Exploring the Intersection of Writing, Mental Health and Self-Publishing: Who am I?

 

Citizen by Descent
Written by Kritika Arya

Writing is hard. Everyone tells you that when it's your chosen career path. Writing a book is even harder. No one has any qualms with reinforcing that belief. Trying to redraft a book with mental health issues? Good luck, they say. It’s slow and almost impossible. And self-publishing? Forget about it. You need to avoid it like the plague. 

Did I listen to everyone or anyone? If I had, I wouldn’t need to be writing this blog to market my debut book.  

So where do I begin? Well, every year, I think to myself, this is the year that I am going to know who I am and love who I am. And every year, I get thrown another curveball. This year’s unexpected event came when I tried to apply for my first voter ID in India. I spent a good 45 minutes filling out the form, running back and forth, fetching details in order to accurately identify myself and it was all going swimmingly well. Until… I reached the end of the application where I had to declare that I am a citizen of India and my birthplace is in India which is where I was caught off guard. I was born in Sharjah, U.A.E. and there were no other options for birthplace. Why, you ask? Well, I’m clearly not the person with the right questions or answers. I stared at the screen for the longest time, not knowing what to do. I quickly checked my options and saw that I could fill out an ‘overseas’ voter form. However, a quick scan of the sections made me realise that I needed to have a residence visa for another country and I didn’t have that as I currently live in India. If I still lived in Dubai, I probably would have received my voter ID within days. But I don’t and I didn’t. 

I’m sure there is a way to work around this issue but it involves calling several people and probably dealing with it in person. I don’t think India ever factored in that citizens who were born outside of India, would ever come back to live in India and vote. I’m trying to sort it out but it’s also my fault for leaving it so late. 

To be honest, I am no stranger to convoluted applications, endless paperwork and having to use the ‘normal’ option instead of Tatkal (fast-track option for ‘true’ citizens only) for any process. Ever since I moved to India in 2017, things have always taken a bit longer for me. Even renewing my passport in 2019  took weeks which did not help my anxiety, not even a little bit. My passport and my anxiety are the only two constants in my life, take one away and I am incomplete. As a result of that entire debacle, I'm now permanently carrying around a can of worms in my brain, which even managed to get their own essay in the book.

So why did I move to India? To pursue a career in screenwriting, was a very ambitious plan for someone who didn’t know a single person in India who wasn’t related to them. However, I’ve managed to bumble, fumble and grumble my way through it all. But even after six years, I am still treated as an NRI (Non-resident Indian) for several reasons such as my accent, my poor India-related geography skills and my abysmal Hindi conversational ability. I have an Indian passport but it doesn’t seem to mean much when you don’t spend your formative years here. However, I did my formative years in the U.A.E. and still don’t have anything to show for it, except for a few cancelled and renewed visas. It’s rather confusing if you ask me. All of it left me asking the age-old question: where do I belong?

I thought I was getting close to answering that question and then 2020 hit everyone like a tonne of bricks, the world changed. Suddenly, we were all stuck, nervous and possibly doomed. I was alone for 10 months in my one-bedroom apartment in Bombay and for the first time in a long time, there was no pressure. No pressure to earn money, to work, to socialise or hustle or get my name out there. I started living for myself and became the most productive version of myself. I was cooking, cleaning, working, writing, actively in therapy, and even learning new skills. I was doing it all…for me. I even gained the confidence to approach artists on the internet to collaborate on these random pieces of writing with no goal, other than to write and create for myself. It slowly evolved and organically turned into a project that felt bigger than I could have ever dreamt of. We all came together because of our collective need to define “home” in any way possible, especially during this period of uncertainty. It took me down memory lane where I thought about every physical space I lived in and how my anxiety moved in with me every time. I used these spaces and the various emotions that were carefully intertwined in them to explore the many moments in my life to understand who I was, who I am and if there was more left to be found.

For three and half years, this book has been the main focus of my life. During this time, I have dealt with many emotions, rejections and setbacks from artists, publishers and even distributors. You name them, they’ve probably rejected it which is not ideal for someone who takes rejection so personally. It’s even worse when the book is about your life and someone just doesn’t believe in it or connect with it. Even the publishers who were interested wanted to cut costs and thought it was too expensive to print for a novice writer. But after many many many many hiccups, for some reason I wasn’t giving up and kept pushing myself out of my comfort zone and trying to find plans A, B and C. On the days that I wasn’t capable of doing so, I rested and if it went on for too long, I had a supportive network that would drag me out of bed. And what do I have to show for it now? Maybe not a fully-formed identity but I do have a fully-formed debut book available for purchase. 

Everyone was right. Writing is hard. Writing a book is harder. Writing with mental health issues is the hardest. And self-publishing is completely debilitating. Making yourself heard in this climate when there is so much chaos, confusion and commotion feels arbitrary and unnecessary. They were right. This should have felt like my proudest moment but every step of the way, the odds have been stacked against me and now I’m a little tired.  

Do I regret the choices I have made? No. Do I wish the process was easier? 100%. Am I grateful for all the people I have met and collaborated with along the way? Absolutely, as it gives me a glimmer of hope in humanity. 

So now what? I have to constantly remind myself that I wrote this book for myself. I published it for myself. That’s all that matters. However, if even one person relates to it because they too have felt out of place or don’t know where home is or had their mental health issues impede their progress, then that would be incredibly rewarding and reassuring. In a sense, I would think my job here is done. For now. 

Citizen by Descent is a collection of autobiographical essays about home, mental health, identity and being a third-culture kid where each essay has been illustrated by artists from around the world. It is now exclusively available in the GCC on Books Venue:  https://www.booksvenue.com/citizen-by-descent.html