Tag Archives: depression

A Mother – In Life & In Death

Suicide Series 3

A neighbor of mine recently killed herself. She was around forty, has two kids and was separated from her husband. I knew her a little. She wasn’t a friend, but was more than an acquaintance (there really should be a word for that). I used to wave to her every morning, as she brisk- walked around the colony and I zipped past her with my kids in the car, in a mad dash to make it to the bus stop on time – pretty much a daily morning routine for us both.

And now she’s gone. She decided to exercise the exit option, something that has been topic of hot debate in our otherwise sleepy little colony. Unsurprisingly, she’s being judged by all and sundry, irrespective of their closeness to her. A suicide evokes everyone’s opinion, especially if the person in question was a mother. So the leitmotif, so to speak, that binds everyone’s judgements is that she had no business killing herself because she was a mother. Why she did it, or the fact that she was depressed to the point of suicide is not something anyone wants to deal with – she had kids, so she owed a responsibility to them. That’s that.

Sure, I agree that parents ought to be there for their kids. I’ll get to that shortly. But, before that there is a larger point I want to make, which is about the woman herself, about her own desires, her needs and her wishes. We expect mothers to be superhuman, to never tire, to indefatigably battle all emotions, all odds, all the time, irrespective of their nature and intensity. That’s the mother we put on a pedestal, and there she must remain – any sign of her stepping down and we start to lament, to question the sanity of her mind, to wonder how she sleeps at night (she probably just passes out) .

The truth is that when this incident happened, everyone in the society was only interested in knowing the gory details, in assembling in corners and talking in hushed tones, and then announcing their unsolicited opinion. It’s what we like to do – to judge, to take a stand, to climb onto our self-made pulpits and announce our verdicts, which we see as extremely logical and reasonable. We don’t like to answer uncomfortable questions or face the truth. No one really understood why a mother would kill herself. We judge a woman in life and in death. She is not free to even die on her own terms. I feel terrible for her kids, but, somehow, I don’t question her decision. What I do wish was that she had not reached that point, one where life looks too dismal and bleak, when the thought of waking up and taking on another day seems like an insurmountable burden, when the walls close in on you and you just want to end the trauma that is life. That’s what depression does to people. Yet, it was hard for people to understand that she simply ran out of steam. She had kids, is all they chanted, in unison, almost like they’d rehearsed it.  I didn’t bother to try and make them see her point – because they seemed to lack the bandwidth.

Also, there is another aspect to this. As Indians, we don’t really accept depression as an illness that needs addressing, let alone medication (exceptions aside). We believe we don’t need shrinks because that’s really for the “westerners”, who don’t have families to fall back upon. “Our Indian families are structured to provide emotional support to each other” – said my aunt once, whose son was diagnosed with depression. For years, she waved it off that finding as nonsense, till she was forced to accept when his condition got worse. I am not so sure I buy into the whole Indian-family thing. I mean, sure, we’re close/er to our parents than some other parts of the world are (though by saying this, we are implying that our definition of closeness is the accurate one- it could mean different things to different people, but that’s another post). However, even if we believe that Indian families are closer knit than the western ones, it does not mean we don’t feel depressed or that we always share everything with each other. I would actually argue that the average Indian woman is a lonely one – she toils at home and sometimes at work too – all day. She is never really asked how she is feeling, or what she is going through (a few cutesy television ads aside, this is the grim reality for the average Indian woman). She lives among constant, unending and enervating chaos –  the husband, the kids, the assorted in-laws, the house issues – she handles all of it, and she does it at her own cost.

The term lonely housewife applies to the Indian woman as much as it applies to any woman from around the world. A housewife is surrounded by people, and yet she is lonely. Often, her only real friends are other women like her, who she befriends here and there – in her colony, at the market, at parks, as she tends to the needs of her home and kids – and they develop a strange connection, an enduring I-hear-ya-sister kind of bond.

Anyway, to come to my neighbour and her kids. I believe that wanting kids is a selfish need and once we give in to that need, it becomes our duty to be responsible for them. But life’s not that simple. Parenting is hard and nothing prepares you for it. Not the child’s mistake I know, but if there’s one thing I have learned about being a mother is that parents are humans but we don’t expect them to be. My neighbour was a human who just gave up. Call it cowardice, selfishness, what you may, but she could not go on. No one saw the warning signs, because, as another tactless neighbour remarked, “why would she want to die? She had kids, but maybe she was insane”. Well, she was not insane, nowhere near it, but she was alone and that can be hard. If only someone had stepped in and helped her, that was probably all she needed. Her kids now face a life without a mother, but it did’t have to be this way.

