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La Fontana: Seasons of Life

In the heart of Rome, there is a magnificent fountain. I remember riding by it numerous times, the year I spent in Italy.

I’d envisioned life a la Elizabeth Gilbert, putting on 25 pounds because of all the delicious pasta and pizza, falling in love with Italian guys, learning Italian and discovering my wild side.

What happened was just slightly different though.

This fountain, I found out in my second week there, is called the Trevi Fountain. Popularly, it’s known simply as the wishing fountain because of the water that gushes from it? It’s magic.

Day after day, as I rode by on that Italian classic, a Vespa, I watched people toss, flip and fling coins into the water. In earlier times, I would have been right there alongside them, not only throwing a coin but making sure to do it the right way, according to superstition and tradition.

The coin was meant to be tossed over the left shoulder only, with one’s back to the fountain. One coin meant one would return to Rome. Two meant not only a return to Rome but also falling in love! Three was the icing on the cake – the wedding cake because it meant a return, falling in love and getting married.

I knew all this. But not once did it occur to me to make a wish.

Because that’s what depression does.

It takes away your dreams, your desires and your wish to live life.

And I cannot even tell you how much worse it is when depression strikes a perfectly healthy, jolly-go-lucky young adult.

Italy was meant to be the trip of a lifetime.

It ended up being a year in hell.

The numerous times I rode past that fountain? It was on my way to the Colosseum. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.

What you probably don’t know, what even I didn’t know the first time I visited, was the ugly thought that gripped me like a vice, a claw around my heart. Jump.

Nobody would ever know.

Now, of course, it’s not that easy to just jump off the Colosseum. But that didn’t stop me from going back every day, looking for a way and at the same time, praying that I would never find one.

Because that’s what depression does – it makes you yearn for life and death at the same time.

I spent four seasons of life there – winter, spring, summer and autumn in Italy; grief, numbness, desolation and agony in my mind.

Did I recover?

Well, I wouldn’t be writing here otherwise. Suffice it to say though that it was one of those life experiences that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy.

Hmm. Scratch that. What I didn’t mention was this: the other side of depression is a light I’ve never experienced before. The depravity of depression lent a peek into the darkest corners of my mind. When I confronted the demons that lurked there, faced them head-on, they slowly began to dissolve – melting under the fierceness of my gaze.

Recovery was a hard road. But it happened only and only because I took the decision into my own hands.

I chose to yearn for life.

I’ve experienced a few seasons of life since then. If ever there was a transformational one though, it will always be this one – the season of the magic fountain.

Or as I learnt to call it in Rome, la stagione della fontana magica.
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