fbpx

Spreading Goodness

Pick your best read on internet today

depression

Please, don’t do this. Please. 

You are not alone. Please. We love you.

I went through the same two years back. I am happy that I share this with you now. 

Don’t be crazy. You’ll be fine. 

There’s nothing you can’t fix. So. Please.

Where are you, let any of us come to you. 

Don’t do this, please. 

Please, listen to us first. We love you. 

My head turns upside down as hundreds of messages like these pop up in the comment section. I am shocked. Literally. I mean, is this real? 

Comments are only increasing. People display their love for me. They sound worried about me. I mean, is this real?

Do they really love me? Do they really care for me? Do they want me to stay alive? Do they want me to have a good life? 

I am loaded with dozens of questions and this feeling is totally new for me. 

I hit the ‘finish’ button and Facebook live streaming ends. I let out a long sigh of mixed feelings.

All those comments still swirl across my head. I don’t know how to react. What to do. I want to first thank them. Each one of them. I want to see all of them as I pay my gratitude. But I deleted everything. Uh-oh!

This takes me back. Where it all started. 

I had a terrible childhood. 

As far as I am able to recall, it was traumatic. My parents did their best to provide me and my siblings with a fulfilling life. They sent us to a popular school. Served us great food. 

They loved us. But… 

They hardly loved each other. Their frustration over life would spill from their face and spread across the house. A smell of resentment would grip all of us all the time. Every alternate day, there would be a scene in the living room that would swell out heartbeats. 

But superficially, everything was alright. Our family had a valued reputation. We all looked like we’re having a wonderful life. 

But those who were a part of this sad story knew how hard the reality was. 

I am here again. In front of my laptop. But I look better. Strange. I just recalled my childhood. The phase of life that offered me depression as a life-long gift. 

But I find myself better now. It’s strange. But it’s a good feeling.

I go back to my teenage years. Father took care of the family’s finances. But the rest of all was handled by my mother. Dealing with father’s multiple affairs, taking care of three children, holding the responsibility of a micro-enterprise, coping with her own fluctuating health… My mother had a lot to do. Each day. Her physical and mental struggle was clearly visible. And we siblings could do nothing. Mom never shared anything with us. Never. We were ignorant. Everything we realized about her was only when we left home. 

I always blamed my mother for not providing me mental and emotional nourishment. I feel pity for her now because back in those days, I never realized her helplessness. She did her best for all of us but always lived in a void. She didn’t find any reason to be happy. Maybe she didn’t want to discover it. Most of the evenings, she would cry. Tears that rolled out on her cheeks burned me a lot.

When I reached 22, I moved out of the house following a fight with mom. 

I slept in my friends’ houses one after the other for some time. Though I didn’t have close friends. Maybe I was not good enough to make good friends. I worked in cafes, restaurants. I tried to get myself a comfortable life and did whatever the situation demanded. I was doing everything on my own. I was not burdened for anyone anymore.  

But life never looked good. I would get angry, worried, scared, frustrated at minor things. I was highly skeptical. I was easily offended. I was a worrywart. People didn’t like me. I didn’t like people. 

I tried but I failed to stay in a relationship. I found myself as the most unfortunate person God ever created. I cursed myself. I cursed my life. I cursed my family. I cursed God. 

For the last one year I was losing interest in life. I had no motivation to wake up every morning. I was tired of drowning myself in alcohol and smoke. I did drugs but am not addicted to it. 

Months of dilemma and distress took me to a stage where I started feeling this life literally is becoming a burden. 

One day I googled – ways to commit suicide. Ignoring suicide prevention lifelines, I checked several news and articles that reported suicidal instances. 

I decided to hang myself in my bedroom. For once, I remembered my mother and siblings but it was already a couple of years I was not talking to any of them. I wanted to share something before I bid goodbye to this life. I decided to go live on Facebook. 

I sat on the chair in my bedroom, placed laptop on the table. I opened Facebook and hit Go Live. 

It was just a few seconds that I started speaking. All I wanted to say was – Hi, guys! I have been in severe agony all my life and I don’t want to live anymore.

That was when the post spread like wildfire.

I sigh again. Feels like my body puts off a massive burden. I am so light. I feel good. All those people’s comments still roll in front of my eyes. 

Shit! Why did I delete them all? It was hundreds, it would have reached thousands. They genuinely sent me love and blessings. I am taken care of. I am valued. 

I reach the water bottle and drain it. I give a quick glance to a long piece of cloth attached to ceiling fan. I had cut out sleeves of my shirts to give it a shape of rope.

I open Facebook again and go to my inbox. Oh! This shocks me again. Dozens of new messages. I scroll and scroll and scroll. I randomly open one. It reads:

Hi, I hope you are reading this. I love you, that’s why I am writing this to you. I just want you to know that your presence matters to someone. I am so sorry that life did not treat you well. We can fix it together. Let me know if you want to talk about it. Lots of love and hugs…

OMG! What did I just read? Is this real? I don’t believe it. I read it again. 

Hi, I hope you are reading this. I love you, that’s why I am writing this to you. I just want you to know that your presence matters to someone. I am so sorry life did not treat you well. We can fix it together. Let me know if you want to talk about it. Lots of love and hugs…

For the first time in years, literally in years I see good words for me. This is so adorable. I feel good to be loved. I want to be loved. I want to love. I need more of it. 

With a wide smile, I reply back:

Hi, thank you for this message. Let’s talk about it

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *