Expecto Patronum

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Depression is never "One size fits all".

It comes in various shapes and sizes,

Wearing different hues, textures and fragrances.

Simply put, it's like the dark mime was invited to your birthday party,

Instead of the colourful, cheery clown.

It often makes the world seem duller, 

And bends all of its curves and edges out of proportion.

The depressed, alone in  a crowd, often agree in unison,

Despite the facades, quiet whispers, pointing fingers and cognizant nods,

Their saddest loss is the progressive lack of everyday motivation.

Let me illustrate with my life, for instance.

At 10, Depression was the image of a crying woman on a magazine cover,

Her tears setting free the mascara from her eyelashes.

They streaked down like black rivers on her cheeks.

In an epiphany, I realized that the woman was a lot like me.

At 12, Depression was separation from my friends at school,

Realizing that I didn't matter to them once they were in a different section from mine-

That I could never fit in because I never belonged there to begin with,

Making me seek refuge in books;

My love for books was what saved me.

At 14, it was a teenager's curse,

A misunderstanding that left me convinced,

That my presence and absence meant nothing to my family.

I tried running away from my reality,

But returned to carnage at the place I once called "Home".

I understood that running away was not the answer,

I stayed, accessed the damage and started repairs,

Though I paid the prize with everything that I held dear,

Perhaps where there is ruin, there is also hope for treasure.

At 15, Depression looked like an over-achiever's nightmare-

Failure to score a 98% in my Board exams as promised.

Crying spells and angry outbursts wreaked havoc in my life,

I hid in my room, guilt-ridden and tired,

Finding solace in a coma-like sleep after too much food.

At 16, it was me being trapped in an invisible box at a new college,

An invisible wall separating me from the world, preventing me from making new friends.

But I also realized that the invisible wall had an invisible door that opened to a colourful world,

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me without looking back.

At 17, Depression was unrequited love.

He stomped on my affections because of my dusky complexion,

"I want a fairer girl", he said.

I would have asked the world to go to hell for him,

And he didn't want me because he thought I looked dark and dim.

I spent over six hours Googling "Are dusky girls beautiful?","Do men fall in love with dusky women?" and its various syntax rearrangements,

All to mend my broken heart.

The defining moment came when my Dermatologist, not withstanding my complexion-complaints,

Suggested chemical skin-brightening peels to put me out of my misery,

The idea of skin-whitewash to gain the affections of a man who clearly didn't deserve me was revolting.

I resolved that I deserved better,

That I would stay un-fair and still find love.

At 18, Depression was veiled as a bad career choice,

According to society, one that cost me a year of higher education.

I chose Dentistry even though it wasn't my cup of tea,

Because I wanted to be a medical professional so desperately.

It was a melancholic autumn and a bone-cold winter,

Every new day seemed like a clone of yesterday,

I spent 8 months coming up with creative excuses to not go to college,

Because I just couldn't bear to get out of bed each morning,

And then I finally admitted it to myself and sought a fresh start.

At 19, it was sacrificing a coveted seat in a prestigious college in another city,

It was everything I wanted- a chance to leave all of my misery behind,

A clean slate- a course of my choice in a different city.

But fate had other plans.

I learnt the importance of trouble-shooting and improvising when you hit rock bottom.

At 20, Depression looked like an angry, manic outburst from a teacher about a blog post,

Fueled by rumors and envy,

Sans any clarification and conversation,

A planned, ruthless massacre.

I learnt that perhaps all teachers don't belong on pedestals,

That their sale to the lowest bidder in the auction might have a cause.

I realized that the pen is indeed mightier than the sword.

I practiced living with Depression's uninvited cousin-

As Anxiety moved in with her dungeon of horrors.

At 21, Depression was Fear-

Fear of falling in love, suffering, lack of faith and an unwillingness to trust-

I despised leisure; indulged in excessive planning, overthinking and worrying,

Hoping that it would help me beat the unbeatable, avoid the inevitable.

But I looked at that Fear in the eye and fell in love irrespective-

Thus, fulfilling my prophecy of finding love again-

As I am. I am enough.

At 22, it was Life teaching me about who actually ran the show,

When all my meticulous planning for my future went awry despite my best efforts,

Forced to live in a different city,

Away from home and everything I love,

Doing something different from planned.

I vow to never touch anything with half of my heart again.

But I trust my efforts and I sense a bigger plot in play,

And something colossal heading my way.

At 23, I have learnt a repertoire of lessons,

Depression, Experience and Pain have been stellar teachers.

I have risen like a phoenix every time I succumbed to the ashes of circumstance,

I have learnt to appreciate every blessing, for if ignored, it becomes a curse.

My spirit has grown resilient and my heart, stronger.

I have learnt to love myself and to stand up for myself-

The power of self-acceptance and self-reliance.

I can do this. I have got this.

Though the Dementors of Depression lurk around the corners,

I have now mastered my Patronus--

And my "Expecto Patronum" is that much stronger,

Because of the constant practice of fighting these soul-sucking abominations.

Henceforth, when I am faced with the scissor of Depression,
Willing to cut me up into a million pieces-

I think I will duel with it more like a rock and less like a piece of paper.