CHAPTER 3: Outpouring

A Clueless Friend’s Perspective

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Sara put on her sneakers and got on her bicycle. She cycled down a few blocks to the park down the street, where she was to meet her two best friends. She saw a mop of brown hair speeding towards her. It looked like it had never seen a comb before. It belonged to Allesandro, who was cycling towards her just as she was about to enter the park. She slowed down, waiting for him to catch up. They waved at each other and rode together towards their spot. 

The path was flanked by tall trees with branches reaching out to the sky. The sun shone through the leaves, casting a dappled glow on the ground. As they cycled, the sound of leaves crunching under their tires filled the air.

They arrived at their secret meeting spot - a clearing in a particularly wooded area of the park, with a table and two benches. The table was made of wood, weathered and rough to the touch. It was once painted dark green, but most of the paint had long since flaked away. The benches were similarly rustic and sturdy, with some cracks in the wood. 

Ayesha was already there, slouching in her usual spot. Her eyes seemed slightly puffy, small and tired. Circling her reddened eyes were dark craters, tell-tale signs of poor sleep. She had her short hair parted sideways, in a sort of haphazard way. She looked even smaller than usual, somehow.  It was a warm day, but she wore her usual full-sleeve denim jacket anyway. Sara and Alessandro got off their bikes, walked over to her and greeted her. 

“Hey, Ayesha, what’s up? Are you okay? You look tired,” Sara asked. 

Ayesha inhaled deeply. “I don’t know,” she began slowly. 

She took another deep breath. Now the words came tumbling out of her mouth. 

“I’ve been going through excruciating pain. I've been crying so much lately; I break down for no reason at all! I feel like doing nothing but lying on the bed all day, like a useless potato. I don’t want to do the simplest of activities. I simply do not possess the energy to work, shower, or even eat! It's like a heavy weight is crushing me, and I can't escape it. I don’t know what to do!” She practically exhaled the whole monologue, as she scanned the others’ faces for their reaction.

“Wait, you don’t have the ENERGY to eat?” questioned Sara. 

The fact that Ayesha wasn't eating was not new. She often went days without proper meals and was always on some new diet or the other - trying to carve skin off her bones. But how could she not have the ENERGY to eat? Sara, being a foodie, couldn’t comprehend it. Food GIVES you energy, right? 

“You are not doing another one of your weird water diets, are you?” questioned Sara.

“Water diets? I thought that was a joke,” exclaimed an alarmed Alessandro, in his light Italian accent.

“No..no, that didn't work out at all. I just don't feel hungry, you know? I don’t even have the energy to chew!”

“Of course you won’t have energy if you barely eat! You and your fad diets!” Sara rolled her eyes.

“But they help you lose weight! Besides, I’m eating a healthy 1240 calories every day.”

Not this again! Why does she keep doing this? She had already spent countless hours explaining that beauty standards are worthless. Healthy 1240 calories? Where does she even read this crap? 

“Ayesha, you need space to hold your organs, remember? We can't have you fainting left and right.”

“You know who else has organs AND a 24” waist?? Gigi Hadid!” Ugh! Not this again! 

“Everyone’s bodies are different!!” Sara said, annoyed with her friend’s stubbornness and apparent lack of logic. 

Ayesha stared at the table and sighed. 

“I don’t know, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Aaargh! Why couldn’t she get through to Ayesha? 

Alessandro had been silent this whole while, staring into the distance, seemingly lost in thoughts.

“Ayesha, you know I’ve been there too. I can relate to what you are saying,” he finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I don’t like talking about it, but I want to let you know you are not alone.” He paused. “Are the exams stressing you out?”

Ayesha ran her fingers along the jagged edge of the table, contemplating the answer. 

“Honestly,” she began, still staring down, her gaze fixated on the table, “exams are the cherry on top, but I feel like EVERYTHING is falling apart. Homework is piling up, my grades are slipping, I can’t focus. The anxiety is just suffocating me, you know? It keeps growing and growing, feeding on everything. Everyone else’s lives seem so put together, but I can’t seem to do a single thing right! I feel so fat, ugly, and stupid! I’m such a disappointment to my friends, my family.” 

Ayesha’s stress levels seemed to be escalating by the day. She had changed so much over the last year. Sara knew there was no point in telling her she was NOT fat, ugly, stupid or a disappointment. They had gone over it a million times. But what WAS the right thing to say? She felt helpless, unable to conjure up any sort of response.

“Everyone’s sad sometimes,” Sara blurted out. “I’m sure it’ll get better.” 

Both Ayesha and Alessandro glared at her. That, apparently, was NOT the right thing to say. 

“Well, Sara,” Alessandro said. “There is a pretty massive difference between being sad and being depressed. Depression tends to stick around for longer. A lot longer.” 

Sara's ears turned brick red with embarrassment as she glanced towards Ayesha. 

“Uhh… Have you tried seeking professional help? I think that might be what you need.”

Ayesha frowned. “I don’t wanna go to therapy. How’s a complete stranger supposed to get me? It’s not like my parents would send me in the first place…” she said, bringing her eyes back to the apparently fascinating table. 

Sara was perplexed. After all, everyone she knew said therapy works. Besides, why wouldn’t her parents send her to therapy? She knew her own parents would send her at the first indication of something wrong. But if Ayesha’s parents wouldn’t send her, there was nothing to do. She remembered that time, a few years back when she and Ayesha tried so hard to convince Ramesh Uncle to take them to see Minions in theatres, but he did not budge. He could really be stubborn. But what alternatives are there?? Sara thought. She cursed her lack of knowledge about mental health. She wished she had researched more; she would’ve actually been able to help.

