Everything seems normal on the surface. Brushed teeth, a clean face, braided hair and moisturised lips...
MENTAL HEALTH
By Selini
Everything seems normal on the surface. Brushed teeth, a clean face, braided hair and moisturised lips. A perfect clean-girl aesthetic. Waking up, having breakfast, making your bed, doing household chores, working on pending tasks, cooking food, eating healthy, cracking jokes and reading books. A perfect, peaceful life.
Such a beautiful sight, isn’t it? Almost like living on an island, breathing in fresh air and playing on the beach. Almost ethereal.
But it creeps in slowly. Those five minutes after waking up when you lie numb, unable to move your body, then force yourself out of bed, feeling as though a weight twice your size is lying on you. You stand up, breathing heavily, dragging yourself to the bathroom.
To the tea that tastes bitter, while your stomach is already filled with rage.
To the moment when you force yourself to make your bed, hoping it will give your life some direction, almost as if life is hidden beneath those sheets and you can grasp it in an instant.
To the uncontrollable, strangling hands that choke you as you move from one room to another. You stop midway, turn to face a wall and take deep breaths, hoping nobody notices, because you would have no answers to the pouring questions.
To reading the same line thirty times in the hope that you can focus, imagining the result and almost believing in it, until you look around and the walls start closing in and you want to run away, somewhere far, where the air does not feel heavy.
To cutting vegetables, forcing yourself not to cut yourself, because self-harm feels like nothing but an escape.
To eating healthy in the hope that it will lower the noise in your head and reduce the numbness in your legs, as it feels impossible to stand while you remain in front of the basin, almost crooked, clutching your chest.
To hollow laughter that gives no rush of serotonin, only the persona of “there is nothing wrong with me”. Then, one day, after months, you laugh at something genuinely. You feel it in your body and stop midway, wondering how long it has been since you laughed like this. It shifts from counting days since you last cried to counting months since you last laughed.
To reading books in the hope of escape, so you do not have to face reality, even if only momentarily.
When happiness feels like a distant dream, sadness feels like home, something familiar.
This is a reminder that depression does not wear the cloak of Severus Snape. Sometimes, it exists in the lives of the happiest-looking people. It is a constant struggle until you break free from the cycle. It is hard, almost heart-wrenching, but survival is the happy ending.
