By spirit, I didn’t mean alcohol, nor did I mean to make any reference to the holy spirit. For those of you wondering what the holy spirit is, it is the finest of alcohol that gets you so high that you reach the pearly gates of heaven, where Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior and Tour Guide, greets you with his presence and takes you into th-No stupid! the Holy Spirit is God Almighty himself! Or was it Jesus? Or Father? What is going on here?

The Spirit of Depression

I had written about my solution to depression; the steps I took to ward off the dark mists of melancholy, and I was fortunate enough to receive a positive feedback from a student studying at AIIMS.

He said my article was downright misleading, and the only thing that could cure depression is medicine.

I proceeded to have a couple of exchanges with the guy, where he kept citing studies he had diligently gleaned from his textbooks. The thing that really pissed me off is when he had the nerve to say that if all it took to for my depression to vanish were the steps I had mentioned in my article, then what I was suffering from was “low moods”, not depression.

He stated that a person suffering from depression has something wrong with his neurotransmitters, and only the right medication could fix that ailment. I didn’t want to take his advice because this was until now, the greatest struggle of my life, and to have it downplayed to some “low mood” was deeply insulting.

But then again, he did put in the effort to explain a couple of medical concepts to shine some light on the matter, so the doubts started creeping in. I remember lying in bed at night, staring out of the window wondering, “Was I really depressed?”

Tell me Moonpie, was I?

Was I?

Its that one question that plunged me back into the dark waters of my past, where I relived those moments in my bed with the moonlight filtering in through the window, filling the room with a mysterious glow.

Oh wait, it was the streetlights, my bad.

I didn’t sleep that night. I laid awake till 4am, as my memories flickered onto the screen of my consciousness. Ruminating on the past opened up chapters of my life which I never knew I had, transporting me back to a time that once was. And there I was, strolling down the streets of memory lane, with nostalgia wafting through the air; like a fragrance calling me back home to a place that now only exists in my memory.

*sniff sniff* Hey, who’s cutting those onions?

Its the onions, I swear!

Its Funny Because…

I used to hate those times when I was in them, and shut them away within the recesses of my subconscious. My subconscious got a little creative and photo-shopped those memories of mine, adding a nostalgia filter into it. Damn you subconscious.

Then I came across a stench so bad, it made my want to throw up. Whoever directed this portion of the movie really needs to visit a psychiatrist.

I’d like to tell you everything from the start, but this guy over there won’t stop cutting those god damn onions, I mean whats with him? Is he planning to set up a food stall which serve only onions? I need to find another place, so I’ll cut my story short and start searching for one ASAP before he makes me go blind.

A Window Into The Past

Growing up I was a shy kid and didn’t have a lot of friends, and to add to it, my parents weren’t exactly happy with each other. I had the worst of both worlds.

This really screwed with me and I developed some pretty neat anti-social skills that allowed me to experience true loneliness. The situation back home got worse, and they stopped talking with each other. I had some issues myself as I became a teenager and with the things going on back home, I became depressed.

Did I say depressed? I meant I started having “low moods”.

Low Moods, Not Depression

This low mood followed me around like a black cloud, killing whatever joys I had and flooded me with negative thoughts as it rained down like knives onto me.

I didn’t see the point of living.

The pain was so intense and wouldn’t end.

The feeling of emptiness, and the pain that came from having a hole buried deep into your chest was enough to make me consider leaving this world behind. I’ve thought about it obsessively, but luckily, didn’t put any of them into action. I did compile a list of ways to kill yourself though. It was a project I worked diligently on; I hope you like it!

I reached a stage where I didn’t want to get out of bed. The pain I experienced from waking up was too intense, and I went back to sleep, hoping I could at least experience the things I wanted in my dreams. My health deteriorated, and whenever my mother would come to visit me, she’d tell me how thin I had gotten, and that I ought to eat something.

Even hunger couldn’t stop me from going back to sleep. I had so much sleep that I couldn’t go back to bed and would simply lay there awake, thinking of what I should do to get rid of this pain.

I just wanted it all to end.

I guess these are symptoms of “low mood”, aren’t they doctor?

Thats right! Now make Big Pharma bigger by buying those anti-depressants!

Long Story Short

I got into a fight with my uncle and moved out of his house and started living in a hostel. That’s when I entered college and things took a turn for the better. I diverted from my nosedive into oblivion, and sped along a different course. There I signed up for a gym nearby and it was the wakeup call I was looking for. Words can’t even begin describe just how MONUMENTAL that was. Entering into a new environment, meeting new people, and working out. This fast forwarded my recovery and growth, but I will admit, I was still suffering.

The only difference, I could handle them now.

My low moods that is.

I spend whatever time I had working on myself. My body started to get in shape, and it positively affected my mind as well. The mind and body are linked, if one of them suffers, the other does too. As my body got better, so did my mind. I could think clearly, and stopped looking for a way out. But nothing could stop me from looking for a way out of class because of how dull and boring they were.

I started drawing again, and it brought tremendous joy into my life. I always loved to draw, and I’d lose track of time when I’m in that trance. Creative expression has a way of quelling the seeds of “low mood” from sprouting, allowing the soul to breathe and flourish. I’ve thought about dancing and singing, but decided not to. I’m no good at it. I bray like a donkey and dance like an epileptic, and I doubt anyone is comfortable being anywhere near an epileptic donkey.

Knowing I could create something beautiful with my very hands, was all the therapy I needed.

I still had my random bouts of depression, but they didn’t visit me as frequently as they once used to. It would happen when I didn’t get enough rest, or had too much stress to deal with. I spent most of my days enjoying my time there at the hostel.

