I’m not sure if what I'm about to write is _read-worthy_. I can think of people who might argue that that anything that someone thinks up and records in text is worth reading but I haven’t come across one yet.
I am writing now because I haven't in a while and I have been meaning to. I write for the sake of writing more than to make a point. What I write tends to end up on my blog because that is how it had always been.
I used to do this with intent a few years ago. I believe that what I think up and record in text should be recorded somewhere where someone might find it at some point and think, ‘Wow, people did take themselves too seriously.’
My therapist thinks that I should write more often, probably because I tell her that it's therapeutic. Many think that the world is at its selfish worst, and that people do things to make themselves better. Going by that logic, my therapist shouldn't be advising me about how to get better without her getting paid.
Yet she does. So does my shrink. Both seem measured, level-headed, well-intending people trying to do their jobs. They earn money in return of taking care of others with psychological troubles. I was supposed to do the same in a more physical manner, but I instead decided to pursue my artistic/creative side twelve years ago.
I write because I feel good when I do. To be more precise, I feel better _after_ I finish writing. I feel like I have accomplished something. Everyone is trying to accomplish something or the other, which involves keeping themselves busy and labelling themselves productive.
I like to think that I’m being busy and productive. When I started typing this, I had two content streams assaulting me. A live cricket match on the TV and a on-demand mixed martial arts event on a screen above the one that I’m typing into.
I was hardly paying any attention to the cricket match, mostly because I could rewind it if I realised that I missed seeing something exciting. Mixed martial arts is the perfect blend of athletic artistry and primeval violence, and the event I was streaming was something that I had wanted to watch.
It was difficult to focus on what I wanted to write or whether I wanted to write at all. It would have been either writing or reading, but writing is what I felt like I haven’t done enough.
So I continued writing. It's a pretty easy way to feel as if you have done something worthwhile without caring about the actual worth of the thing you did or the time you spent doing it.
I have anxiety probably because I do many things at at time. Yet I am forced to because I feel like I haven't done enough. The cause is the effect is the cause.
I feel the need for people to tell me that I did well. My life feels like a constant battle to prove to everyone that I’m worth existing. I guess I’m chasing my own legacy.
Legacy is something that gets built over the course of someone’s life without them having a say in whether they want one. The foundation is laid before you know what it is. Then you spend the rest of your life building on it in an effort to save yourself the embarrassment of leaving it unfinished.
Foundations left unattended eventually become pretty when the elements take over, but the people who tried but failed to build on them won’t live long enough to see the cosmetic makeover of the thing that symbolizes their failures.
Showing posts sorted by date for query shrink. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by date for query shrink. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Writing About Writing
Initiating conversations about depression
For some reason, I know and/or am close to a lot of people who have known psychological issues, especially depression. For example, Vinokur, my first ex-boyfriend has a plethora of neuroses, including Type II Bipolar Disorder. My second ex-boyfriend Joe has depression, but is still in the closet. My present boyfriend J has been diagnosed with depression and is supposed to be on therapy for it, but is not the most compliant patient.
My sister has symptoms similar to me, but is not willing to take treatment. My dad and mom too have a variety of symptoms. Several of my close friends have depression and they are friends with me because they can freely and openly have conversations with me. Conversations both about depression and otherwise. I tend to empathize with them and don't force them to do things that they are not comfortable with.
So why am I ranting about it? To spread awareness about it, actually, and to share my learning experiences. About my point...
Although being perpetually distracted is a known symptom of depression, it is something that people don't notice too often. Maybe they do, but they don't attribute it to depression. I think it goes hand in hand with the fact that you don't want to seek help to treat it and that you don't want things to change. Plus, of course, if you are like me, you are likely thinking you deserve to be punished for being such a bad person.
I noticed recently that most of the time that I have known J, when I initiate conversations about some chores/tasks that we need to collaborate on to finish, he seems distracted and preoccupied with something else. He behaves like a little school kid being forced to listen to a lecture that he/she is not interested in. I used to think of this a rude, unkind, inconsiderate behavior.
Two nights back, I was at my apartment, feeling nice and refreshed after a relaxing session of EMDR. I am usually hesitant to initiate conversations. But I felt great about myself and I decided to call J on Skype. The conversation started smoothly. J was happy that I called and was playful and clowning around as usual. However, I had to initiate some serious conversation about his health and the things that we need to get done for his birthday party this weekend.
As soon as I did, however, he seemed to zone out. He started picking up things from his desk and shelves and examining them and rearranging them. He was listening to my monologue all throughout. When his turn to respond came up, he did not have much to say. This slowly built up to a point when I waited for a full minute for a response. Of course, I didn't get any.
I decided that it was time to let him know what I thought. And I did. He didn't receive it well. The conversation was awkward and he hung up unceremoniously. This was not uncharacteristic of J and the conversations that we have.
I closed Skype and started working on one of the tracks I was working on, and got lost in it. In about half hour's time, I got a call from J on Skype. This time he acknowledged that he realizes that he has been distracted and he wants to snap out of it. As usual, I suggested that he get an appointment with his shrink about it.
As a concluding note, I feel that I did something good. At the very least, I think I was successful in reinitiating the process of recuperation.
My sister has symptoms similar to me, but is not willing to take treatment. My dad and mom too have a variety of symptoms. Several of my close friends have depression and they are friends with me because they can freely and openly have conversations with me. Conversations both about depression and otherwise. I tend to empathize with them and don't force them to do things that they are not comfortable with.
So why am I ranting about it? To spread awareness about it, actually, and to share my learning experiences. About my point...
Although being perpetually distracted is a known symptom of depression, it is something that people don't notice too often. Maybe they do, but they don't attribute it to depression. I think it goes hand in hand with the fact that you don't want to seek help to treat it and that you don't want things to change. Plus, of course, if you are like me, you are likely thinking you deserve to be punished for being such a bad person.
I noticed recently that most of the time that I have known J, when I initiate conversations about some chores/tasks that we need to collaborate on to finish, he seems distracted and preoccupied with something else. He behaves like a little school kid being forced to listen to a lecture that he/she is not interested in. I used to think of this a rude, unkind, inconsiderate behavior.
Two nights back, I was at my apartment, feeling nice and refreshed after a relaxing session of EMDR. I am usually hesitant to initiate conversations. But I felt great about myself and I decided to call J on Skype. The conversation started smoothly. J was happy that I called and was playful and clowning around as usual. However, I had to initiate some serious conversation about his health and the things that we need to get done for his birthday party this weekend.
As soon as I did, however, he seemed to zone out. He started picking up things from his desk and shelves and examining them and rearranging them. He was listening to my monologue all throughout. When his turn to respond came up, he did not have much to say. This slowly built up to a point when I waited for a full minute for a response. Of course, I didn't get any.
I decided that it was time to let him know what I thought. And I did. He didn't receive it well. The conversation was awkward and he hung up unceremoniously. This was not uncharacteristic of J and the conversations that we have.
I closed Skype and started working on one of the tracks I was working on, and got lost in it. In about half hour's time, I got a call from J on Skype. This time he acknowledged that he realizes that he has been distracted and he wants to snap out of it. As usual, I suggested that he get an appointment with his shrink about it.
As a concluding note, I feel that I did something good. At the very least, I think I was successful in reinitiating the process of recuperation.
What I'm going through to get better
I'm sure that among my readers, there are at least a few who have battled depression. What it does to you is sometimes devastating. You simply forget how to live they way you used to live and forget how to love what you used to love. It's incapacitating. I still remember that only a few years before, I was interested in going out to a movie and eating out and simply having fun. Two years back, I was absolutely in love with traveling and look forwarded to go to new places and have exotic experiences. The list goes on and on.
After being on a relatively ineffective pharmacotherapy cocktail for approximately two years, I consulted my present shrink, who switched to the present the pharmacotherapy cocktail (below) and guided me to talk/behavioral therapy. During the course of psychological testing, I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder (MDD), anxiety disorder, stress disorder most probably as an effect of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) due to childhood trauma. Yes, it sounds like a lot. Hence, along with the medications, I have started an efficacious, albeit debated, psychotherapy method called eye movement desensitization and reprocessing for PTSD.
As pharmacotherapy for depression, I'm on the following cocktail:
As part of pscyhotherapy, I have undergone/am undergoing the following:
An important point to note is that the bullet about reading and learning about depression, PTSD, and cognition in general need not be limited to who are suffering from depression or PTSD. I would recommend this as a useful exercise to just get accustomed to the concepts and the phenomena underlying these conditions. Especially, those who are close to those who are the sufferers.
In the last few weeks, I have recommended these the first two books to several people and I have gotten very positive responses regarding the same. I hope that I can get my family (my sister and my mother at least) to read these books.
