Stories of Hope

I know that I am not my illness, although my illness is a part of me.

I spent most of my teenage years feeling out of place and misunderstood. Three years into therapy and multiple diagnosis later, we found the problem - Borderline Personality Disorder. I wept so hard and stayed in bed for days because it seemed like a death sentence. Ironically, living seemed like a death sentence too. I consider myself lucky to have access to good therapists and medication, but the emotional pain I endure feels out of the world sometimes. I feel the weight of recovery on me every time someone points out how much I've changed or how moody and distant I have become. Have I grown to accept the fact that I don't need to fake it all the time, or have I just gotten worse? All these questions cloud my judgement of who I am as a person. The world just seems like a cruel place where I am but a broken piece of some grand puzzle. The inescapable loneliness of it all is indeed overwhelming, but hey! atleast I am not the only one going through this, right?

I know that I am not my illness, although my illness is a part of me. My illness sometimes drags me down like an anchor tied to my legs, but it also lets me soar like a kite and helps me feel so deeply for others. It lets me uplift others the way I want to be, solely because it enables me to feel for them and put myself under their skin. Ever so often, I wonder what it would have been like to be "normal",but then I wonder if I would have ever been as close to this version of me that my people choose to love.

I remember that precise moment when I had lost the fight to myself. I was done. I was done pretending everything was ok. I was done fighting it. I have had many episodes of anxiety attacks in the past but every time I would fall, I would always rise again. I would tell myself it was ok, I would tell myself that it would get better. But this time it was different, I didn't want to do it anymore. I didn't care. I knew what I had to do, I had all the resources, but this time I just didn't have the strength to use them. I would often ask myself, how can I ask for help ? What would people think if being a doctor I couldn't treat myself ?

I remember sitting at the airport alone, sobbing like a baby, trying to hide my tears so no one would notice, and I made a call to one of my best friends who I felt would understand and not judge me.

This was the first time I admitted to someone that I was not okay and I needed help. I remember that moment when despite having everything I always wanted, it felt like I had nothing. I had lost the will & lost the hope. But thankfully, because of my professional background, I knew demotivation & hopelessness were symptoms of mental health disorders.

And this knowledge gave me the strength to differentiate myself from what I was going through & I knew I was not this person. This was the anxiety talking not me. Psychiatry was my passion & later it became my saviour too. Because I knew the facts I acted much faster and recovered.  It has taken me a long time to learn how to prioritise myself over others and how to take care of myself. My life has completely changed for the better. And I can tell you, that it does get better. It took me a lot of strength to write this, but I knew I had to. I hope you find strength too. You are not alone in this.

- Dr. Ruhi Satija ( Psychiatrist & Mental Health Survivor)

Trigger Warning: Suicide & Self Harm

It was back in 2020, just as the first wave of pandemic started subsiding, my life entered a vortex of entropy. Family issues, professional shortcomings and personal botch-ups joined forces to deal one deafening blow after the other. By the time, life was done with its due course of the "Crucio" curse with me, I would wake up every day feeling suicidal and trying to find at least one reason to stay alive.

Things went to a pretty bad extent where I even resorted to self-harm just in the hope that the pain would end. This is exactly when one of my friends suggested that maybe seeking professional help is a better option than just the mindless torment that I was inflicting on myself.

After I sought out professional help, life started taking a turn for the ordinary. I won't say good because from waking up every morning with a strong death wish at the back of my head to at least willing to live, others would consider it ordinary - but for me it was a momentous shift. Slowly and steadily, things started taking a turn for the good.

At the moment, I still suffer, but not to the extent that I did sometime back. I survived. Music and workouts helped massively. Books were my safe space during those nights when I struggled to fall asleep. All I can tell you is that this too shall pass. Maybe at this very moment you won't feel it. Maybe at this very moment, running away seems like the best possible solution, but at the end of it all, this too shall pass. Just hang in there. When everything feels too overwhelming, just take a shower. It may feel like a war, but all these small steps you take - they aren't anything short of fighting a war.

Lots of love to anyone who has survived this and also to the ones who are struggling. Stay strong, you will heal.

Nobody expects medical doctors to never catch a flu. Then why the stigma?

I'm a 21 year old psychology major. I have been going to therapy - on and off - since I was 14. Growing up, I was fortunate to have a mother who believed in the power of therapeutic healing. She sensed I needed external help because of how easily overwhelmed I got. My mental health journey began then, and ever since, I have changed 4 therapists - for different purposes - and have finally found my perfect one now.

