A year in Australia

It has been one year in Australia, difficult one year. I had arrived here in June 2015 with my family. I never thought I would every leave my country, I was just uncomfortable with the idea, I didn’t have the courage. Its not that friends, relatives and colleagues didn’t try to allure me to foreign lands but I was too afraid.

The first time I was clinically diagnosed with depression was in year 2005. Then after 2007, I usually had it once every year. Then in year 2010, I was hospitalized because of pancreatitis. I was afraid, very afraid. Then depression stuck with me like a shadow. At-least shadow leaves you when there is no light but depression never left me. I became hypochondriac or probably I already was. After being discharged from hospital life was in its regular track but 3 months later I had another attack that defeated my soul, and I feel defeated till date. The ephemeral nature of life became too obvious and too scary. My daughter wasn’t even 1-year-old, I was newly married and my parents were not very happy with my wife. The worries pierced its root very deep inside me and as it expanded I became part of the root, not that root was part of me that I could throw away. Doctors kept telling me, I had to be careful because pancreatitis were often fatal. Worse of all, mine was idiopathic pancreatitis.

Stays in hospital became frequent at-least twice every year. I felt bad when my aging father had to take care of me when by the rule of nature it had to be other way around. On one such stay at hospital, I became too worried about my daughter and wife. My wife’s brother and sister lived in Australia and her parents were planning to moving to Australia. It worried me because my wife was naïve, innocent yet couldn’t mince properly with the rest of my family. To me I was a culprit, I should have rejected to marry since I had depression. I had tried but my attempts were futile before my adamant parents and specially my mother. I thought I won’t live long, so the least I could do was to take my wife (and my daughter) to her siblings and that is when I decided I should move to Australia. Just two days after discharge from hospital, I had lodged a IELTS exam form at British Council in Kathmandu. Probably around same time next year I was granted the permanent resident status in Australia. It didn’t bring any happiness as my mother won’t even speak to me properly after I disclosed that I was planning to migrate. She was either angry or was crying, she had completely stopped talking with my wife. I being equally nervous and frightened at the prospect of leaving my comfort zone was in a confused state of mind. The day came and my father and mother seemed completely devastated. Tears started to roll in my father’s eyes as well and my mother was incontrollable. She worried that I won’t be around when she would die. Yes I inherit my hypo-chondriac character from my mother. I left home amid lot of tears and sadness.

The decision to migrate to Australia was a life changing event but it changed my life not for good but for worse. In this entire year I cannot recall a single month when I had remained well. I lost contact with everyone that I knew and who knew me. I struggled with depression every day, I struggled with suicidal ideation almost every day, cried almost every day. So far I have refused to contact my friends, my relatives. I do not remember the last time I used my facebook account, I do not remember the last time I wrote a proper email to my friend, I do not remember the last time I have properly talked with my family (at home). The exception is the first three weeks of December 2015, when things appear good for the first time. It lasted just for three weeks but that is all I have of the good memories here in Australia.

I arrived in Australia with some hope. I was happy for the first few days but everything came shattering down like a castle of sand. I have lost all confidence in myself, lost whatever self-respect I had. I have become literally hopeless.