Sara turned towards Ayesha, who was now repeatedly stabbing one of the cracks in the table with a pocket knife. “Hmm, if you can’t get therapy, maybe try out other options? There must be websites and support groups and stuff.”

Alessandro nodded, “You could also try a helpline; They’re free and anonymous too. Y’know, I tried a therapist here, when we moved to India, and she told mom about…” he hesitated for a second, “y’know, stuff… stuff that was supposed to be secret! The thing is, I had made so much progress, but then she had to rat me out. It broke my trust in therapists.” Huh, stuff? What is this “stuff” he’s talking about? 

“There are supposed to be LAWS, but clearly, they weren't followed,” he added. They wouldn’t simply break confidentiality, would they?  Now Sara really wondered what that “stuff” was.

“Exactly!!! YET another reason I’m fine without therapy,” Ayesha said. She seems to have some personal vendetta against therapists. Why? All our friends who went had positive experiences.

”By the way, if you don’t mind me asking, what stuff were you talking about?” Ayesha inquired, putting Sara’s thoughts into words.

Alessandro hugged himself like a person stranded alone in a blizzard. He joined Ayesha in glaring daggers into the table, seemingly in some sort of intense inner battle. Sara hoped he chose to open up. They could help him through whatever it was!

“Um... I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Never mind.

 “Oh.., that’s okay, but if you wanna talk, just know we’re here. Anyway, I DID try a helpline. Two actually. One didn't pick up, and the other hung up. MID. SENTENCE,” Ayesha said, throwing her palms upwards in defeat. “Like, damn… not even helplines care about my problems,” she smirked, amused. “Even ChatGPT is more of a help than those helplines.”

Sara opened her mouth, trying to think of a response but Ayesha decided to pull the plug on the conversation.

“Anyway… thanks for listening to me, though. It is nice to know I can reach out to at least the two of you.”

“Of course, Ayesha! Don't give up! I know it seems hard, but it’s just a phase. It will end.” Sara smiled. It was cliché sounding, but what else could she say?

“End my life, yes!” Ayesha said in a sarcastic tone.

“Woah woah woah, what the HELL are you talking about!???” Alessandro and Sara said at the same time. Despite the sarcasm in her voice, she got the feeling it wasn’t a joke.

Slightly taken aback, Ayesha explained, “We can't just solve something that’s been festering and growing for half a decade now… Anyway, who will care if I just… vanish? Will anyone even notice me disappearing?” 

Wow… What do you even say to such a thing? 

“We will miss you, your parents will miss you, Floofesh will miss you, Ayesha!” Alessandro said, patting Ayesha on her back.

Ayesha was silent. Her eyes shone with tears.

“Don’t worry, Ayesha! You’ll be fine. You just need to get out of your head.” Sara stated, sounding flustered. 

Ayesha and Alessandro glared at her. Again.

Ayesha just sighed. “Nobody gets it only. Not even my parents. The other day my dad, he was so close to catching me in… an anxiety attack, but even my shitty panicked excuse was enough to deflate all his suspicion. And now…. I know you want to help, but I don’t think you get it, y’know.”

Ouch. Sara felt more sheepish than a flock of sheep.

Alessandro said, “Listen, Ayesha! We’re here for you. Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help.”

“Thanks,” said Ayesha. “How do you manage to get through when you’re feeling down, Alessandro?”

“Well…I don’t manage it that well. I do try out a bunch of things that my ex-therapist suggested. They help for a while. I put on some upbeat music, draw, or read. Journaling helps too. I used to get a lot of anxiety attacks. Whenever I felt one coming up, I tried to ground myself by mentally describing an object, counting backwards, or doing the five senses exercise.”

“What’s the five senses exercise?” Sara asked. 

“You know, the exercise where you list five things you can see, four things you can feel, three you can hear, two you can smell and one you can taste. It’s supposed to kinda ground you back in the real world.”

“Hmm,” Ayesha replied thoughtfully. Then she forced a smile. “Thanks, guys. It’s nice to have someone to talk to when it feels like my world is crashing down around me.”

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“How do you do it?” Sara murmured as she and Alessandro headed back home. 

“How do I do what?” Alessandro asked.

 “Well, you knew the right things to say to help Ayesha,” Sara said in a tiny voice. “How?”

Alessandro dragged his cycle behind her, struggling to keep up. “It’s really important to acknowledge her feelings, y'know? If someone brings up some issue, you can begin with ‘Want to talk about it?’” He explained.

“But what if they are talking about it, and they’ve explained their problems; how do you react? It doesn't seem to help when I offer actual solutions.” Sara asked, stopping at a circle junction where the roads neatly parted in two.

“They may not be looking for solutions, necessarily. Sometimes it’s just some empathy or connection. Could even be that they just wanna vent.” Alessandro answered. “You could ask them if there’s something you can do to make them feel better. Make sure to leave it open-ended. The best you can do is be there for them and listen to them. Validate their feelings. Be cognisant of them. At the same time, don’t bring attention to it all the time; they’ll talk about it if they want to.” 

Both of them stood at the fork for a bit. Thinking, waiting. The wind softly blew, carrying dry, crunchy leaves. “I should get going,” Sara said. “I have that Physics project to finish.”

“Do consider finding yourself another therapist,” she said as she rode off.

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