I feel like I can’t breathe.
I’m being swallowed by the immeasurable crowd of the Moscow metropolitan. People with ice cold faces and an inexplicable to me rush, run past me from both sides. I keep close to my mom, feeling like a helpless child. We maneuver so that we don’t clash with the people running towards us. The tunnels just go on and on forever. We finally pack ourselves into the train like sardines. I begin hyperventilating and soon after- mutely crying.
Nothing happened. It’s an average Thursday evening. Granted, it is the evening, thus it’s rush hour. Everyone’s off work and doing their best to cut time on commute, reach home and forget about this underground madness.
I cry because I’m tired. I cry because I felt defeated before, but for some reason decided to come to the city that doesn’t care for tears. I cry because I feel like I can’t feel joy anymore. I cry because I’m troubling my loved ones. I cry because I can’t take it anymore.
This event took place during my recent trip to Russia. I went to visit my dad in Saint Petersburg for a week, after which I took a train to Moscow where I reunited with my mom, who flew there on the same day.
I graduated in the end of August. Thankfully, it was my second and final attempt to graduate. Shortly after I got let go from my part-time job, reason being my ‘spark-lacking personality’. The best way to describe my mental state back then would be lost.
Upon witnessing one mental breakdown after another, my parents offered me to come back home for a ‘short break’ with a goal to rest and work on my mental health, but apply for jobs nonetheless. I was conflicted with this, but in the end I accepted their offer. I came home in the beginning of October and stayed in Moldova for 2 weeks. Mid October I flew north to Saint Petersburg.
I honestly didn’t think things would turn for the worst. The underground incident caught me off guard. I didn’t understand what to do with myself before, let alone after such a severe mental breakdown/ panic attack. I felt like I was drowning in my sorrow and pity. I felt destroyed, lifeless and hopeless.
I enjoyed my time reconnecting with my father and relatives, yet I’ve felt the absolute worst in my entire experience with depression. When the trip came to an end and I returned home, the numbness and never-ending sadness continued until the day.