If you are reading this and if you know someone who shows signs of these conditions, please encourage the to seek help and/or read these books.
*I was diagnosed with Vitamin D deficiency a couple of years back.
After being on a relatively ineffective pharmacotherapy cocktail for approximately two years, I consulted my present shrink, who switched to the present the pharmacotherapy cocktail (below) and guided me to talk/behavioral therapy. During the course of psychological testing, I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder (MDD), anxiety disorder, stress disorder most probably as an effect of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) due to childhood trauma. Yes, it sounds like a lot. Hence, along with the medications, I have started an efficacious, albeit debated, psychotherapy method called eye movement desensitization and reprocessing for PTSD.
As pharmacotherapy for depression, I'm on the following cocktail:
- low-dose amitryptiline (a classical tricyclic antidepressant)
- medium-dose bupropion (an atypical antidpressant mood stabilizer)
- low-dose clonazepam (an antianxiety agent)
- low-dose haloperidol (an antipsychotic agent)
As part of pscyhotherapy, I have undergone/am undergoing the following:
- cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT)
- eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR)
- reading and learning about depression, PTSD, and cognition in general
An important point to note is that the bullet about reading and learning about depression, PTSD, and cognition in general need not be limited to who are suffering from depression or PTSD. I would recommend this as a useful exercise to just get accustomed to the concepts and the phenomena underlying these conditions. Especially, those who are close to those who are the sufferers.
In the last few weeks, I have recommended these the first two books to several people and I have gotten very positive responses regarding the same. I hope that I can get my family (my sister and my mother at least) to read these books.
If you are reading this and if you know someone who shows signs of these conditions, please encourage the to seek help and/or read these books.
*I was diagnosed with Vitamin D deficiency a couple of years back.
How it all went wrong today
Today has been a bad day. It started off well. I woke up early enough, made coffee, had a quick shower, and headed to the office. Although it was dull and murky, it wasn't raining on my rickshaw ride to work. I had the usual roadside idli breakfast and reached work just before my reporting time. The first hour went really well, when I thought I did well to finish the work on an assignment. Then it all started to go wrong.
First it was the constant barrage of interruptions. Junior editors asking me doubts, the project managers constantly shuffling and changing work, people randomly coming up and stopping by, work-related e-mail and instant messages on your computers. I know multitasking is not efficient, but how the hell do you ask people to stop interrupting you? One could argue that being interrupted is a given in a work environment similar to mine, but I don't think that still doesn't explain why people don't think of ways to establish guidelines to streamline all of this.
And then the personal life interruptions started to mount. Messages and e-mails from my sister and Jay. I simply cannot seem to ask them to stop interrupting me. They probably are having an easy day--well, at least I know that sister was taking a day off to recover from an upper respiratory infection--and they want to share it with. Or so it seems like. I don't want to be rude, but it still does make me stressed and anxious. Usually, my afternoon catnap does wonders. It did today too. But after that, the constant stream of interruptions kept me on edge all evening. How I wish I could just block everything and just do my work.
Then the day became worse. Unnecessary wait for the rickshaw, heavy rain on the way with me getting partially wet, crazy traffic--all of this when I was trying to reach my apartment in time to receive my guitar amplifier from someone that my friend was sending it with. In the middle of all this, there was a playful, teasing Jay, at the other end of a Whatsapp chat. Eventually, I let him know that I would appreciate if he would be a little more understanding and less teasing when things are not working out for me. I don't think he completely understood but there was a temporary relief from the frantic texting.
Then I walked into my building to screaming kids, as usual. I walked into my apartment to find that the maid hasn't come in an done the cleaning. Eventually, I learned that my friend was not going to be able to send the amplifier after all! I was so edgy by this time, that I felt that I need to have dinner and go to bed early. So I dial the restaurant downstairs to only find out that there telephone line is engaged for almost half an hour! In between all this, some more texting with Jay. Eventually I got through to the restaurant and got some dinner.
I tried to read a book for a bit but the most annoying ads in between overs on the cricket broadcast and the screaming kids on the corridor did not let me concentrate. Then I had dinner and I felt slightly better. Jay tried some philosophy on the fucked-up-ness of the world on text. That's probably not what I wanted. Eventually, he asked me if I would like to have a phone conversation. A usual, I refused because I felt that we would have a very edgy conversation. It was hard to make him understand why I must go to bed early.
I watched the last few overs of the test match while sorting out my medications for the next few weeks, putting the cocktail of pills in my monthly pill box. I realized that I was relatively short of one of the six I was on. That means that I have to go get another prescription from the shrink and go to the pharmacy and beg for them to give the drugs to me! Aarrgh! The only other things that I can imagine that could have made this day worse are losing my wallet, getting dumped, and have multiple limbs amputated in a road traffic accident.
I want this day to end. Please.
First it was the constant barrage of interruptions. Junior editors asking me doubts, the project managers constantly shuffling and changing work, people randomly coming up and stopping by, work-related e-mail and instant messages on your computers. I know multitasking is not efficient, but how the hell do you ask people to stop interrupting you? One could argue that being interrupted is a given in a work environment similar to mine, but I don't think that still doesn't explain why people don't think of ways to establish guidelines to streamline all of this.
And then the personal life interruptions started to mount. Messages and e-mails from my sister and Jay. I simply cannot seem to ask them to stop interrupting me. They probably are having an easy day--well, at least I know that sister was taking a day off to recover from an upper respiratory infection--and they want to share it with. Or so it seems like. I don't want to be rude, but it still does make me stressed and anxious. Usually, my afternoon catnap does wonders. It did today too. But after that, the constant stream of interruptions kept me on edge all evening. How I wish I could just block everything and just do my work.
Then the day became worse. Unnecessary wait for the rickshaw, heavy rain on the way with me getting partially wet, crazy traffic--all of this when I was trying to reach my apartment in time to receive my guitar amplifier from someone that my friend was sending it with. In the middle of all this, there was a playful, teasing Jay, at the other end of a Whatsapp chat. Eventually, I let him know that I would appreciate if he would be a little more understanding and less teasing when things are not working out for me. I don't think he completely understood but there was a temporary relief from the frantic texting.
Then I walked into my building to screaming kids, as usual. I walked into my apartment to find that the maid hasn't come in an done the cleaning. Eventually, I learned that my friend was not going to be able to send the amplifier after all! I was so edgy by this time, that I felt that I need to have dinner and go to bed early. So I dial the restaurant downstairs to only find out that there telephone line is engaged for almost half an hour! In between all this, some more texting with Jay. Eventually I got through to the restaurant and got some dinner.
I tried to read a book for a bit but the most annoying ads in between overs on the cricket broadcast and the screaming kids on the corridor did not let me concentrate. Then I had dinner and I felt slightly better. Jay tried some philosophy on the fucked-up-ness of the world on text. That's probably not what I wanted. Eventually, he asked me if I would like to have a phone conversation. A usual, I refused because I felt that we would have a very edgy conversation. It was hard to make him understand why I must go to bed early.
I watched the last few overs of the test match while sorting out my medications for the next few weeks, putting the cocktail of pills in my monthly pill box. I realized that I was relatively short of one of the six I was on. That means that I have to go get another prescription from the shrink and go to the pharmacy and beg for them to give the drugs to me! Aarrgh! The only other things that I can imagine that could have made this day worse are losing my wallet, getting dumped, and have multiple limbs amputated in a road traffic accident.
I want this day to end. Please.
A conversation with Vinokur
It's been almost four years since I broke up with Vinokur. The phrase "broke up" seems harsh to describe what had really happened. Maybe I should paraphrase it as transitioning from a phase in our relationship to another phrase, where the balance between friendship and affection is different. Although it was initially difficult for both of us (I think) to remain in touch with each other and be each other's best friends, like we were during our romantic relationship, we maintained contact, albeit sparse, in the initial few months.
The conversations that we tended to have usually started with a background of him needing some advice from me regarding his health problems or me needing him as a friend who I trust to confide in during the darkest phases of my depression. Yes, even now, Vinokur is one of the few people that I trust well enough to expose my precarious mental states during crises. However, despite us hanging up almost every time saying something like, "That was very enjoyable. Maybe we should do this more often," we hardly seemed to be able to keep our word and only Skyped once every couple of months or so. This has been severe since early April, when my present phase of depression kicked in. As the usual trend during such phases, I have been avoiding conversations. However, this time around, I've been avoiding Skype conversations as well with almost everyone, including my faithful confidants. In fact, I think I have had only three or four brief conversations, one each with Blummer, Mickles3, and Billiards, but none with Vinokur.