I am, once again, reminded of a quote from Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique. She was writing about American suburban moms in the thirties, but what she said applies to women around the world, even today.

“Each suburban wife struggles with it alone. As she made the beds, shopped for groceries, matched slipcover material, ate peanut butter sandwiches with her children, chauffeured Cub Scouts and Brownies, lay beside her husband at night- she was afraid to ask even of herself the silent question– ‘Is this all?”

I have often been afraid to ask myself that very same question. The answer can sometimes lead you down the wrong path..


Filed under mommyrage

Vitamin B12 Defeciency. A Scary One This.

I seem to be surrounded by women suffering from a vitamin B12 deficiency. Not kidding – mom, sister, friends, acquaintances, obscure aunts – you name them. It has unsettled me enough to want to get a blood test done of my own (I am certain I will be deficient, just know it!) So will a lot of you, by the way. It’s more common than we think.

The ailment was unknown to me till just about a year ago. I mean I sort of knew about B12 in a vaguesh, distant sort of way, but not more than that.

Then, all of a sudden almost every woman around me seemed to have only one problem – a B12 deficiency. This thing was like an epidemic, like it was airborne or something. I kid you not. Even friends I had not met in ages (and frankly even forgotten the existence of before they sent me chirpy messages on Facebook and I felt pressured to accept) seemed to have only one complaint (ok not only one, there’s always the maid crisis that binds us all, here in India – when I say us I mean people like us – well off, affluent enough to afford help) but apart from that one chronic problem, there was B12. Someone I know now has a neurological disorder because her B12 deficiency went undetected for too long. Another close friend had to recently take B12 injections because she was so low in it that she could not get out of bed without a yelp.Yet another friend was so depressed I had to talk her off the ledge and turned out that she too had a deficiency. She’s MUCH better now after the suppliments.

As about sis, she’s been plagued with migraines, aches, general weakness and of course depression for, well I can’t even remember for how long. Long enough to be worried I guess. I’ve been telling her to get her B12 checked. I freely impart this newly acquired knowledge to anyone who complains of anything and cares to listen (seriously – B12 has also been linked to heart trouble, cancer, Alzheimer’s, stroke – the works)  But sis being sis and working like a zombie from morning to almost morning was not in a mood to be lectured, which by the way I didn’t do, but that’s what my unsolicited advice felt like to her. Also, she usually calls me from the car on her way back home from work when she’s stuck in traffic and her daughter is waiting at home. She’s not at her best, understandably, at this time, so anything anyone says that even remotely resembles a sermon, she rejects outright, usually with sentences like “you don’t know how tired I am. I don’t have the time to go to the doc”.

Anyway, long story short, after a couple of fainting episodes, rapid pulse, rushing to the Emergency at the hospital etc, she sort of got the point about the usefulness of doctors in life. She got diagnosed with high blood pressure and  was being treated for that but her pains just would not go. I gently brought up the point of B12 again, to little avail. Most physicians seem to miss this rather obvious possible cause for body aches and other ailments. So her B12 kept dipping and headaches kept getting worse (there’s also migraine in the family, so that helps!!) and her blood pressure kept rising due to the headaches. The doc kept upping her medicine which gave her palpitations. Agh. I, of course, never let go of my rant, but who listens to siblings who are not doctors? 

So now it’s finally come up. She went for the test (don’t  ask) and guess what? Her B12 is so low that the doctor fell of his chair and wondered how she’s up and about. When she called me I wanted to say soooooo much, but of course I didn’t (i knew that was not the time).

Now my mum has been diagnosed with the same thing and has to take nasal sprays to get the stuff into her blood stream quickly. She has a vitamin d3 deficiency too,which is the other point I want to make. This too is low in a lot of people and somehow never gets discovered. My older daughter has it too and is on supplements.

So if you have a chronic, inexplicable condition and can’t quite understand why you are feeling this way, you need a vitamin B12 and D3 test. If you suggest this to a doc he/she’ll give you the are-you-the-doc-or-I look, but never mind that. Do the test anyway if you feel you should. I am going to do it this week.


Filed under mommyrage