.

He looks at her and wonders “Was she really that funny last night?”
She’s thinking on similar lines “I could’ve sworn he looked younger.”

“So, any plans?”
“Yes, brunch with girls.” Relieved to be getting away.
“Nice. Have fun.”, Equally relieved.
They try to hug. More awkwardness. A passionless kiss.

“I’ll see you at mothers then.”
“OK. Don’t forget to pick up the wine.”