So two night's back, Vinokur wrote me after posting a photo of me on Facebook, which got a lot of reactions. I have also been off of Facebook since early April and all I get are notifications in my email. So I didn't know which photo it was and what the reactions were like. Vinokur had simply written, "Will you have time to talk?" When I receive such messages from him, I usually end up worrying whether there is some big problem in his life that he needs my help with. That's how my mind makes me think. That is, it makes me think that the only reason why someone ever would want to have a conversation with me is because they cannot help avoid it.
My apprehension was slightly alleviated after I told Jay (my boyfriend) that Vinokur had written me. As always, Jay calmed me down and said that may be Vinokur simply wants to talk with me. May be he simply misses you and wants to get back in touch with you. Along with that, Jay forwarded the aforementioned photograph on Whatsapp. Vinokur had taken that photo at a market near our apartment when he visited India in 2008. I felt relieved to see the photo--my fear of something wrong happening in Vinokur's life forcing him to have a conversation with me seemed less likely.
We finally had our conversation last night, and it lasted almost four hours! Just like the good ol' times, with the only pleasant change being that I was sipping a nice blended scotch the whole time. It's amazing how we can sustain a conversation over such a seemingly long duration. We talked about everything--such as, his health, my health, my depression, the books we were reading, the things we were watching, the podcasts that I wanted him to check out, why I'm not being on Facebook (because of it being intimidating, something that I posted on Reddit and got a few interesting and supportive responses for)--in between spells of laughter and linguistic lessons (from him to me). It felt really good.
Anyway, during this conversation, I introduced him to the concept of mindfulness meditation* as well as the other measures that my shrink/therapist duo are employing in their efforts to get me back on track. Within a few hours of us hanging up, almost serendipitously, I received a link from him which seemed to tie up several things that we were talking about last night. More on that below**.
It may seem strange to others when I confess that I get a lot of strength and courage out of such conversations/interactions. In fact, this entire series of events--from Vinokur posting a photo of me to Facebook to the conversation that we had about me not being on Facebook--may eventually lead to me thawing myself out from Facebook hibernation! Wish me luck! Also, thank Vinokur and Jay! :)
*If you are unaware of mindfulness, I strongly recommend that you check out this video of a Google talk by Jon Kabat-Zinn, the guy who made meditation mainstream in the world of modern medicine.
**I have written in detail about what this link is about on Neverlast. Here's the tweet that Tumblr sent out after I posted it. If you are interested in psychology, you may want to check it out, especially if you have had problems with depression and anxiety.
The conversations that we tended to have usually started with a background of him needing some advice from me regarding his health problems or me needing him as a friend who I trust to confide in during the darkest phases of my depression. Yes, even now, Vinokur is one of the few people that I trust well enough to expose my precarious mental states during crises. However, despite us hanging up almost every time saying something like, "That was very enjoyable. Maybe we should do this more often," we hardly seemed to be able to keep our word and only Skyped once every couple of months or so. This has been severe since early April, when my present phase of depression kicked in. As the usual trend during such phases, I have been avoiding conversations. However, this time around, I've been avoiding Skype conversations as well with almost everyone, including my faithful confidants. In fact, I think I have had only three or four brief conversations, one each with Blummer, Mickles3, and Billiards, but none with Vinokur.
So two night's back, Vinokur wrote me after posting a photo of me on Facebook, which got a lot of reactions. I have also been off of Facebook since early April and all I get are notifications in my email. So I didn't know which photo it was and what the reactions were like. Vinokur had simply written, "Will you have time to talk?" When I receive such messages from him, I usually end up worrying whether there is some big problem in his life that he needs my help with. That's how my mind makes me think. That is, it makes me think that the only reason why someone ever would want to have a conversation with me is because they cannot help avoid it.
My apprehension was slightly alleviated after I told Jay (my boyfriend) that Vinokur had written me. As always, Jay calmed me down and said that may be Vinokur simply wants to talk with me. May be he simply misses you and wants to get back in touch with you. Along with that, Jay forwarded the aforementioned photograph on Whatsapp. Vinokur had taken that photo at a market near our apartment when he visited India in 2008. I felt relieved to see the photo--my fear of something wrong happening in Vinokur's life forcing him to have a conversation with me seemed less likely.
We finally had our conversation last night, and it lasted almost four hours! Just like the good ol' times, with the only pleasant change being that I was sipping a nice blended scotch the whole time. It's amazing how we can sustain a conversation over such a seemingly long duration. We talked about everything--such as, his health, my health, my depression, the books we were reading, the things we were watching, the podcasts that I wanted him to check out, why I'm not being on Facebook (because of it being intimidating, something that I posted on Reddit and got a few interesting and supportive responses for)--in between spells of laughter and linguistic lessons (from him to me). It felt really good.
Anyway, during this conversation, I introduced him to the concept of mindfulness meditation* as well as the other measures that my shrink/therapist duo are employing in their efforts to get me back on track. Within a few hours of us hanging up, almost serendipitously, I received a link from him which seemed to tie up several things that we were talking about last night. More on that below**.
It may seem strange to others when I confess that I get a lot of strength and courage out of such conversations/interactions. In fact, this entire series of events--from Vinokur posting a photo of me to Facebook to the conversation that we had about me not being on Facebook--may eventually lead to me thawing myself out from Facebook hibernation! Wish me luck! Also, thank Vinokur and Jay! :)
*If you are unaware of mindfulness, I strongly recommend that you check out this video of a Google talk by Jon Kabat-Zinn, the guy who made meditation mainstream in the world of modern medicine.
**I have written in detail about what this link is about on Neverlast. Here's the tweet that Tumblr sent out after I posted it. If you are interested in psychology, you may want to check it out, especially if you have had problems with depression and anxiety.
People do not like to be alone - a scientific fact - If you are like me, having grown up in a relatively... http://t.co/c5h2Z89pA7
— Krishna Kumar V. (@krishna_kumar_v) July 27, 2014
My Triumvariate Balancing Act While Floating in the Ocean of Depression (2013 - a Year in Review)
Exactly 365 days back, I was happy - or I felt that I was. I was in the initial stages of a promising relationship, life was good, and I was under therapy. I thought I had everything under control. Finally, it was time to see whether I was dependent on my pharmacotherapeutical crutch.
Prompted by my shrink, under the umbrella of my "real" first short-distance long-term relationship, I decided to take the chance. Under the shrink's guidance, I tapered myself off of medications, with almost total compliance. Things seemed okay. The relationship, thanks to its realness and rawness, was giving me a lot of scope to test my endurance and limits. So was work, with the management at my office seemingly destined to stretch the employees to their physical and mental limits. In such phases, I get into the mode of trying to better myself, and I pushed myself harder. I thought I was doing well, coping enough to hang on to my biochemical mileu by very shaky threads.
In tandem, something else was happening. Under the pretence of the need for "space" in the relationship, whic was triggered by the frequent arguments, fights, six or seven 'almost-break up's, I started spending more time by myself, with my guitars in my apartment. This, not too surprisingly, resulted in a rejuvenated phase of songwriting, thanks a lot to the freshness added by my new partner in musical crime.
This was the silver phase of an otherwise gray 2013, during which time I had the cushion of the remnant unmetabolized/uneliminated drugs in my body, along with a relatively acquiescent phase in the relationship. It lasted for a few weeks, two months at the maximum, after which the monster was unleashed. The feelings reminiscent of childhood and adolescence were back - fear, apprehension, exaggerated startle response, insecurities, self-loathing, self-esteem issues, excessive tendency to punish myself, self-blame, almost-delusions. So were behaviors, including anger management issues, rage, raising voice, and abnormal conversational mode. All this was made worse by the incredibly long hours at work daily, which seemed to get worse as the year progressed.
Around my birthday on the 7th of November, a series of events led me to my first real nadir of depression in about 18 months, driving me to consider whether it was worth living while being miserable and causing others to suffer. On a Saturday night, when almost everything around me, and everyone who I was communicating with, seemingly suggested that I was a worthless piece of shit, I decided to call up and check with the only person that I thought I could trust – Vinokur.
Of course, he was not aware of what was going on. But thankfully, I got the answer. That gave me the validation that I required. Within 12 hours, thanks to the persistence of my boyfriend, I visited the shrink and I was put on temporary medication. I went on to undergo a comprehensive psychological test, the results of which suggested a plethora of psychological issues, including post-traumatic stress disorder, childhood abuse, depression, bipolar disorder, anxiety-related, and stress-related issues. In a blood test, I was found to have Vit D deficiency and hyperlipidemia, and an ultrasound of the abdomen revealed fatty liver.
