I am a happy, independent woman. I have a life that I enjoy in my own way.
But when I look back at the journey that landed me where I am now, it still gives me a sudden jerk. It has not been easy.
I believe my story needs to be told because those who are struggling today need to know that hard times don’t last forever.
I was very young when I realised that my family had financial constraints. My father earned some money but it was not enough for my family to lead a very comfortable life. My mother suffered from bipolar disorder as well as other mental disorders, but diagnosis was not easy back then.
I was close to my paternal grandparents, but my grandfather passed away when I had barely entered my teens. I have some fond memories with him. We would eat cheese together and laugh at cartoons in the magazines. His death was a great shock to me.
My mother’s eccentricity often frightened me. Bipolar disorder can be terrifying for both the sufferer and those close to them.
There was very little awareness around mental health back then. Anyone going for therapy would be considered crazy.
I remember going to the mental hospital where my mother was admitted and being treated. I remember seeing her head shaved after she received shock therapy. For a child, it was very unsettling.
I could never connect on a very intimate level with anyone in my family — be it my mother, father or elder sister. My grandmother loved me but she too passed away when I was a young adult.
Growing up, I never knew what pocket money meant. In high school, I earned my own money through tuitions.
I had three friends I could confide in. Alice, Mansi and Sree (names changed) were my safe home.
My sister soon began showing symptoms of mental health issues, and soon enough, she too was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.
I ensured that my mother and sister got proper treatment for their conditions, but on an emotional level, I did not know how to connect with them. I was young and inexperienced, and found it hard to handle such difficult situations all alone.
Everything around me — my mother and sister’s unnatural behaviour due to their illness, and other issues — acted as deterrents to my wish to connect to my family, I felt alone.
I completed my schooling in my hometown Kolkata and then studied mathematics in college. Although I enjoyed the subject, by the end of my bachelors, in 1995, I was too drained out due to the pressure to wish to continue higher studies.
Besides, I needed to earn. My father was the only earning member of my family, but did not earn enough. My sister got married but soon separated with her husband and came back home with a child. I had to support my family.
I took up one odd job after another, but nothing seemed to suit me. In one of these workplaces, I met Rohit (name changed). He seemed like this lively, down-to-earth person, and we soon began seeing each other.
Marrying Rohit was one of the worst decisions of my life. Months into my marriage, I realised I wasn’t happy. Rohit was a good human being but not a good husband.
The details of what went wrong in my marriage are those that I wish to keep to myself.
I was an introvert and I could not fight back. I was scared of his uncontrollable anger.
He would go and stay abroad for months to set up a business, because he was not earning when we got married.
From abroad, he would not not contact me for months. Durga Puja would pass, Diwali would go by, and I would find myself sitting at home with my two adopted stray dogs, lonely and miserable.
I spent hours on my birthday waiting for his call, but it never came.
I had wanted a life of my own, I had dreamed of a family I could connect to, and the very thought of going back to my father’s place was unbearable. But here, I felt disrespected and demeaned.
I learnt what a demon helplessness can be, and what mental damage it can cause. Although I had Alice, Mansi and Sree, as well as a neighbour I could confide in, I was afraid to take the first step. Coming out of the life I had settled for was harder than it sounds. I felt like I had nowhere to go. I did not know what the way out of this maze was.
I went into clinical depression. I told nobody in my family about it. I saw a psychiatrist and was soon on medication.
That is when I decided that I had to be happy. I had to live. If being happy at that moment meant living alone, I would do that.
It took me months to wrap my head around the fact that I wanted a divorce, because I was afraid of the stigma. My sister was separated. If I too went back home, how would people treat my family?
Nonetheless, I got divorced and came back home. Every time I went out, I was troubled by my neighbours’ eyes following me. I was troubled by their questions.
During that time, my therapist told me that to pull myself out of the deep abyss, I must do something I love. I realised I wanted to teach.
My mother had passed away by then, so I had to look after my father, sister…