I always knew I had clinical anxiety, worrying and over-preparing was how I would cope. It was my way to stay in control - this can happen when your nervous system is constantly in flight-or-fight. I'm also a severe Type A personality, which to the bare eye seemed "damn, she's really well put-together!", but within, it only further made me feel uncomfortable to take even a slightest bit of a break. When I brought this up in therapy, my psychologist said "you find resting difficult because it interrupts your worrying, and resting is unsafe & unfamiliar for you.". The amount of insight therapy has brought me is truly insane. Being in the field myself, it doesn't get any easier. This one time I exhibited vulnerability towards a colleague, I was asked to "go look at my notes". It's like people don't expect budding psychologists to have their own set of issues - and that's messed up. Nobody expects medical doctors to never catch a flu. Then why the stigma? Today, I have a Generalized Anxiety Disorder diagnosis, coupled with my naturally high- functioning self - a challenging combination. But you know what? I'll manage it - and this is not just the control freak in me talking. I'm committed to bettering myself for me and for people around me. I choose to move forward with grace and love. I'm currently preparing to further my clinical studies in the UK. I want to have my own clinic someday, with efficient psycho-education, mental health care and animal therapy! A few years ago, I would never have imagined myself saying this but - I can't wait to see what the future holds for me, and it

is OKAY if it doesn't pan out exactly the way I planned it. Whatever comes my way, I know I'll make the best of it. One step at a time, child <3

Fear is something that outshines our true potential. And it can widely deter our growth and well being. A phone with limited memory stops functioning to the best of its abilities after a while. Similarly, there is a limit to which our mind can incubate what&#39;s happening. And when we run out of space, we can experience a breakdown. How often do we take care of ourselves? Being empathetic by nature, I've always put others before me. Because there is some sheer joy in being the reason for someone's happiness. But as an individual, I realised that if I don&#39;t take care of myself, maybe I won';t be able to help others to the fullest.

Having gotten used to the problems around me, counselling was something that I had kept pushing back for a very long time. Until a friend asked the question, “Did you try counselling?”. I took the initiative of getting an appointment for a session and from that day, I have experienced a better outlook on life. It may sound stupid as people say you are paying someone to listen to your problems, but maybe I have trust issues and this works well for me. Getting a different perspective on living life, if a change is what you desire, it will happen. Nonetheless patience is needed. Fear is something that outshines our true potential. And it can widely deter our growth and well being.

Last year I held a photography exhibition along with some speakers and a zumba session to de-stress and bring awareness to mental health. The exhibition is a portrayal of the various fears and thoughts that weigh us down. And to conclude it .. a ray of hope.

There is so much stigma associated with issues concerning mental health, be it men or women. And I wish to break this by interacting with the people I encounter. Remember, you are not alone :-)

I realized I needed to seek professional help, and I was diagnosed with anxiety and panic attacks. The love and support of my family and my love for creating art encouraged me through those frighteningly dark days.

I remember having this heartburn with my heart racing endlessly. A throbbing pain in my head & neck made me feel oblivious and directionless. I struggled with waking up every morning, doing my daily activities, taking an interest in things and living in the moment. I would often think about this concept from the Adam Sandler movie ‘Click’ where he is on autopilot while his life is passing him by. I felt permanently drowsy & exhausted even after having slept all night and often thought of how I could start over again with a clean slate. I realized I needed to seek professional help, and I was diagnosed with anxiety and panic attacks. The love and support of my family and my love for creating art encouraged me through those frighteningly dark days. From a very early age, having seen my mother & brother suffer from Bipolar disorder, I knew the negative impact mental illness can have on all aspects of one’s life. Through my own journey to recovery from anxiety, I began to understand the stigma and lack of awareness associated with mental illness and felt like I want to do my bit, no matter how tiny, to help spread awareness and maybe help someone else out there find hope.

My experience of working through anxiety & panic attacks has taught me so much. It made me realize that the only thing that was really going to help was changing the way I was letting my mind think. I had to stop letting it remain stuck, over-analyzing and over-thinking things that I could not control and served no purpose. Instead, my mind had to be engaged in something else, something that would excite me. Making art. It also taught me to always be patient, to know that it’s okay to be going through it and that there are others going through the same thing so you’re not alone. And most importantly, that ‘This too shall pass’ and there’s hope for everyone. I look forward to spreading awareness about how with our powerful minds, what we sow through our thoughts IS what we reap.

My recovery journey highlights how the right support can accelerate an individual’s ability to build resilience and motivation to recover and lead a fulfilling life.