At the moment, the shrink and I are planning on a comprehensive treatment plan, including behavioral therapy, meditation, counseling, and pharmacotherapy. In addition, I am in the process of consulting a physician for the management of hyperlipidemia and fatty liver. As I write this post, I am in the middle of my first real vacation after February this year. I am at Meherabad (off of Ahmednagar, approximately 6 hours from Mumbai) with Jay, after having invited by my friend Billiards. The calm and quiet of Meherabad along with the lack of work-related stress has been working for me, reinforcing my views that the countryside may be the long-term solution to my depression. Anyway, I hope this will mark a period of gradual improvement.
Plus, I realize that the pharmacotherapy, which gave me a very "feel good" period from mid-2012 to mid-2013, had handed me a very unproductive, in fact, disastrous, phase as a musician. I regret that it took so long for me to realize what was happening. In the last few months, I have tried my best to reinstate my career as a musician. Although the addition of rehearsals and related affairs add to the stress in general, there is no way but try to ensure that I follow the path that gives me most creative pleasure and satisfaction.
Here's to a very productive 2014, when I must juggle the three repsonsibilities - work, music, and relationship - while ensuring that I cope with my depression.
Prompted by my shrink, under the umbrella of my "real" first short-distance long-term relationship, I decided to take the chance. Under the shrink's guidance, I tapered myself off of medications, with almost total compliance. Things seemed okay. The relationship, thanks to its realness and rawness, was giving me a lot of scope to test my endurance and limits. So was work, with the management at my office seemingly destined to stretch the employees to their physical and mental limits. In such phases, I get into the mode of trying to better myself, and I pushed myself harder. I thought I was doing well, coping enough to hang on to my biochemical mileu by very shaky threads.
In tandem, something else was happening. Under the pretence of the need for "space" in the relationship, whic was triggered by the frequent arguments, fights, six or seven 'almost-break up's, I started spending more time by myself, with my guitars in my apartment. This, not too surprisingly, resulted in a rejuvenated phase of songwriting, thanks a lot to the freshness added by my new partner in musical crime.
This was the silver phase of an otherwise gray 2013, during which time I had the cushion of the remnant unmetabolized/uneliminated drugs in my body, along with a relatively acquiescent phase in the relationship. It lasted for a few weeks, two months at the maximum, after which the monster was unleashed. The feelings reminiscent of childhood and adolescence were back - fear, apprehension, exaggerated startle response, insecurities, self-loathing, self-esteem issues, excessive tendency to punish myself, self-blame, almost-delusions. So were behaviors, including anger management issues, rage, raising voice, and abnormal conversational mode. All this was made worse by the incredibly long hours at work daily, which seemed to get worse as the year progressed.
Around my birthday on the 7th of November, a series of events led me to my first real nadir of depression in about 18 months, driving me to consider whether it was worth living while being miserable and causing others to suffer. On a Saturday night, when almost everything around me, and everyone who I was communicating with, seemingly suggested that I was a worthless piece of shit, I decided to call up and check with the only person that I thought I could trust – Vinokur.
Of course, he was not aware of what was going on. But thankfully, I got the answer. That gave me the validation that I required. Within 12 hours, thanks to the persistence of my boyfriend, I visited the shrink and I was put on temporary medication. I went on to undergo a comprehensive psychological test, the results of which suggested a plethora of psychological issues, including post-traumatic stress disorder, childhood abuse, depression, bipolar disorder, anxiety-related, and stress-related issues. In a blood test, I was found to have Vit D deficiency and hyperlipidemia, and an ultrasound of the abdomen revealed fatty liver.
At the moment, the shrink and I are planning on a comprehensive treatment plan, including behavioral therapy, meditation, counseling, and pharmacotherapy. In addition, I am in the process of consulting a physician for the management of hyperlipidemia and fatty liver. As I write this post, I am in the middle of my first real vacation after February this year. I am at Meherabad (off of Ahmednagar, approximately 6 hours from Mumbai) with Jay, after having invited by my friend Billiards. The calm and quiet of Meherabad along with the lack of work-related stress has been working for me, reinforcing my views that the countryside may be the long-term solution to my depression. Anyway, I hope this will mark a period of gradual improvement.
Plus, I realize that the pharmacotherapy, which gave me a very "feel good" period from mid-2012 to mid-2013, had handed me a very unproductive, in fact, disastrous, phase as a musician. I regret that it took so long for me to realize what was happening. In the last few months, I have tried my best to reinstate my career as a musician. Although the addition of rehearsals and related affairs add to the stress in general, there is no way but try to ensure that I follow the path that gives me most creative pleasure and satisfaction.
Here's to a very productive 2014, when I must juggle the three repsonsibilities - work, music, and relationship - while ensuring that I cope with my depression.
Merry Christmas
I can't believe that it's been over 6 months since I last posted a note on this blog. I sincerely apologize. Just so you know, I had my last major bout of depression in early April 2012. Life has almost come around a whole circle in the succeeding 8 months or so. I'm at a very happy place in my life at the moment. Knock on wood!
So what happened in that period? The lack of motivation to share thoughts, which comes bundled with the package of depression in the brains of people like me, was the reason in the first three months. I cheated. I mean I lied, or, maybe I should say, I didn't come clean with the truth, in the last few posts. This was when I was really struggling to comprehend what was happening to me.
Supposedly, I was happy. I was in a promising relationship, had ongoing projects with three bands, one one of which looked like it would fulfill my dream of cutting an album, and my work-life was going smoothly. From out of nowhere, it hit me. I fell flat on my face and the people closest to me chose to give up on me. Within no time, I was dumped my my lover, rejected by one band, kicked out of another, and stranded by the third.
I was dazed and confused but I managed to not crack down under adversity, thanks to some excellent friends, who stood by me and saw me through, and of course, to my new shrink. Thank you, Billiards, for spending so much time with me on Skype virtually every night for many months. Thank you, Sujit, for helping me find a new shrink, which made me turn the corner. Thank you, my work colleagues, for providing me with the wonderful environment where I spend most of my awake hours. Finally, thank you Mr. Psychiatrist, without whom, wouldn't have known what it is like to be really happy.
The new shrink, almost magically, brought in a radical transition by switching me to a new medication and guiding me to cognitive therapy. He suggested that I should be weaned off of the previous psychoactive cocktail (low-dose combination therapy with escitalopram, clonazepam, and haloperidol) and started me on bupropion. Along with that, he guided me to http://depressioncenter.net, which gave me the insight about cognitive therapy - I meticulously maintained a mood diary for about a month, which enabled me to find out what were the real triggers, and thereby find the root cause of my negative thought cycles.
Sometime in late July or early August, I started enjoying life like I have never before. I guess I had more time for myself with most of my responsibilities as a musician, apart from my that as a solo performer, having vacated my life, and I started watching, following, and reading stuff that interested me and I started looking forward to spending time by myself. I restarted socializing - dating, drinking out, going for movies, etc. I also was able to get rid of my guilt to spend money for myself for entertainment and leisure. By September, I was dead sure - the period comprising the last three months or so was the happiest that I had ever been.
Then, in October, out of nowhere, I met three interesting men - all three attractive, single (well, technically, at least), and interested in me. All three are so different and yet seemed to offer me something that I had never experienced in Mumbai - dating. Although I'm good friends with all of them, I have spent most of the last two months with one of them - Jay - and it has just been a wonderful experience.
Thus, on the eve of Christmas, I sit by myself, content and happy, albeit missing Jay, hoping to spend the New Year's eve with him.
Merry Christmas.
Stay calm and hug a bear. Trust me, that works.
So what happened in that period? The lack of motivation to share thoughts, which comes bundled with the package of depression in the brains of people like me, was the reason in the first three months. I cheated. I mean I lied, or, maybe I should say, I didn't come clean with the truth, in the last few posts. This was when I was really struggling to comprehend what was happening to me.
Supposedly, I was happy. I was in a promising relationship, had ongoing projects with three bands, one one of which looked like it would fulfill my dream of cutting an album, and my work-life was going smoothly. From out of nowhere, it hit me. I fell flat on my face and the people closest to me chose to give up on me. Within no time, I was dumped my my lover, rejected by one band, kicked out of another, and stranded by the third.
I was dazed and confused but I managed to not crack down under adversity, thanks to some excellent friends, who stood by me and saw me through, and of course, to my new shrink. Thank you, Billiards, for spending so much time with me on Skype virtually every night for many months. Thank you, Sujit, for helping me find a new shrink, which made me turn the corner. Thank you, my work colleagues, for providing me with the wonderful environment where I spend most of my awake hours. Finally, thank you Mr. Psychiatrist, without whom, wouldn't have known what it is like to be really happy.
The new shrink, almost magically, brought in a radical transition by switching me to a new medication and guiding me to cognitive therapy. He suggested that I should be weaned off of the previous psychoactive cocktail (low-dose combination therapy with escitalopram, clonazepam, and haloperidol) and started me on bupropion. Along with that, he guided me to http://depressioncenter.net, which gave me the insight about cognitive therapy - I meticulously maintained a mood diary for about a month, which enabled me to find out what were the real triggers, and thereby find the root cause of my negative thought cycles.
