I wake up each day, thinking this time it would be different
That this time, for once, I wouldn’t have my mid-week meltdown
That I wouldn’t call in sick when really, it’s my mind that’s ailing
That it isn’t the flu, it’s my anxiety
That this is not a disease, but a disorder
Which orders me into this cycle of hiding, fighting and failing
Falling flat on my face and dignity
On the pillow, muffling my sobs
Each time I stay in, give in and sleep it off
A guest post.
Pull Quotes: "The key to understanding emotional abuse therefore, lies in checking the extent of negative impact a person has on one’s psyche."
A guest post.
We are born into stories. Since time immemorial and the days around the campfire, we have been telling stories. Some stories we carry with us about who we are and what is important for us and we build connections by re-telling these stories. This journal is a canvas for documenting these life stories. It offers you a space to jot down or doodle those small things that get you happy, content, and joyful. And yes, it may be from any story of your life or something that you saw or felt. It can be as vivid as reliving a childhood memory, rewinding your favourite playlist, scrawling words that you hold close or even illustrating secret maps to your hidden wafer packets.
A guest post.
Before you start reading this, I want you to take a pen and paper and answer this - What does ‘home’ mean to you? Hold on to this question because this will remain the central point of this post.
A guest post.
Over the past year, I was working with women situationed in a fragile, perilous situation, one that people without privilege so often find themselves in. This was in a therapeutic context, & the first thing to hit me when I went in there, was that their ’needs’ could not be more removed from the so-called domain of mental health. This was a systemic issue, a societal failure, one that required patriarchy to be addressed and policies to be changed.
Picture of the lake ! 🙂
My last session for 2018 was by this lake at Sanjay Gandhi National Park. She and I spent two hours under a magnificent tree, occasionally squinting with the sun in our eyes, but also thankful for its warmth that muted the chilly breeze just enough to create that rare, perfect weather day. We had conversations about guavas, relationships, “life ke syaapey” and what “selfish” really means.
