Blues

Publishing this post was like leaving myself bare naked for the whole world to see. It isn't like everyone I know are gonna read this. But still, the thought of making this public scares a part of me. So why did I still put this out? I don't know as well. But one thing I am sure of is that it isn't my business what people thinks of me, and it isn't their business to care what I put on this blog. And perhaps, I also wanted to share a little piece of myself too. So, read on.

A Fallen Visage

With A Little Spark of Hope

I wrote those posts from more than two years ago during the time my "moderate" episodes of depression happens almost everyday. Yes, I was depressed (Or maybe just sad. I don't want to insult those clinically depress people.) But I was sad and lonely, with no one to talk to. Too afraid of people, even friends, to judge me and too ashamed and scared to be misunderstood. Being away from family, close friends, and almost always being alone or the girl who were never chosen has, probably, taken a toll on me. Yet there was too much sadness and heartaches and sorrow, that sometimes, I don't actually know where it is coming from, but I still keep holding on to it, not knowing how to let go. I had to fight my own demons, and those profound inner turmoil just kept bottling inside me.

There were days when sleep is too elusive, so I would lay in my bed all night feeling miserable and rethinking my life, my brain swarming with thoughts, questions and doubts. Or hoping and praying, if only I could shut down for a while to cope up with my self-made difficulties. I would cry, sometimes with tears, but most of the times without. The tears were mostly inside, struggling to come out. Then I will go to work in the morning like my normal self, like what everyone else expects me to be.

But then, there were days when I would get high with hope and endless possibilities, with infinite depth that someday, somehow, all these alarmingly depressing and pathetic thoughts will go away, and I would finally learn how not to fool everyone, how not to fool my defenseless self.

I was at war against myself (maybe even until now), and hated it for always falling back to that destructive mindset. Rationalising was of no help at all: "I have nothing to be sad about. I am just making this up. I have a perfect life. I have a well-paying job that anyone would instantly want. I have a loving family, I'm surrounded with friends."

Somehow, over the years, I manage to cope up with my emotions better. Music was the biggest outlet and therapy I conveniently had. Writing and traveling also became an escape. There were still lapses from time to time. A guy I met told me on our first meeting that I was melancholic, the way I see things, the way I speak, my choice of music, my choice of words.

Perhaps I am. Through the years, deep in my folly and mundane sentiments, I fell in love with this melancholia; I fell in love with my own 'great depression'; but above all, I fell in love with my own life. It is because of these emotions that I learn how to channel my creative and passionate self. It is what fuels that inner fire within me. It may, or may not have shaped me into the person that I become and still becoming. Although I still have days when I struggle, gets sad and happy for no particular reason, I learnt to embrace my existence.

What all I am trying to say, in the grand scheme of things, is that we all go through something at some point of our lives in some varying degrees. Others feel it so intensely, whilst others barely feel it at all. It will always gonna be there—the sadness, the uncertainty, the pain and hurt, the anxiety. You don't always have to be strong. And if you cannot channel it through some other things and activities, talk to someone. There are people who understand. I understand. Reach out.

It is indeed both a blessing and a curse, to feel everything so very deeply.

Post-Script : If you happen to know anyone suffering from depression or anxiety, please talk to them. You don't need to entirely help them, but they just need someone to listen to, and someone who would understand.