Sometime in late July or early August, I started enjoying life like I have never before. I guess I had more time for myself with most of my responsibilities as a musician, apart from my that as a solo performer, having vacated my life, and I started watching, following, and reading stuff that interested me and I started looking forward to spending time by myself. I restarted socializing - dating, drinking out, going for movies, etc. I also was able to get rid of my guilt to spend money for myself for entertainment and leisure. By September, I was dead sure - the period comprising the last three months or so was the happiest that I had ever been.
Then, in October, out of nowhere, I met three interesting men - all three attractive, single (well, technically, at least), and interested in me. All three are so different and yet seemed to offer me something that I had never experienced in Mumbai - dating. Although I'm good friends with all of them, I have spent most of the last two months with one of them - Jay - and it has just been a wonderful experience.
Thus, on the eve of Christmas, I sit by myself, content and happy, albeit missing Jay, hoping to spend the New Year's eve with him.
Merry Christmas.
Stay calm and hug a bear. Trust me, that works.
Withdrawal
The new shrink started tapering my medication off starting last week. This week, I’m slowly starting to experience the side effects. Apart from fluctuations in mood and vulnerability, I am experiencing tremulousness and anxiety. I’m having trouble falling asleep and I have headaches. Last night, I had to have a cognac before I could fall asleep.
Tonight, I have a slight headache and I feel like eating something meaty. But I won’t. I will instead, drink a glass of milk and hope to fall asleep watching the first Euro 2012 semi-final between Portugal and Spain. Wish me luck!
A career nadir
Despite the good news about my meeting with the shrink, I have a sad news to break to. I have been laid off from my active band Overhung. It was rather unceremonious. The two band members who are in Mumbai called me up for a rehearsal. Instead of rehearsing, they let me know, in the best way they could, that they are looking for a new bass player.
I took it well. I have been expecting something like this for some time now. I wished them well (really, I do wish them well) and went back to work. This practically means that my active musical career is slowly coming to an end. Shor Bazaar is not active. Cirkles is barely so. My dream is slowly fading. I won’t have a record with my name on it.
(PS: Coincidentally, the Shor Bazaar’s song “Hello, Hello!” video for the FedEx ad is now being played on VH1. Although I haven’t seen it myself, I have heard about it from a few friends of mine. Oh, well!)
The new shrink
I finally managed to come out of my depression closet and write something on my blog a few days back. Now, I took it another step forward. I met a new shrink.
The first sitting was rather remarkable. He must have asked me maybe eight or ten questions. I would just go on and about my past. The most that I talked about was my relationship with Vinokur and how it came to an end.
It felt telling a stranger about everything that affected me negatively from the past – from parental physical abuse, incestual sexual abuse, being looked down by my family almost throughout my childhood and adolescence, the hospital changing my perspective of life, why I came to Mumbai, to how I fell in and out of love and was broken into pieces – everything.
My shrink listened to me carefully. At the end of of our session, he offered me a comprehensive plan. New antidepressant (bupropion), slow tapering off of the cocktail, introduction to cognitive therapy, and regular physical exercise.
Although, I have been feeling much better in the last few days and I was even more content with myself that I finally took a measure toward getting out of the rut. Let’s see where this leads me.
Battling depression
The past few months, I have been relatively quiet – everywhere, not just on the blog. The depression is at it again. Forcing me to feel bad about myself and incompetent, and making me think of suicide. It makes me want to avoid meeting and talking to people or engage in group activities. The only thing that I have been wanting to do is to go home when I’m at work and to go to work when I’m at home.
Work keeps me engaged and the wonderful family of colleagues that I work with keep me relatively upbeat for most of the working day. Occasionally, one of them would send me an instant message asking me what’s wrong and remind me to start smiling and laughing again. At home, I spent most of the time consuming entertainment – movies, television series, sports, entertainment, social networking, etc. Nothing productive ever happens.
For the few gigs that I had during these months, I managed to work enough to just rehearse enough both by myself and with the bands. The only time I really enjoyed myself is when I was playing live in front of a receptive audience. Some of my friends in my musical circles seem to understand. But I can feel that my band mates are very frustrated with me. I avoid contact with them as much as possible and, on occasions, have postponed/canceled rehearsal sessions at the last minute.
For those who don’t know, I have broken up with Joe. Crazy stuff happened and I was depressed enough to let it happen and not take any measures to prevent the catastrophe. My nadir coincidentally coincided with the breakup.
The last time when I was such a low, Vinokur helped me out. He got in touch with my psychiatry resident friend here and asked her to prescribe something for me. She did. She put me on a cocktail. Escitalopram + Clonazepam + Haloperidol. I have been religiously adhering to the prescription for the best part of the last 3 years.
But now, I think I need a change. Maybe a new shrink. Someone who doesn’t know me. Someone who can arrive at a diagnosis and start treatment afresh.
A Friday To Remember (part 1)
Yesterday was a classic day when I was called to combine all three facets of my life - work/music/gay socializing - in a manner which would envy most.
I woke up late, thanks to a late-night rehearsal, which resulted in me taking my pills later than usual. I had a hectic day at work with reviews of trainee assignments and a separate document to edit. At the end of the day, I was called in for an unplanned discussion about a client complaint on an assignment - one of the rare times I fucked up at work - that dragged my eventual departure from office even more.
I was late for soundcheck for my gig at Not Just Jazz By The Bay with Cirkles (Shoonyas). I messaged my bandmates to let them know that I was running late. Ironically enough, I reached the venue the first. I was a little anxious because I was performing a few original compositions of mine (for Ideat Savant). Ideally, I would have liked to soundcheck my set, but the band soundcheck got so delayed than we finished it at 10 pm, just 15 minutes from the starting time.
I was surprised to see my friend and shrink Dr. R and her husband Jay turn up for the event. It had been about a year since I had talked to them and I didn't know when to start. After pleasantries, I consciously tried to avoid the converation drifting to my depression and career choices. I must say that I was relatively succesful.
I was expecting a gay friend of mine, the date from the New Year's Eve party that I had attended to turn up as well. He didn't have company and since my old friends had turned up, I thought of hooking them up with my date. He arrived as were finishing our first song of the day. I beckoned him over and I suggested that he hang out with my friends, which he evntually ended up doing. I don't know if he would be comfortable, but I was hoping he would.
Well, our set-list got a warm response, and we played an electric set really tight to get a rousing applause from the crowd. Unfortunately, our vocalist was struggling with a sore throat, and we took a break after an hour and 15 minutes on stage. The break was rather long, and I took the opportunity to catch up with my friends and the date. We had a nice conversation and I introduced everyone to my bandmates. (continued...)
I woke up late, thanks to a late-night rehearsal, which resulted in me taking my pills later than usual. I had a hectic day at work with reviews of trainee assignments and a separate document to edit. At the end of the day, I was called in for an unplanned discussion about a client complaint on an assignment - one of the rare times I fucked up at work - that dragged my eventual departure from office even more.
I was late for soundcheck for my gig at Not Just Jazz By The Bay with Cirkles (Shoonyas). I messaged my bandmates to let them know that I was running late. Ironically enough, I reached the venue the first. I was a little anxious because I was performing a few original compositions of mine (for Ideat Savant). Ideally, I would have liked to soundcheck my set, but the band soundcheck got so delayed than we finished it at 10 pm, just 15 minutes from the starting time.
I was surprised to see my friend and shrink Dr. R and her husband Jay turn up for the event. It had been about a year since I had talked to them and I didn't know when to start. After pleasantries, I consciously tried to avoid the converation drifting to my depression and career choices. I must say that I was relatively succesful.
I was expecting a gay friend of mine, the date from the New Year's Eve party that I had attended to turn up as well. He didn't have company and since my old friends had turned up, I thought of hooking them up with my date. He arrived as were finishing our first song of the day. I beckoned him over and I suggested that he hang out with my friends, which he evntually ended up doing. I don't know if he would be comfortable, but I was hoping he would.
Well, our set-list got a warm response, and we played an electric set really tight to get a rousing applause from the crowd. Unfortunately, our vocalist was struggling with a sore throat, and we took a break after an hour and 15 minutes on stage. The break was rather long, and I took the opportunity to catch up with my friends and the date. We had a nice conversation and I introduced everyone to my bandmates. (continued...)
The negativities associated with depression and its therapy
You know how lazy depression makes you? To deprive you of all the buzz in your life. Everything looks and feels sordid. You make plans and try your very best to break them. If your friends insist on doing stuff with you, you find a myriad of ways to get out of them. Excuses are splurted by the hundreds and trust me -- each and every one of them feels as if it came from the bottom of your heart and you meant it as if your life depended on it.
