It’s been two and a half years since I was diagnosed with Clinical Depression. No therapy seem to have worked enough to keep me afloat, until I discovered writing. Well, “discover” isn’t the most accurate word of course. I’ve been journalling since I was eight. Blogging my journey through this despairing diagnosis had bought new meaning in to my life. I met new friends who were like me, and that somehow made things a bit more manageable.
In my blogs to come, I will share thoughts, and insights about life through the eyes of a clinically depressed, how I see my days as they come and how I continued my practice as a medical specialists, and a critical care physician in one of the busiest hospital in my country. There’d be times when I’ll be writing about giving up, and ending it all. I have always been considered as a dark writer, a deviant in the world of the written art.But it will not be in my darkness that I’d want my readers to dwell, but on the flicker of light, the undying hope that always persist amidst my darkest, coldest struggles.
Time would still move amidst the existence of tragedies, and I learned that even in my slow motion moments, I had to keep phase with the world. I also learned that isolation is not protection. We have to reach out amidst the fog, and the stories we share to humanity still counts as wisdom. It is my quest that my stories would touch hearts. That it would somehow educate the world that depression has a face and a story to tell, lessons to share. And inspite of the haze and dark clouds that perpetually shadow us, we are just like you, wounded, broken, but by no means stricken out of the game.