I’ve been bunking from here, off late. Perhaps, it’s just my procrastinating self, which finally has begun procrastinating the self! Or, perhaps, the anti-social me is spilling into cyber me as well. I really don’t know.
For the first time in two or three weeks, today, I felt like I could breathe in again without anxiety fraying the weft of my heart. Packing a caring for a flu-ridden and teething baby; the house chores; the laundry, the work, the conference calls and the professional writing; became like this huge un- scalable hills and everything just about came tumbling down. Falling with a migraine-inducing clatter!
Depression, however fleeting, put me right up against the edges of things: the tattered cuff, the broken branch, mud-spattered roads. It stained my heart ashy, the color a clouded sky turns after dark.
Wide awake at night, each day starting out with tight breath and tears close.
I resent myself for not being the my version of a perfect mother, I resent myself for not being able to give my best to my work (which I like), to the school work (which I again like) and being that superwoman home-maker which is what I pride myself of being. And absolutely inadequate, non-creative as a writer! And resentment for self is the worst you can do for self.
Each of the muscles taut with tension, each joints screaming with pain and then this body housing the near-empty soul!
So, here I am. Nearly mad!
Copyright © Neerja Yadav