by the fresh coconut

Mental health issues affect every one of us, whether directly or seeing a friend or family member dealing with them. The lack of appropriate dialogue about these issues is well known but remains a taboo in the British Asian community. The shame, misbeliefs and lack of fitting language all contribute to these misunderstandings. In light of the article shared above, I thought I’d share how my experience of anxiety has been as a BA girl.

I have long accepted that anxiety is part of me and my life. This acceptance has helped me get over any shame I have ever felt about it, even helped me clear up any misunderstandings I may have about why I am having panic attacks. But for my mother, it is an unfathomable sadness. She can’t understand why I am panicking or crying for no apparent reason. The thing is, there is no reason. But Punjabi isn’t a language that has words for mental health issues.

I still can’t sit down at the dinner table with my parents without feeling my heart palpitate and my head going light. Some days I can keep myself calm, others I feel the tears well up and I am unable to finish my meal. There is no reason. I don’t know why I feel this way, I just do. But after five years of this drama at the dinner table, my mother’s sympathy is waning. I can see that she’s trying but ultimately, all she can see is her twenty-something daughter crying at the dinner table for no reason. Sometimes she’ll question me about why I am feeling sad or whether I haven’t told her something. Others she’ll be angry with me for ruining dinner, for crying like a child and not being in control of myself. She’s not trying to be cruel; Mum just doesn’t know what to do.

What strikes me is that five years since these issues began, Mum still hasn’t been able to grasp what’s wrong. I’ve brought home leaflets explaining anxiety and depression in Hindi, had countless conversations in Punjabi but still she’s at a loss. Her advice remains ‘think good thoughts’, ‘there’s nothing to worry about, calm down’ or the age-old Asian mother solution to everything – ‘pray’. I have to say, none of these pieces of advice help.

Though I am in a position to expect sympathy from my mother, I can’t help but extend mine. I’ve used countless words to express how I feel – parishaani (worry), dar (fear), bechaini (restlessness) – but all of them require a reason. They don’t express the inexplicable rootlessness of anxiety. How can she ever understand what’s going on with me if she’s never experienced it and if there are no words to explain it? Even the leaflets from the doctor’s surgery were useless, telling her that there was a reason for my feelings. There is no cause for my anxiety. It just is.

One thing I can never forgive is her shutting me off from other people in my lowest moments. During my worst period of anxiety, she took me to the Gurudwara (Sikh temple). In hindsight, it is clear that it was more an act to comfort her than me. My face bore the signs of the days spent crying and Giani Ji (Sikh priest) noticed. His wife asked me if I was okay. As much as I wanted to take solace in telling someone how I felt and hope they had some words of kindness for me, I told her I was fine. Mum had expressly told me that I’m not telling anyone about my anxiety for fear that people might believe that I had been cursed.

But I’m not cursed. I’m just learning to control my anxiety issues. Hopefully, one day my mother will understand, too. However, I wish that I didn’t have to accommodate her misunderstandings into managing my anxiety. It’s emotionally exhausting to be in the middle of a panic attack and hear her shouting at me in sheer confusion. Being understanding about her misunderstandings is simply something I shouldn’t have to do.