The funniest thing however is that the therapy that you are prescribed to cure it also takes most of the zing out of your life too. It makes you feel lazy and tired. It makes you feel sleepier than ever, and you would end up wanting to spend every solitary moment you have on your bed or couch dozing away. Every day still feels like a chore -- funny that work doesn't -- but everything else still feels like a chore and you have to fight your way out to find some energy and motivation to achieve goals.
This makes me wonder -- is the therapy effective enough? Or is it simply something that just takes away the edge from your depression -- makes you feels less anhedonic, less suicidal, and overall blunts all your negativity. But it does the same to your positive energy -- at least, if you were to go by my experience. The ironic thing is that I feel shy to approach R who started the present course on me. Depression itself and the side effects of therapy had widened the already created divide and I don't feel like talking to her any more. I don't feel likie I can afford another shrink either.
I don't fucking know what I should do.
The funniest thing however is that the therapy that you are prescribed to cure it also takes most of the zing out of your life too. It makes you feel lazy and tired. It makes you feel sleepier than ever, and you would end up wanting to spend every solitary moment you have on your bed or couch dozing away. Every day still feels like a chore -- funny that work doesn't -- but everything else still feels like a chore and you have to fight your way out to find some energy and motivation to achieve goals.
This makes me wonder -- is the therapy effective enough? Or is it simply something that just takes away the edge from your depression -- makes you feels less anhedonic, less suicidal, and overall blunts all your negativity. But it does the same to your positive energy -- at least, if you were to go by my experience. The ironic thing is that I feel shy to approach R who started the present course on me. Depression itself and the side effects of therapy had widened the already created divide and I don't feel like talking to her any more. I don't feel likie I can afford another shrink either.
I don't fucking know what I should do.
On the following day...
Well, I chatted with the 'romantic' guy again yesterday night. Surprisingly enough, the chat was pretty normal. I even mentioned to him that I had blogged about our 'romantic' conversation. He seemed to be pretty cool about it.
From what I know about him, I think he's someone who had a recent painful experience in love, and this painful break up is manifesting in the quasi-neurotic 'romantic' tendencies, which is something that is actually wants in a relationship. That's my pseudo-shrink diagnosis anyway.
We managed to get over all this and go cam to cam on Yahoo, and I was floored my his 'thick-as-a-brick' moustache. Also, I was able to maked him smile and laugh with my silly jokes. So, all this is going well, I guess. Touch-plywood!
From what I know about him, I think he's someone who had a recent painful experience in love, and this painful break up is manifesting in the quasi-neurotic 'romantic' tendencies, which is something that is actually wants in a relationship. That's my pseudo-shrink diagnosis anyway.
We managed to get over all this and go cam to cam on Yahoo, and I was floored my his 'thick-as-a-brick' moustache. Also, I was able to maked him smile and laugh with my silly jokes. So, all this is going well, I guess. Touch-plywood!
Thank you - I am back
The winter might be wreaking havoc up north and in the West; I too experienced its bite when Shor Bazaar went up to Gulmarg to perform for the New Year's bash arranged by the J&K government to usher in the decade of snow tourism, but the hell-freeze capturing my mind seems to be thawing. It's interesting to note that the pure whiteness and sheer beauty of the virgin snow up on the slopes exists almost symbiotically with the unyielding bitterness of the cold. When I was up there, I wished if my mind were wiped clean off all what's done and those not won, of all the pain and those not gained, of all what's lost and those who caused.
I have survived once more, almost by a miracle thanks to the one and only soul who stood by me all along, albeit half the world away, the two women who took care of me gastronomically, a set of seven musicians in two bands who were generous enough to bear with my thymic chorea (out for which two, you and you, who have helped me the most), and a generous set of friends who have reached out with their heart more than once, so touchingly, and finally, a wonderful set of colleagues who have adjusted to me like how glove adjusts to a surgeon's hand. I must not forget to thank my shrink (Dear. R) who prescribed an SSRI, an anxiolytic, and anantipschyotic that are making me stay mellow and warm.
This year has begun wonderfully well. I have renewed hope. I truly hope that I have turned the biggest corner of my life and am running away from the past! For all of who who have helped me, thank you! I wish you a wonderful and happy new year!
I have survived once more, almost by a miracle thanks to the one and only soul who stood by me all along, albeit half the world away, the two women who took care of me gastronomically, a set of seven musicians in two bands who were generous enough to bear with my thymic chorea (out for which two, you and you, who have helped me the most), and a generous set of friends who have reached out with their heart more than once, so touchingly, and finally, a wonderful set of colleagues who have adjusted to me like how glove adjusts to a surgeon's hand. I must not forget to thank my shrink (Dear. R) who prescribed an SSRI, an anxiolytic, and anantipschyotic that are making me stay mellow and warm.
This year has begun wonderfully well. I have renewed hope. I truly hope that I have turned the biggest corner of my life and am running away from the past! For all of who who have helped me, thank you! I wish you a wonderful and happy new year!
Entry submitted
I have finally submitted the entries for Toto Funds the Arts competition. I went over to the Only Much Louder record label's office and submitted it. This means that I am going to stop making edits and fine tunings to the recordings. I'm kinda relieved that it is over with.
I'll post the first of the three songs that you guys haven't heard yet. This one's 'A World Full of Lies'. I'll post the other two in the coming days.
I'll post the first of the three songs that you guys haven't heard yet. This one's 'A World Full of Lies'. I'll post the other two in the coming days.
A World Full of Lies(PS: I'm feeling a little better and haven't consulted my shrink yet.)
I could look at your face and
Tell how long I have hated you
And leave you feeling dazed
But that would be too easy on you
I could wipe the dust of the pane and
Show you what lies inside
But is there a point in all of this
If you are blind to what you have done
But I can't do anything
To wash out the dirt that's inside
And I can't do anything
I am burning, burning from inside
I could list all of the lies you said
And still be short of breath
But why are we wasting time
On something that was so easy for you
I could have seen through the veil
That you were wearing all through out
But is there a point in all of this
If I can't wipe this scar away
As I can't do anything
To wash out the dirt that's inside
And I can't do anything
I'm still burning, burning from inside
Buring inside, Burning inside
Random updates
- Songs: I'm almost done with the five songs! Just a few hours of work and I'll be through! The last two songs are the electric version of 'Freezing Flames' and the re-recording of one of my old songs 'Living Your Dream'. I'm sure at least the latter is worth waiting for!
- Studies: Obviously, they been affected by the recordings. But it's getting over and I'm glad! Now, I can read almost the entire day except for practice. That should relieve at least a few of the blog readers including my sister.
- Ray: My (gay/bi) friend Ray was planning to get married to a woman, if you remember. I have consciously not bothered to talk to him about the matter in the last weeks. Seems no further plans have been drawn. Instead, he is kinda looking forward to meeting up with new people for a platonic sexual relationship.
- May: She is making me proud by already getting one of her research papers published in a medical journal. I still remember that it was one of her dreams to publish as many research papers as she could. I'm so happy for her!
- Vinokur: He is giving me the scares again by getting oversedated frequently. Twice in the last three days he's been so sedated that he reminded me of the time he was in Mumbai. After a day of heavy
scoldingcoaxing, I have convinced him to talk to his shrink and get his sedatives tapered down. - Record Label: It seems that they are going down with Lehmann Brothers, Merryl Lynch etc. Their promised dates of paying us the money were for this month were the 15th and the 24th. I have lost all trust in them! No hopes on ever getting paid! :(
My Indo-Pakistan paranoia
This afternoon, I had a chat session with a fellow gay from across the border. Since I believe in baring my heart out here, I thought it was a good idea to post a little bit of the transcript. I also believe that this will make it easier for my sister's shrink (2, 1) to get comfortable with my sexuality.
Kris: You know the thing that I have for Dads. How hot are Paki Dads? Just tell me.
Young Paki Gay: Very ;) They are going to come upto your expectations on EACH of your ideals ;) I did a couple of Paki dads and they were GOOD in bed :)
Kris: FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! Why did we ever get to be independent?
Young Paki Gay: So we can cross international boundaires and feel even BETTER about sex ;)
Kris: Now, I have a reason to get depressed.
Young Paki Gay: No you don't. :) From what I have heard,Pakistanis are just like Dilliwalas and Punjabis. You can visit Delhi and get laid.
Kris: Fuck you! I wanna get laid by a Khan or Sharif or Nazar or something!