Now, you’re probably wondering why I decided to title my article the way I did, be since the story you’ve read so far didn’t have any direct reference to the topic. I wanted to drive one point home, that point being I really did suffer from low mood. All those thoughts of suicide and killing everyone in a fit of rage; it stemmed from my low mood. I used humor to crunch my sadness into momentary happiness, but since I could do that, my neurotransmitters were relatively good shape, so it isn’t depression. Its only when those neurons are so damaged that you can say
that you suffer from depression.

Like the Dead.

I can understand why they’d be depressed, not only do they have to spend the rest of eternity boxed up into a coffin, those maggots have stripped them of their flesh and everything. Their brains are damaged to the point that they aren’t even there anymore. Its probably in one of the maggot’s tummy now.

At least I don’t have it as bad since I’m still alive, right?

Don’t worry, I will do justice to the title starting from the next paragraph.

Low Moods!

Don’t get me wrong, Doctors are great. Maybe not as great as us engineers, but still they are No.2 on the list.

They’ve saved countless lives from illnesses, diseases and improved our standards of living. A husband doesn’t have to worry about his wife having to experience any complications during childbirth. He knows she is in the good hands of an obstetrician who will ensure the safety of both, his wife and of their newborn.

Illnesses that have plagued us for centuries are now understood on a microscopic level, and dealt with using the power of science, without making any reference to the long bearded old man, loitering about in the clouds.

Doctors serve an important function in our society.

Its not like I didn’t want to visit a doctor, but I knew what I was headed in for. I’ve voraciously consumed anecdotal content online of people talking about their experience with anti-lowmoodants. They say that it relieves them, but it becomes a crutch that they can’t live without. For some, the dosage keeps getting higher and higher because their body becomes resistant to it. They need more of the stuff to get through the day.

I didn’t want that. I wanted to develop the strength of fortitude to handle it on my own. You’re not a diabetic who needs his insulin tablets or injections, but doctors make you think that’s what you need.

Here’s something you need to know about diabetes. There are two types, one that requires insulin tablets, and the other that requires direct insulin. If you’re dependant on tablets, you are a Type-2 diabetic, and if you are dependent on insulin injections, you are a Type-1 diabetic.

For Type-2 diabetics, they don’t necessarily need those tablets. Exercise and diet alone will maintain their insulin levels, but that requires tremendous effort and discipline to achieve. If you’re a Type-1 diabetic, then you have to take them since your body has stopped making insulin. That requires medical help.

Sometimes, you aren’t left with much of a choice, but most of the time you are.

But most diabetics pop pills like candy. They take the easy way out, thinking those medicines are magic bullets. They aren’t.

At best they are band aids used to decelerate the Titanic from sinking.

If there is something you can do about your condition, you should do it.

Let Me Tell You Something

You’re not the first one to experience depression. Our ancestors have had it, and it will do you good to read through what they did to relieve themselves. Most of them wrote about it, pried into it and discovered subjective truths they’ve been running away from.

Believe it or not, there is a reason for your depression. Depression isn’t the problem; it is the symptom of misalignment. That can sound deeply insulting, because of how strongly it influences you, but it is. You need to discover that first.

What do you therapists do? They talk to you about the problems you are facing. They know for a fact that its not whats on the surface that’s bothering you, but what is on the inside that does. They make incisions into your head using their sharp questions as scalps, and probe into the dark mysteries of your subconscious; to draw your awareness towards them. They spend days, or even months asking you to visit him so that you will gradually open up and take him along into the treacherous waters that house your demons.

So anytime I come across a medical expert dishing out advice, I remove the human and look at the material. And what I discover is the material is non-judgmental with clean inferences. He merely records information and draws conclusions from them.

Medicine is a science. It isn’t a religion that burns people at stakes, or a state that euthanizes its citizens, it is a philosophy that safely made its way into the realm of practice. There are some alternate medicines that have too made its way into practice, which hide and profit under the shadow cast by people’s suspicions of
doctors and their practice of medicine. More on that later, in a coming article.

Why Do They Perform So Many Procedures?

Doctors are trained to bark, “medicine medicine!” every time a patient walks in for a very good reason. Picture this, say a patient is suffering from something truly deadly, and visits a doctor named Phil who is chill about his work. The patient shows symptoms of cold, sweating and headache, so he writes him some paracetamols off as prescription, and tells him to get plenty of rest. Few days later, the man winds up dead. On conducting an autopsy, its discovered that the man was suffering from malaria. That strips the license clean off of chill doctor Phil, and he falls into depression. Chill doctor Phil, is now Depressed Ex-doctor Phil on suicide watch.

The media would be on this 24/7, conspiring to crucify not-so-Chill Phil at a stake mounted on top of Big Pharma’s corpse.

The don’t want to take such a risk which is why they run you through all those tests to screen out any symptoms that are not noticeable to the naked eye.

This looks…dangerous. Medicine! Bring in the MEDICINE!

But that doesn’t mean that you need to gobble up all those medicines, especially when dealing with depression. Try what I’ve painstakingly written down for you, put it into action and if it doesn’t work out for you then by all means, hook yourself up to them, and try what I’ve written AGAIN.

Read people’s experience with them online, and make your own decisions. It will shed some light into your problems and potentially save you the trouble of having to figure it all out on your own.

Either that, or you could use some “Strength of Spirit” and meet our Lord and Savior.


Despite my banging on about taking a detour from the medical route to solve your problem, I admit, I did take a medicine. It’s a special kind of medicine that medical practitioners are unaware of. This isn’t a follow up into some esoteric revelation of “thyself”, I actually took a medicine, that I will write about in the coming few posts.

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