COVID-19 Diaries #1 (18/03/20)

Almost exactly one year ago, I entered the worst depressive episode of my life. I was three and a half years into being stuck working at a call centre doing charity fundraising, having seen my morale, self-esteem and motivation beaten down into a pulp through the daily tedium of a job which provided me with no self-respect and years of substance abuse. I reached a point where I no longer felt like I could go into work or go out and meet people — and since I was paid hourly anyway, not going into work meant I no longer had the means to do even the most basic things other than survival, for which I was lucky enough to have parents to help me with. I had been in a similar way before, but this time it was worse than ever.

North London Bengali, writing about politics, culture, football and climate