Ayesha Javed
Stories (29/0)
My Great Escape
When the burden of the conversation became too great, I quickly made the necessary excuses and ended the call, allowed the tears to dampen my face—and it seems my spirit—for only a moment longer after that. The darkness of the night blanketed me in more ways than one. I was in a foreign country where I didn't speak the native language, with foreign people who didn’t understand me much. That thought was acceptable to me though. That’s been mostly the tune of the song that is my life. This is exactly why I was here all by my lonesome on one of the Thousand Islands. It was small enough for me to walk its perimeter in a couple of hours. There was a beautiful feeling in that realisation. It was only the beginning of an illustrious rap sheet of mental health (I use the phrase sarcastically of course). The depression had already started and the social contracts that dictated normalcy were becoming harder with each passing day. I put the phone where I couldn’t hear it any longer, took my shoes off, and started walking the length of the beach.
By Ayesha Javed6 years ago in Psyche
Depression and Dissociation; A Story of a Cruel Coalition
We’ve all heard the sayings, the motivational quotes, the words that guide you to look at the positive. Time is a magnificent creature, they tell me, and in its passing, you may heal. What if you no longer possessed the power to look at the glass half full; Susie! your own mind is working against you. Neither does it give you enough serotonin nor the strength to overcome the replenishment of the very resource. What if your mind made you forget what it's like to feel joy? True joy, not the high you feel from a fake laugh or dancing in the dark. What if it made you forget you ever experienced the feeling too? Like it turned the pictures of all the memories you stored in your heart to black and white. So you see the young version of yourself laughing as your dad tickles you utnil you cry but you no longer remember how that must have felt like. Oh! How the weary find their way to worsen the state they are in, without intention or action. What if the weight of each day became too great? Your lungs couldn’t even handle the weight that dispersed to your chest from your shoulders. Blame the mind that’s been placed upon the two, if you may. Every breath became a conscious effort. To have to think and schedule every inhale and exhale, now that’s what I call true exhaustion. Did your legs too ever stake claim to your burdens and lose the will to carry your body? It seems like you’ll have to learn how to walk again. My words, you read, but do you feel my pain. Do you feel it yet?
By Ayesha Javed6 years ago in Psyche