My Mom’s fight with Cancer pushed me into Depression

I was 2 years old when my mother was diagnosed with cancer. I had to assume the role of a caregiver although I was still a young child. I had to accustom myself to all the challenges that came along with cancer – attending to midnight emergencies, the side effects of chemotherapy & radiation and the slow organ failure. All this while I was in school, college and when I entered my workplace.

I had my episodes of depression in the entire course but I distracted myself with studies and hobbies and went on with my life. I didn’t realize I was just bottling up my feelings. I would often tell myself that it was physical and mental fatigue and as such no big deal.

And then the unfortunate happened.

After battling cancer for 21 years my mother died a slow and painful death. In my heart, I knew that this is going to happen sooner or later and in my head, I had envisioned the same a thousand times.  But when it eventually happened I was just shattered into million pieces.

In an instant, I lost all the purpose in life. I would sleep for 14/15 hours a day, and on waking up would just stare at the ceiling wondering why I should get out of the bed. My productivity shrunk. In the office, I would just stare at the computer screen for hours. Every once in a while, the thought would hit me that I would never be able to hear my mother’s voice or feel her touch again. And it was just crippling me more and more.

I was living alone during that time. I became all the more distant to my friends and colleagues. I would dismiss anyone who tried to come closer to me. And it wasn’t very long when I began to have audio/video hallucinations.

My own shadow would scare me. I would often play loud music to shun the voices playing in my head. It took me more than 6/8 months to feel safe in my own house.

This continued for a year and a half but my condition didn’t change much. It was mild in the beginning but gained momentum and soon I had started developing an urge to physically hurt myself to stop feeling anything.  

One day at around 4 a.m. in the morning I found myself holding a kitchen knife ready to slit my wrist. When this happened I realized that I desperately needed help. Cutting myself off and cocooning my own self was not helping me. I was lost and had no clue where to head, who to ask help for, and who to talk to.

Most people had also stepped back since they wanted to give me my own space. One friend though who had experienced a similar trauma practically saved me. Her assuring talks helped me be back on track. I started opening up again and began enjoying meeting new people!

I still get those episodes of depression time and again but after a year I have finally found a purpose for myself out of the bed. There is a permanent vacuum created in my life which can never be filled but it doesn’t feel so heavy to pull me down.

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_{Credits: Youth Ki Awaaz}