VOX
Visits
When depression triggers a new beginning
w ords Kariza Gonzales
It started out subtle.
Barely even there. It wasn’t this overwhelming feeling
like you see in movies or read in books—I hardly noticed it
until I felt it myself, I guess.
I’m not sure when it all really started, but it could
have been when my grandfather got sick. I remember
I took care of him almost everyday, staying up late at
night keeping watch, getting off work so I could go to
the hospital. He passed away that summer, and I guess
that was when it all began. I didn’t realize we’d met at
that point already, but looking back, I’m sure we did
meet then. Maybe I was just distracted with everything
that was happening. I was too busy being everyone else’s
support system I never really paid too much attention.
But that was when we first met.
I travelled a while after my grandpa passed. Out to
see the world, out to live life, out to chase adventure.
When I got back, things changed. Got a new job, met
new people, made new friends—and I’d forgotten about
that brief meeting, and my life just continued on. At
least for a few months.
When my other grandfather passed away I was at
work. I was barely seated at my desk when I got the
call. I left, went to my parents’ house, made sure things
were in order, and then left. We met again then. But I
was in such a hurry to get back to my life I didn’t really
have enough time to spare on other things. I just went
back to my apartment, back to work the next day, and
that was it. I didn’t even attend the funeral this time. I’m
sure we would’ve met there again, but I chose to work
instead. It may have been because I couldn’t come to
terms with the fact that I barely spoke to my grandfather
the last time I saw him. Or work was my escape. Maybe
I also didn’t want us to meet at that particular point in
time. I’m not sure.
Fast forward to a year later. Onwards and upwards, I
told myself when I found myself in a new role at work. I
was dating a guy I liked, I lost weight, and I was doing
something I was good at. My life was, outwardly, pretty
tight. But at the back of my mind I kept recalling all those
times we’d met. I could never understand why we met
when we did. But then I’d push the thoughts away. I’m here
now, aren’t I? Things were good.
Until they weren’t. After I got dumped, things fell
apart at work. Every single day was a struggle to face my
inescapably imperfect life. Then I found out that my ten-
year-old Labrador was sick. Like, I’m-sure-next-visit-the-
vet-is-going-to-ask-me-if-I-want-to-put-him-down sick.
(He passed before our next vet appointment.)
My life felt pretty much in shambles.
That was when we met again. And this time, I caved in.
I was enveloped in an embrace and I fell into it
without any hesitation. It was somewhat comforting, but
at the same time terrifying. I cried a lot and I allowed
myself to feel. It was finally the right time. It was no
longer brief meetings and awkward timings. We were
together. And I felt it – the overwhelming cascade
of passion, the turbulent storms of emotions, and the
starting out of a lifelong relationship.
My psychiatrist diagnosed me with Clinical
Depression and Anxiety Disorder almost two years ago
now. After I left her office, I thought to myself, how do
you start out after something like this? What do you do?
How do you start out after being married to depression
and anxiety?
Well… you just do.
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