The meta-post
The past few days, a couple of the fellow co-conspirator(s) (as one of our dear blogger friend prefers to call ourselves) had detailed their hardships in christening their entries. Fair. Even I have had had my share of title travails. Like for example whilst I tried to figure out a name for today’s post. I have a wide array of stuff to write about, albeit personal. And I was left to wonder as to how to sum it all up. I didn’t have to think too hard to come up with, what some might call an ‘intelligent’ title. [Pause, with a gracious bow to raptures of clapping from the audience comprising of 5 people.]. Thank you, thank you ladies and more… uhh… ladies!
I guess I’ve been rambling about sleeping troubles (references 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6). I’ve been ranting about solving those, at least to myself (in my head), for at least the last couple of days. Today I did it. Yesterday, I forced myself to fall asleep reading a book. That seemed to be the unanimous choice of experts from all corners of the globe to the clinical phenomenon of disorder of falling into sleep. If you are not aware, most of the medications prescribed by shrinks and pharmacists for sleep, are actually to let us fall asleep rather than to make us sleep more. [Funda 1 of the day] This funda will be highlighted in a tangential drift vide infra.
I spent about 2 hours reading Alan Hollinghurst’s ‘The Line of Beauty’. It’s a charming book mainly because of the fantastic adjectives and phrases which are only used in formal parlance in the high English society. So I had my Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary beside me constantly providing me spasms of unusable knowledge. I distinctly remember four instances when I was in the process of getting into the first stages of NREM sleep [Funda 2 of the day: Sleep is composed of stages which are divided to NREM and REM sleep] when sounds of squeaking and scrambling through my kitchen-stuff, which the classical music that I was playing was unable to drown, awakened me. I was frustrated. I wished if I could go to a supermarket and get those unhuman-fequency-noise-emitting-devices (reference)to ward off these silly weird creatures. Finally at around 6 ‘O Clock in the morning, I fell asleep.
I woke up to brisk knocking on the door at around 9 ‘O Clock. Warily, I got up from bed and opened the door. My jaw dropped when I saw that it was my landlord and his wife visiting their cute little apartment, after a period of 3 months of recluse in Dubai. Thankfully, the apartment was not too shabby (at least for a straight guy). Even though there weren’t any places to seat them, I invited them to sit on the longish cushion that I had made out of one half of the mattress which lay by the window in the living room. They refused. Instead they walked in and checked out the teeny-weeny studio apartment, which was my abode. I guess they were impressed at the levels of cleanliness and order (at least for a bachelor).
Soon the conversation shifted to what plumbing/carpentry/electrical work that I had done at the apartment. He had agreed to settle the expenses when we would meet. I was still delirious because of the relative hyposomnia and could not recollect the exact amount that I had ended up spending. The golden chance to procure some money in the darkest monetary phase of my life was slipping away. They were about to leave.
Then, something incredible happened. The landlord’s wife, an intelligent looking lady, walked to the little ‘table’ made out of the biggest carton that I had and began checking out my book collection. A rich sprinkling of the best of fiction from the recent years including the likes of Rushdie, Hosseini, Desai, Lahiri must have been the causes of redemption (despite the presence of Rand, Robbins [Harold!] and Crichton and Marvel comics). The conversation went on when I explained them that the collection is not only mine, but also my friend’s (Noise Market’s singer Jodi also reads a lot). I offered the coffee which was against dealt with a firm ‘no’.
By then the conversation had eased out and I think I was also woken up. I managed to convince them that I needed some money and I would appreciate if they gave me some money for the work that I had done. We rounded up to a nice sum which will be deducted from the actual amount at a later date and that was scribbled in a cheque and handed over to me. It was like my Christmas present without the Santa, reindeers, the cute sexy Santa-helper-dwarves and of course, Christmas!
It was such a relief that I forgot to pee in the morning. Okay, okay… I made this up entirely for recreational purposes. I’m a creative writer and I require that kind of space and freedom!
So, I was happy and relieved and felt like the little pieces of my life were falling into place again. After a brief roundup of news and my internet-footprint over a cup of black coffee, I was amused to observe that the effects of my good-fortune seemed to have crossed Sethusamundaram as I watched ‘See-wag’ and ‘Gam-bhier’ paste the ‘M’ duo around the Galle cricket ground. [Funda 3 of the day: This cricket stadium was a close witness and victim of the 2004 Tsunami as this ground lies next to the Indian Ocean.] The weather, too, was looking much better with the sun belting down on Mumbai. Without wasting my opportunity, I finished the boring chore of washing my clothes, put them on hangers to dry at the living room window. After a shower, I was ready to take on the world.
I spent the afternoon at the studio with the band. It was very entertaining with the conversation ranging from concepts for our first music video to bollywood gossip about the Khans and the Kaifs. We did all this chatter at a room beside the main control room where our dear audio engineer and his intern were mixing the songs. I’m proudly pleased to announce that it’s shaping up good!
As the evening started making out with the night, I cantered out of the studio feeling gleeful about the entire schema of my life. I felt that this money that I had just procured had unleashed me from my poverty, which had taken its toll on my lifestyle. I had actually stopped buying foodstuff like milk, vegetables and bread and had restricted myself to a diet with just rice soup and instant noodles with the occasional ordering-out from a cheap restaurant. Sauntering into the Reliance Fresh outlet with a guitar strapped to my shoulders and with an I *heart* NY T-shirt, I must have looked like a hippie rock star.
I indulged in some serious shopping ranging from groceries to shampoos to garbage bags. I think I must have had that glint in the eye of someone who just had sex or something because I saw a lot people staring at me. I don’t think that I deserved any further attention that normal despite the trimming and styling of my entire cranial hair that I had just got at a cheap saloon nearby. I even managed to get a seriously hot 32 and ¾ th-ish guy looking at me!
The walk back to the apartment was even more comic-o-bnoxious [in search of a better adjective here. Even Vinokur couldn’t help me out.] Add about 7 shopping bags to my otherwise rock-star look and you will coin some neologism yourself! I made it past all the reproachful stares in my apartment building where people make comments to each other about people like me in Tamil without even thinking of the fact that I might, just might, understand what they are talking about. The nerve!
Back home, it was time to spend a peaceful, satisfying, family evening with my husband/wife over Skype. You know, for those who don’t understand long-distance-relationships, it’s fun! We have coffee, meals with each other. We spend time with the other in the kitchen helping each other with our recipes etc. We spend time discussing art, books, music with each other. All of this thanks to Skype.
Today, Vinokur was not feeling great. He’s having sleeping problems yet again and to my dismay he has tried the tried-and-detested method of adjusting the sleeping medication according to his own judgement. I was unhappy and didn’t lose time in making my thoughts clear. Thereby, I again bring to light, the ‘Funda 1 of the day’. The sleeping medication that he’s taking is losing it’s potency to make him fall asleep. It doesn’t take an Einstein to figure out that by taking more of this drug will not affect the process of falling asleep in a person but will succeed in giving the adverse effect of excessive, prolonged sedation.
[Funda 4 of the Day] So kids, don’t try this at home. Don’t titrate your psycho-pharmaceutical drug without consulting your shrink.
And thus I come to the end of this post. I have a lot more stuff to write about and ask you people. I’ll put them as addendum.
(PS: I think it's too long. Hardly any comments. Ergo, I'm ordering the last list. I'll also make it easier for people to comment by making a default template for comments. Here goes.)
I guess I’ve been rambling about sleeping troubles (references 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6). I’ve been ranting about solving those, at least to myself (in my head), for at least the last couple of days. Today I did it. Yesterday, I forced myself to fall asleep reading a book. That seemed to be the unanimous choice of experts from all corners of the globe to the clinical phenomenon of disorder of falling into sleep. If you are not aware, most of the medications prescribed by shrinks and pharmacists for sleep, are actually to let us fall asleep rather than to make us sleep more. [Funda 1 of the day] This funda will be highlighted in a tangential drift vide infra.
I spent about 2 hours reading Alan Hollinghurst’s ‘The Line of Beauty’. It’s a charming book mainly because of the fantastic adjectives and phrases which are only used in formal parlance in the high English society. So I had my Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary beside me constantly providing me spasms of unusable knowledge. I distinctly remember four instances when I was in the process of getting into the first stages of NREM sleep [Funda 2 of the day: Sleep is composed of stages which are divided to NREM and REM sleep] when sounds of squeaking and scrambling through my kitchen-stuff, which the classical music that I was playing was unable to drown, awakened me. I was frustrated. I wished if I could go to a supermarket and get those unhuman-fequency-noise-emitting-devices (reference)to ward off these silly weird creatures. Finally at around 6 ‘O Clock in the morning, I fell asleep.I woke up to brisk knocking on the door at around 9 ‘O Clock. Warily, I got up from bed and opened the door. My jaw dropped when I saw that it was my landlord and his wife visiting their cute little apartment, after a period of 3 months of recluse in Dubai. Thankfully, the apartment was not too shabby (at least for a straight guy). Even though there weren’t any places to seat them, I invited them to sit on the longish cushion that I had made out of one half of the mattress which lay by the window in the living room. They refused. Instead they walked in and checked out the teeny-weeny studio apartment, which was my abode. I guess they were impressed at the levels of cleanliness and order (at least for a bachelor).