I grew up routinely with feelings of emptiness, worthlessness, and a desire to end my life. I had a challenging relationship with my parents in the first 10 years of my life. My father struggled with depression and my mother managed the family business during that time. As a result, I struggled with the feeling that I had absent parents who did not love me. In my early teens, I was also sexually abused, an incident I could not speak about until I was much older. When I was 15 years old, I had a mental breakdown. I fainted in class during an exam. Following this, health investigations didn’t reveal any physical ailments, and so when I was taken to a psychiatrist, they diagnosed dissociative disorder. I was admitted for treatment twice. The first time I refused to cooperate, but the second time I was admitted for treatment. I began to faint often, suffered memory loss and the inability to recognize my parents; I behaved like a "child", with the feeling that I had regressed into my childhood. During the second stay at hospital, I struggled with severe suicidal thoughts and feelings of everything coming to an end, but after treatment, I left with real motivation to overcome my illness, and was able to see the value of having my life.

At the same time, some of the circumstances I endured as a result of struggling with mental illness are profoundly sad. I was unable to really attend school in grades 11 and 12 and was largely home schooled. This is because even though my school’s authorities were caring and understanding, trying to help me, most of my peers bullied, excluded and made fun of me. Society would talk about me and my situation in a in a derogatory way, saying, I'm mad.

I attended counselling, took my medications, and started to recover. The most difficult time in my journey with mental illness was facing the stigma I experienced because of my illness. My recovery journey highlights how the right support can accelerate an individual’s ability to build resilience and motivation to recover and lead a fulfilling life.

Over time, I overcame that period with a lot of difficulty and pain and feel grateful to be alive. When I came into this country 14 years ago leaving my family & friends of 25 years - 8000 miles behind, to live the "American Dream" with my love (married my partner) and enrolled in school for a master's degree, not everything spanned out the way it should have. I was suicidal, had a hard time controlling my impulses, and could not hide my anxiety; tears rolled down at my spouse's slightest comment. I failed to figure out what was happening; there was no dearth of anything, my husband was not abusive, but at the same time, we were opposites. I was busy, committed to my studies, and home.

I figured out, though I was doing everything I wanted to do (US life, new friends, marriage, going places), I was not happy. My mind would always go back to India and remind me of my family and friends and the life I so badly wanted to go back to. It felt like there was no way out of here; the feeling was being trapped in a cage with no key and never being able to see my near and dear ones again. I broke down every time I spoke with my parents, but I could not echo the severity of the crisis my mind was going through.

The sad part was there was no one with whom I could share my experience. I had some friends here (from school) but didn't feel like they would be sensitive to my feelings. I had no one to reach out to for help.

Over time, I overcame that period with a lot of difficulty and pain and feel grateful to be alive, and 14 years down, depression is an ongoing process that gets triggered at levels based on events happening in my life. I try to keep myself busy working in analytics for a pharmaceutical company and I play golf for fun. Mental pain does not discriminate based on an individual's socioeconomic status. It impacts all "equally."

I was in std. IX when my dad was Transfered to Sambalpur. 

I had recently lost my best friend, one of the most trusted people of my life. I was in need of a support. Everything was new to me. And eventually, I made a huge blunder in choosing friends, probably the biggest mistake of my life. They misused my innocence and love what I had for them as persons and exposed me to addictions. Thankfully I wasn't taken into it. One of them became a very close friend of mine just to come close to and eventually  propose a girl who was my close friend. Again I was used. All of this distraction led my grades to detoriate. And all of a sudden I lost my maternal grandma, who was my very first inspiration. These heartbreaks and trust issues led me into Depression until a guy came to my rescue. He pushed me forward in every way he could. And helped me secure 92% in IX. But I didn't recover completely. I wasn't emotionally stable at all. Then another guy joined the school and unknowingly became very close. I was inspired by him. I saw a different perception of life. His personality was very like my grandma's. And without the knowledge of both me and himself, he made me emotionally strong and taught me self worth and confidence, which I lacked during that phase. These two guys played a huge role in my recovery and because of them I'm alive. There were times when I thought of jumping off the terrace of our 8 storeyed building, cutting my veins,etc. But Everytime I was stopped by the visuals of my mom, my grandma, and them. The second guy insisted me to continue with my sports and music, which I had almost left during the phase ( I'm a state level Badminton player and swimmer and I'm classically trained in vocal and sitar). Yes indeed. Coming back into sports helped me a lot recovering. The key point to fight depression is to accept. Confidence automatically vanishes. But acceptance makes the task easier to get it back and right.