Much has happened in my life of late, hence the lean blogging phase. I moved back to Bangalore in June; my cousin and her two little sons alongwith my aunt and uncle came down from the US for a long stay; I had no job till mid-August, so I was living up life; I bought myself a shiny new drum kit (it looks gorgeous) and the beginnings of a band could be seen; I was researching djembes and cycles; I signed up for kayaking classes; I landed a strategic planning job in an advertising agency of repute (what I wanted, for the uninitiated). All in all, I was having one heck of a life. The move back home seemed to be one of the greatest decisions I had made in the recent past and everything was lovely.
But the last couple of days have revealed a high tinny sound, the kind that occurs when a hollow vessel is hit. I am doing so much that I'm burning out, and burn out invariably leads to depression. The euphoric high cannot always be maintained and when it begins to flag and falter, then epiphanies begin to happen. I have come to realise how much of my happiness and my self-worth I am basing on what other people think of me. I am allowing myself to be moulded in their hands. My life feels empty and hollow and all that I am doing is nothing but noise, loud noise. I have bitten off more than I can chew.
So, what lies in front of me now? What course is my life going to chart? I see much depression in the days ahead, much moping around, where even the very thought of movement, light, gaeity, sound will hurt me and make life all that less worth living. I think somewhere in October, with great optimism and/or the appearance of another woman, I should be able to lift myself out of the familiar depression. But in reality, I don't see normalcy returning anywhere before November.
Sigh! Life is depressing. It's depressing that it needs to be lived.