Five years ago, #SliceofGasant columnist Gasant Abarder was given a gift he didn’t want. It turned out to be the best gift that brought mindfulness, self-awareness and set him on a path of finding true happiness. Surprisingly, those gifts were anxiety and depression.
It was Sunday, 15 December 2019, when I had my first panic attack. I thought I was dying from a heart attack as I gasped for air. I was meant to be at a family event but chose to go home and be on my own. I didn’t want anyone to see my tears.
I started talking about my mental health publicly and it made quite a few friends and some family visibly uncomfortable. Privately, young men, some in their early 30s, were asking to meet under one ruse or other only to inevitably ask if what they were going through was normal – that is, feelings of depression or anxiety. Did they have what I have?
To cope, I indulged in buying football kits and boots. The rarer the item, the bigger the kick I got and I was encouraged by my psychologist to indulge myself. After all, it was a better midlife crisis coping mechanism than having an affair, buying a sportscar or turning to substances. Mine, by comparison, was fairly healthy and wholesome. And I played the game of football too – focusing my mind on one thing for at least two hours a week.