Learning self-care through the many ups and downs in life

 Learning self-care through the many ups and downs in life

During a chat with an old  acquaintance, I inadvertently revealed that I am regulary seeing a therapist. The reaction to such news was overwhelmingly positive. It began with a bombardment of issues related my health and the causes of my mental disorder.  And then it transformed into an unplanned game of agony Olympics, in which I was forced to fight against my own thoughts. My problems and fears were dismissed as something I made up, and terrible life events were weighed on a scale of one to ten.

I was a youngster alone in this world with only one wish: to be liked and admired. So I often made an additional effort to appear as classy as possible. That I was performing exactly what all the cool youngsters on Television shows were doing: smiling, paying attention at my appearance, and being appealing. And exceeding everyone's standards of me by winning debate tournaments and maintaining flawless marks. If perfection were a sickness, I would be constantly unwell. Perfectionism is an intense sport, and every setback brings you to tears. And my mum would still advise me not to cry at such instances.

Never was I consoled while sobbing; all I heard was a continuous voice urging me to quit moaning. That made  me realise how much people dislike unhappy individuals. That grief comes in small doses and for suitable reasons. That emotion should be held for a  short period of time and then moved on, never to be saddened again because of it. One essential lesson I took away from all of this was how to disguise my enormous melancholy. I had an odd connection with sadness. It will appear at the most inconvenient times, leaving me devastated and dejected. I never understood how to cope with it.

The first time I asked my mother to take me to a therapist I was 15, she yelled at me, horrified that I would even dare to ask for such a crazy thing. When her anger subsided, she came by my side and gently told me “this therapy thing is for crazy people Kaushkey and you are not crazy. Everything is fine, why would you possibly need such a thing for”. The ending statement of that conversation was how therapy is a western hoax. That was the beginning of my mother’s obsession of turning me into a religious girl. “God can solve everything child, put faith in him”. 

Although though I was convinced that I required assistance, I was still wary of allowing anyone to assist me. I was terrified of the concerns they might raise and the decisions they will make. I was afraid of being reminded of the same stuff that everyone else had been feeding me: "it's all in your brain," "you're being theatrical," "you're not sad, just lethargic."

I was scared to my core that all these things that people have been saying about me would turn out to be true. For three years of my life, I had existed in this weird dilemma that If I show my symptoms then I was being a burden and If I don’t show them then I was faking it. And at that time living in that confused limbo looked so much better than getting help and ripping off the Band-aid. Eventually, I ceded and ripped the Band-Aid off.

In my 2 years in counseling, I've learned that talking about my challenges and concerns really helps me untangle them. That dumping on or disregarding our issues and anguish is not how we should conduct our lives. It taught me that, while hardship is a component of living, living should not be a component of your never-ending pain. Many individuals believe that treatment is just for persons who are insane, intellectually retarded, or physically handicapped. Those who see a "therapist" are sick, screwed up, or irreversibly ruined. This is the most wrong assumption of people who go to therapy. 

Processing and making peace with our trauma and improving our mental health is one of the most rewarding investments we can make. We all applaud people for spending hours toning and shaping their bodies. We never judge anyone for going to the doctors to get a physical diagnosis or taking medicines for diabetes or asthma. Then why shame people for keeping their mind in shape, or going to a therapist or a psychiatrist or for taking anti-depressants and other medicines? Why not see and acknowledge mental illness as a real disease and not a bad thought process or attitude? Why make people feel weird about taking care of their minds?

Our minds are the most valuable aspect of ourselves. It is where we genuinely dwell; it is the source of all our ideas, feelings, decisions, talents, all that we've ever imagined or felt. Keeping that priceless part of oneself is priceless. I'd like to live in a society where individuals are not ridiculed for getting help for mental ill health. I can't tell you how much counseling has benefited me. It has allowed me to recognize all of the aspects of myself that I previously felt were best kept hidden. It was a companion to me when I didn't have any. A buddy through adversity and grief. It helped me see how colourful life is and how it seemed so dreary and grey.

I had to realise that it isn't a 'forgive and forget' process, but rather one of increasing my strength to cope with it all on my own. It is a mental reset and a healthy indulgence in self-care. It's such a pleasure to go around this globe with a clear mind on my shoulders. It's a wonderful experience to be healthy and joyful.

Have a look on the following

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4vaTLsypExk&t=3s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sxyqLNwqKzM&t=16s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dtWWEhUUfuc