I was the epitome of calmness. No incident was bad enough to anger me beyond control or impulsively. We underwent huge financial crisis and I lost my mom and dad, and of course, I cried like any child would, but I had a grip on myself and was back to normal pretty soon. I surely felt it all inside me, but I was able to study and work just fine.
It was only me and my brother and bhabhi at home now, with my parents gone. One morning, I woke up to find myself not in my bed but on the lobby bench. How did I get here? I was really puzzled. The next day, I woke up with a knife in my hand.
I and my brother were really worried. He said I used to get up in the middle of the night and go out. He was scared for my safety so he had double-locked the door. Angry at the locked door, I had picked up a knife from the kitchen. My brother tried taking it from my hand, but that just made me angry, so he gently put me in bed with the knife.
First we thought this may be some black magic or something paranormal, but later we decided to see a doctor first. We were sent instead to a psychologist specializing in sleep disorders, and she told me that I had sleep walking disorder. She said it was triggered by all the stress I went through, plus being a closed sort of person I did not confide in anyone and so it came out like that.
Slowly, in therapy I expressed all my doubts and fears and sorrows, and cried bitterly. But I got better. I slept well and gradually the sleep-walking stopped.