For almost 8 years, I spent the majority of my
waking hours on my phone. I was becoming both mentally and physically ill, but
I was unaware of it at the time. I didn't have a lot of work to do. My
housework consisted of nothing more than preparing food and maintaining
cleanliness. After completing this in the morning, I had the rest of the day
free. I scarcely had any friends because I was new to the city. I received no
visitors, and I had nowhere to go. Going mall hopping was not a wise decision
because setting up shop in a new location always meant being strapped for cash
and going out meant spending money on unnecessary things.
Laziness
came in gradually. Most of the time, I'd be asleep. I began to feel sleepy, and
I was always sluggish. Fatigue began to set in. I couldn't get out of bed on
time. Every day, I would drag myself out of bed, cook, and sleep. On some days,
I would get up, feed the kids and my husband breakfast, and then go to bed
after they left. This went on for two years. I had realised that I was not
living a healthy lifestyle and that something was amiss with me. I was
diagnosed with thyroiditis after a few blood tests and became active again after the medication was
started. I was active in the sense that I had no choice. I was active in the sense that my sleep was no longer
inconsistent, but I was severely addicted to my phone. As time passed, I began
to make friends, but my social life was not active enough to entice me away
from the comforts of my home. My thyroid was never within normal limits. It was
always very high. In my heart, I always wanted I could have a job. And offers
arrived, but my husband refused to accept them, claiming that my health would
not allow it. I believed he was correct. I never imagined pushing my body's
limitations. In the end, I made myself quite fragile, which made me unpleasant
and snappy, and sadness crept in. I'd become
agitated about trivial stuff and get anxiety attacks, which I blamed on my
unpredictable eating habits. There were also times when I was sick with a
headache for a few days. There would also be moments when I would cry for no
apparent reason until my eyes swelled. My mood would change. I'd be happy one
minute and depressed the next.
This sort of behaviour, or rather, my illness,
has now started to affect my family. Frustration was settling in, and I started
to feel worthless. Finally, I called up my family doctor and confided in her
everything about how I was feeling. The very next day, my doctor came home with
a psychoanalyst. The psychoanalyst, with her talk sessions, pulled me out of my
depression. Today I feel as I have not felt in years. Previously, I would have
the sensation that tiny worms were crawling inside my head. Today I feel fresh,
renewed, and happy. I do not want to sleep, and I do not sit idle in my free
time. I am no longer snappy or irritated. I feel worthy, and my life is a
blessing. It was my psychoanalyst's idea that I should engage in some activity,
so I started to write blogs to share my experience. I am thankful to my
psychoanalyst for giving me a new life. I dedicate this blog to her. Thank you
for reading. Please share your views and experiences in the comment section.
