Something dark
Sunday, January 14th, 2007I actually felt sorry for myself.
I thought I was sad for the longest time.
It was hard to keep a smiling
exterior when everything seems so tiring. For sure, there were times when I
felt happy, when I was dancing the night away, but sadness always returns. I’ve
had been having too many bad dreams of late. They leave me exhausted. Like a
lumbering sloth, my feeble body feels so drained of essence. I’m so tired. So
infinitely tired of my fastidiously overactive mind.
I actually felt sorry for myself.
I was wrong.
There are worse demons out there
that would wreak far greater havoc. What is sadness compared to the chasm of
blackness night that besiege … the cheerless few, grasped so tightly in the
raptures of depression. Such an evil word. Seemingly harmless, a position of
the supposedly weak, of the spineless … yet only seemingly.
I actually felt sorry for
myself. Until I read an email from a
friend and I remembered.
“just want to see you guys before anything
happen to me again…….I am bleeding so badly internally, I could feel blood
flowing intermittently from my heart, lung, intensities, bone, veins”
“can’t grab hold onto any rope of light…..how i cried for the
lost of my authentic self……tears are rain upon the blinding dust of earth,
overlying our hard hearts….sadly i have no heart at all……….just a body
without a soul”
“my very existence is so theatrical that I think the audience as
well as the actors and actresses hope for an ending as soon as possible whether
is it for good or bad because they could either placed my trophy on the altar
or just bury it somewhere to envelope all it’s hurt and suffering”
I don’t feel sorry for myself
anymore. My sorrow is nothing. Indeed, it is even laughable, if not, outright
pathetic. I wish I could be there for my friend, a very beautiful friend both
within and without.
Depression. Despair.
Hopelessness. Misery. Desolation. Gloom.
I had used to think it was the
burden of the weak, those who couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t endure life’s tests.
Depression, in my obtuse mind, equated with anything from being simply unable
to pass an exam, to the perennial heartbreak or to a death of a loved one.
Everyone goes though these
obstacles and we grow stronger, and lead fuller lives. Anyone who couldn’t,
just needed a nudge in the right direction, a supporting hand to tide the
times. And if they couldn’t, they needed some hard love and a whack on the
head. These were weak ones. The crybabies.
I was wrong. So very wrong.
“Sadness is an emotion that we all feel at
times. It’s not the same as depression.”
“Depression (Clinical) is a state of intense sadness,
melancholia or despair that has advanced to the point of being disruptive to an
individual’s social functioning and/or activities of daily living.”
Depression makes you wake up
wishing you were dead.
Life becomes such a chore, such a
pain; it becomes fear itself.
To most, it makes no sense. It
didn’t to me and I’m sure to the countless millions out there, it doesn’t
either. But depression exists. It’s one thing to be sad and morose, its quite
another to be depressed.
Depression is a disease. It’s not
a sign poor character. It’s a disease.
Upfront, it seems like an easy
prescription. We’ve read in the papers, heard stories from friends, passed
emails of triumphant individuals who overcame all manner adversity. Support
groups, psychiatrists, words of comfort, yada yada yada … and if nothing works,
prozac … turning you into a zombie bereft of your former shell.
It isn’t.
I’ve been honored to share this world
with a few who have labored arduously years upon years in these wicked conditions.
To walk hand in hand, a privy to their daily internal wars … the silent crying,
the stifling emptiness, the … (words leave me) … It is heartbreaking to say
the least; to see them smile and cheer everyone on and yet silently keeping
their tragic strife within themselves.
I did not see weaklings. I did
not see lazy people who would rot in life. I did not see cowards.
What I see is strength. The
ability to try …, to try everyday, every single day to brush aside their woes
and move on with their lives … to get better.
And yet, it’s so hard so very
hard …
Imagine …
… choosing the stairs over a
building. Walking down those stairs and then simply willing oneself to trip, to
give oneself another try at life.
… standing by the pavement,
trying to find the courage NOT to walk blissfully in front of an oncoming bus
… sitting on the window ledge on
a daily event … not because of the urge to jump but rather finding solace in
being closer to death.
… going to sleep afraid, so
terrifyingly afraid of the next day … crying as you wake up … that you are
still alive. Life becomes fear itself, fear not of cowardice but of the sadness
that simply overwhelms, the heartbreaking forlorn that no one understands …
“All manner of hope lost
Only nothingness to live for
There is no meaning
Our mere existence being …
Simply a stain on the tapestry of
life.”
Insanity! … I’m sure many would
be quick to shriek. They’d holler from the rooftops:
1) Life is so wonderful, so
great. Don’t waste it.
2) There is so much more to life
to see.
3) You would only be hurting your
loved ones.
4) Don’t be so selfish. There are
others worse off.
5) Don’t be stupid. I expected
better from you.
And a thousand more “words of
wisdom” would flow to placate the afflicted mind of the troubled.
That’s was what I did. I used
those same words. It made sense to me.
Why be depressed? Why take one’s
life? I didn’t understand.
“I know that! Don’t you think I know
that!!??? I’ve heard all manner of it. I’ve gone through these same words
countless of times. I’ve tried and I’m still trying. But everyday, the
blackness keeps eating away at me and I’m fighting a losing battle. I’m tired …
so very tired to fight anymore.”
It’s been years but those words
still ring in my head.
I was stupid. I didn’t
understand,
I don’t think I’ll ever will.
Perhaps in our times of sadness,
we have encountered a glimpse of the cold world that my friends live in.
Perhaps in my times of being with them, sharing with them … I’ve learnt a bit
of the word depression … in their own words … perhaps …
I actually felt sorry for myself.
Such folly.
I am sad. But that is nothing.
We experience sadness but along
with it, the happiness of life in all its rich diversity.
Depression provides little of
that respite. There is only sadness and the constant struggle to find solitude
within the walls of the mind.
Everyday I wish fervently for my
friends … To see daylight in midst of the drudgery, the all-encompassing pain.
To hold their hands securely … in the cold unbounded night. And to, one day,
walk free … to see the welcoming sun as I do.
I will never ever abandon them. I
will always hold them closest to my heart. Not because they are unwell, not
because they need me to be there, but because they among the strongest, and
most wonderful people I’ve ever had the opportunity to befriend and in
consequence, touch my heart.
Apologetically, I fall short of
the superlatives to describe my dear friends who fight on … I pray they find
solace before darkness completely envelops … I pray that I will always be there
for them and selfishly … I pray that I will be strong enough.
Quote
“all I could do now is to laugh which is not of my own accord….I
do not need you to understand anything about my shrinkage just simply to say
every of my laughter bears my pain now”