Soon the conversation shifted to what plumbing/carpentry/electrical work that I had done at the apartment. He had agreed to settle the expenses when we would meet. I was still delirious because of the relative hyposomnia and could not recollect the exact amount that I had ended up spending. The golden chance to procure some money in the darkest monetary phase of my life was slipping away. They were about to leave.
Then, something incredible happened. The landlord’s wife, an intelligent looking lady, walked to the little ‘table’ made out of the biggest carton that I had and began checking out my book collection. A rich sprinkling of the best of fiction from the recent years including the likes of Rushdie, Hosseini, Desai, Lahiri must have been the causes of redemption (despite the presence of Rand, Robbins [Harold!] and Crichton and Marvel comics). The conversation went on when I explained them that the collection is not only mine, but also my friend’s (Noise Market’s singer Jodi also reads a lot). I offered the coffee which was against dealt with a firm ‘no’.
By then the conversation had eased out and I think I was also woken up. I managed to convince them that I needed some money and I would appreciate if they gave me some money for the work that I had done. We rounded up to a nice sum which will be deducted from the actual amount at a later date and that was scribbled in a cheque and handed over to me. It was like my Christmas present without the Santa, reindeers, the cute sexy Santa-helper-dwarves and of course, Christmas!
It was such a relief that I forgot to pee in the morning. Okay, okay… I made this up entirely for recreational purposes. I’m a creative writer and I require that kind of space and freedom!
So, I was happy and relieved and felt like the little pieces of my life were falling into place again. After a brief roundup of news and my internet-footprint over a cup of black coffee, I was amused to observe that the effects of my good-fortune seemed to have crossed Sethusamundaram as I watched ‘See-wag’ and ‘Gam-bhier’ paste the ‘M’ duo around the Galle cricket ground. [Funda 3 of the day: This cricket stadium was a close witness and victim of the 2004 Tsunami as this ground lies next to the Indian Ocean.] The weather, too, was looking much better with the sun belting down on Mumbai. Without wasting my opportunity, I finished the boring chore of washing my clothes, put them on hangers to dry at the living room window. After a shower, I was ready to take on the world.
I spent the afternoon at the studio with the band. It was very entertaining with the conversation ranging from concepts for our first music video to bollywood gossip about the Khans and the Kaifs. We did all this chatter at a room beside the main control room where our dear audio engineer and his intern were mixing the songs. I’m proudly pleased to announce that it’s shaping up good!
As the evening started making out with the night, I cantered out of the studio feeling gleeful about the entire schema of my life. I felt that this money that I had just procured had unleashed me from my poverty, which had taken its toll on my lifestyle. I had actually stopped buying foodstuff like milk, vegetables and bread and had restricted myself to a diet with just rice soup and instant noodles with the occasional ordering-out from a cheap restaurant. Sauntering into the Reliance Fresh outlet with a guitar strapped to my shoulders and with an I *heart* NY T-shirt, I must have looked like a hippie rock star.
I indulged in some serious shopping ranging from groceries to shampoos to garbage bags. I think I must have had that glint in the eye of someone who just had sex or something because I saw a lot people staring at me. I don’t think that I deserved any further attention that normal despite the trimming and styling of my entire cranial hair that I had just got at a cheap saloon nearby. I even managed to get a seriously hot 32 and ¾ th-ish guy looking at me!
The walk back to the apartment was even more comic-o-bnoxious [in search of a better adjective here. Even Vinokur couldn’t help me out.] Add about 7 shopping bags to my otherwise rock-star look and you will coin some neologism yourself! I made it past all the reproachful stares in my apartment building where people make comments to each other about people like me in Tamil without even thinking of the fact that I might, just might, understand what they are talking about. The nerve!
Back home, it was time to spend a peaceful, satisfying, family evening with my husband/wife over Skype. You know, for those who don’t understand long-distance-relationships, it’s fun! We have coffee, meals with each other. We spend time with the other in the kitchen helping each other with our recipes etc. We spend time discussing art, books, music with each other. All of this thanks to Skype.
Today, Vinokur was not feeling great. He’s having sleeping problems yet again and to my dismay he has tried the tried-and-detested method of adjusting the sleeping medication according to his own judgement. I was unhappy and didn’t lose time in making my thoughts clear. Thereby, I again bring to light, the ‘Funda 1 of the day’. The sleeping medication that he’s taking is losing it’s potency to make him fall asleep. It doesn’t take an Einstein to figure out that by taking more of this drug will not affect the process of falling asleep in a person but will succeed in giving the adverse effect of excessive, prolonged sedation.
[Funda 4 of the Day] So kids, don’t try this at home. Don’t titrate your psycho-pharmaceutical drug without consulting your shrink.
And thus I come to the end of this post. I have a lot more stuff to write about and ask you people. I’ll put them as addendum.
- Do they have something like SnapShots (in WordPress) in Blogger?
- Does anybody watch cricket these days?
- Is anybody interested in music-related posts; say the review of an album or an artist?
- Am I too long-drawn and boring?
- Like flygye, should I list the characters on my blog so that readers could understand better?
- I’m thinking of a blog-post-chain where I want to sort of celebrate the amazing, thought-provoking Indian blog content that I have come across lately. Something like a mini-review appraisal of the blogs that I frequently read. Someone interested in doing that?
(PS: I think it's too long. Hardly any comments. Ergo, I'm ordering the last list. I'll also make it easier for people to comment by making a default template for comments. Here goes.)
Default Comment Template
- About the rant:
- Snapshots:
- Cricket:
- Posts about music:
- Long?
- List of characters:
- Posts on other bloggers:
Shrink: Part 2
I called the shrink tonight. I was greeted by a very heavy tamil accent in her English which sort of reminded me of my not-so-wonderful times at Chennai. We started with the ‘getting to know Kris’ section where I sort of repeated the conversation with my sister. When the conversation suddenly veered into ‘maybe Kris isn’t gay, he might be confused’, I switched cars; from a docile Maruti 800 to an aggressive Scorpio.
I vehemently, almost violently, made it clear that I indeed am gay. And that I have every right to be proclaiming my gayness. She asked me why I should wear it on my sleeve. I retorted ‘Can’t you and your partner, assuming that you are straight that is, hold hands in a train? Why shouldn't I be able to do that?’
I sort of sensed a sudden ‘taken by surprise’ element in her voice. She said that I could assume that she was straight and proceeded with the conversation. I found myself asking her again if she were actually straight or not. I didn’t get a clear answer because of the faulty Vodafone network.
We finally agreed to cooperate to try and help my sister get comfortable with my sexuality. I asked her if she could help my parents get to that same state. She said that she hardly knew me and she can’t do anything without meeting me. Fair, I thought. Unfair actually, when you think that you would have to travel all the way to Chennai and stay there for a few days to do that.
Come on! I can’t go and stay for a few days in Chennai! Anything more than a few hours in Chennai, is not recommended*,**. So, I directed her to my blog.
Since then, we have been exchanging e-mail regarding my wisdom in selecting an elderly, ailing partner. Needless to say, my vehemence has since then trebled.
(* Based on my personal observation. ** I'm very, very biased.)
I vehemently, almost violently, made it clear that I indeed am gay. And that I have every right to be proclaiming my gayness. She asked me why I should wear it on my sleeve. I retorted ‘Can’t you and your partner, assuming that you are straight that is, hold hands in a train? Why shouldn't I be able to do that?’
I sort of sensed a sudden ‘taken by surprise’ element in her voice. She said that I could assume that she was straight and proceeded with the conversation. I found myself asking her again if she were actually straight or not. I didn’t get a clear answer because of the faulty Vodafone network.
We finally agreed to cooperate to try and help my sister get comfortable with my sexuality. I asked her if she could help my parents get to that same state. She said that she hardly knew me and she can’t do anything without meeting me. Fair, I thought. Unfair actually, when you think that you would have to travel all the way to Chennai and stay there for a few days to do that.
Come on! I can’t go and stay for a few days in Chennai! Anything more than a few hours in Chennai, is not recommended*,**. So, I directed her to my blog.
Since then, we have been exchanging e-mail regarding my wisdom in selecting an elderly, ailing partner. Needless to say, my vehemence has since then trebled.
(* Based on my personal observation. ** I'm very, very biased.)
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