This is not a story. It is a narration of an experience. Something that will forever stay fresh in my memory. Whether that is good or bad, is a question, I still ask. Nonetheless, we’ll just go along with the flow, and enjoy the experience, shall we? In the end, that is all that matters.
Imagine waking up to find yourself staring at the wall, losing track of time, not knowing how long you were doing that. That was the first time, I experienced something that was strange enough to freak me out. I convinced myself that it was just a dream, but it wasn’t. It happened again over the next several days. Afraid that someone might ridicule me if they heard this, I remained silent and continued to ignore the situation.
As days passed, things got worse. I had an imaginary friend whose sole motive, I thought, was to kill me. And for what reason, I still don't know. There were days when I woke up, choking, frantically gasping for my breath. Scared to close my eyes, I used to stay awake for long hours, sometimes even days. I still never wanted to speak to anyone about it; instead convinced myself that it was just a dream.
But then came a point, when I couldn't think of it as a dream anymore. As a means of distracting myself from all the weirdness happening around me, I started physically hurting myself. Watching blood flow from my wounds calmed me down. My anxiety levels were always at its highest and again for absolutely no reason. Each time I lay my head on the pillow, it was damp. Crying was my favorite hobby, it gave me relief from the things I couldn't understand. I felt disconnected from the world, lived like a zombie for days not knowing that part of me was becoming another person with zero social life. I followed a routine: Wake up. Go to college. Attend classes. Finish assignments. Sleep. Repeat. And I wasn't willing to break that circle at any cost.
Everyday something new came up, making the situation even worse than it already is. My imaginary friend would stand by the entrance, staring at me with her killer looks (like literally!); making it impossible for me to move out to go to class. And then suddenly, I have voices in my head taking control of my movements. Too confused at what was happening, and a million questions on my mind. I decided to ignore again. Worst. Decision. Ever! Why? Because I almost got hit by a bus, took the wrong route and ended up in an unknown place all because the voices in my head took over! My reality breaks amidst all this helped me find my way back but it still did not end.
It is exhausting when you have to constantly try to pretend like everything is okay but deep inside you know it is killing you. And each time it hits you, a piece of you goes away and settles itself into a bubble; until one day you find all of yourself stuck inside that bubble not knowing how to come out of it. I tried talking to people, some close friends, family. Nothing helped because every time someone asked me "Why do you feel this way?", I had no answer. Each time they tried consoling me when I got upset or anxious, I felt more disconnected with the real world - dazed, unhappy, teary eyed, emotionless and lost. Perhaps even they never realized that I was looking for answers too.
Eventually, the bubble bursts. But the wait is what kills you. The urge to end my life kept getting stronger as days passed by and it came to a point when it scared me so much, I had to beg for help. I flew back home and met a psychiatrist who patiently listened without any judgement at all. The first session of my therapy lasted an hour, and in that one hour, he just spoke one sentence, "Tell me what's on your mind". The rest of the time, I was talking, explaining every single thing that was on my mind. He then spoke to me and gave me answers to the question that everyone had been asking me, "Why do you feel this way?". I understood every word of what he said and I felt hopeful of getting back to my normal self.
During the first week of therapy, my sleep pattern improved, my fear and anxiety reduced, the voices in my head faded away and my invisible friend din't exist anymore. But I still felt empty and desperate to get back to my old self. At this point, Doc was the only person I trusted. He advised me to give it time and so I did.
As weeks passed, I started feeling better, like I was normal again but never the old person that I was and perhaps I never will be. But I felt liberated and happy. The best part of this experience was when the bubble burst. The rush of happiness you get to feel is immeasurable and it will bring out the best in you. But you will also have learnt to not take anything for granted ever again.
The little things in life are what matters the most and maybe I haven't been able to fully capture everything that I had been through and maybe I haven't been through the worst after all. But the experience has definitely made me a better person, much stronger and empathetic. There are people out there who are looking for answers just like I did once. I just wish they know that their story isn't over yet. As they say, some things are better left unsaid;