Thoughts of a nobody
Aug. 22nd, 2014 09:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wicked3659I had been thinking about making a real life update post for a while but then the world seemed to explode into a torrent of misery and heartache and my thoughts and my tribulations no longer seemed worth mentioning. Then I thought about it for a while. Why weren’t my worries and concerns worth voicing out? Why do I have it so ingrained in me that my voice is not worthy of speaking up? That my thoughts and feelings on personal and global issues are not worth expressing?
Then Robin Williams died. I cried a lot. More than I cried for my own Dad when he died. I didn’t really cry for my dad until 6 years later for reasons that aren’t relevant right now. Robin Williams a man, who, in death, I had more connection with, more in common with than I ever did when he was alive. That’s not to say he didn’t move me, make me laugh, make me cry. He did, so much. My favourite film of his is; ‘What Dreams may Come’. I cry everytime I watch it. It explores, death, the afterlife, tragedy, depression and suicide.
Depression, suicide.
It is in these two things that gave me more in common with a man I had never met than anything else he’d ever done. That’s not to say I understood him. Nobody can say they knew what he was going through because the only person who knew, is dead.
I decided, after sleeping on it that I was going to make a real life post, and I was going to centre it around depression. I’m still in Singapore for those wondering, coming up to almost two years here. Things haven’t all gone exactly to plan but it’s a life, I have a new plan and I just need to keep my head down and working towards it. I have enrolled on my Psychology Masters course because I’ve always had that wish to help others. I have no idea how I’m going to afford it. I’m living in singapore dollars paying university fees in british pounds, you go do the conversion, it makes my brain hurt I’ve done it so many times. My fees are going to tip over the 10,000 pounds mark over 3-4 years. I'm not by any means wealthy, I live in a room, in a house that I rent from a kind family, who allow me into their home. I have $69 to my name, in one of the most expensive cities in the world. I don't splurge my money. I travel only once a year to go home. If I go elsewhere I don't go home. My last holiday I'm still paying back a friend for. I try to save, I'm not on a bad wage and my job is mostly ok but I'm still living pay cheque to pay cheque, just getting by because I'm trying to better myself, do something I think I'll enjoy, something worthwhile that I can hopefully use to help others in the future. I keep asking myself, is it worth it? Is the high expense, high stress worth it? Should I even bother trying? What if I fail? It makes me depressed, along with many other little things.
Before I came to Singapore, I went into therapy for suspected Manic, bipolar depression. The doctor asked me if I wanted drugs, I said no. I have mild OCD which means I cannot abide the loss of control. Drugs scare me. They scare me because I know I have an addictive personality. I will tell you a story of when I was 21. I was training on my PGCE to be a qualified teacher. I was young, I was dumb, I had issues. Those issues were taken advantage of and stupid, idiotic choices were made. When I was growing up I learnt that the coping mechanisms for misery were violence, and alcohol and drugs. I turned to alcohol. I was drinking up to two bottles of wine every night, hiding in my room so my flat mate wouldn’t find out just so I could sleep. Just so I could find the strength to get up in the morning. Just so I could forget. Alcohol never makes me forget and no matter what I convinced myself, it didn’t help. It’s not big and not clever being able to drink a lot. I quit my PGCE for reasons see above and drank my way through the next five years. I hurt people. Friends, boyfriends, family. It took me hurting one friend who mattered to me a great deal for me to stop and evaluate my situation. That was when I went to the doctor, got the diagnosis, went into therapy. The therapy helped, it gave me tools I needed to combat my irrational thoughts, my paranoia, my self loathing. When it started focusing on my dad, I stopped going. No point disturbing the dead in my opinion. Those unresolved issues will forever be unresolved. Let the dead lie in peace. Then my life changed.
Singaore.
I thought here I could make a fresh start. Leave the depression the sadness, the loneliness behind me. Hahaha, I was wrong. It seems that no matter where you go, shit just follows you.
Depression, to me, is like a stalker. It follows you, it waits for when you’re most vulnerable and then sneaks its way back in to stand in the corner of your room, watching, waiting for that moment when it knows you won’t fight back. Sound scary? It is.
I had managed to push my stalker to the garden of my mind and change the locks but my stalker never left. It waits and watches and sometimes it still gets a foot in the door. I have to live with it, probably for the rest of my life. Some days it’s crippling and getting dressed is just too much. Other days, it’s okay, I barely even glance at the stalker as I leave for work. I have different coping mechanisms now. I hardly drink anymore. I’m proud of that. I did not want to end up like my dad. It is not a nice way to go. My coping mechanisms involve trying to sleep more when insomnia isn’t kicking my face in, eating ice cream - even though I’m lactose intolerant - and exercising. I still don’t talk enough about my problems and so these mechanisms on some days just aren’t enough and the stalker gets all the way to my room and waits outside the locked door, knocking occasionally. I do talk to one or two people now, usually after I’ve unleashed an emotional tirade of paranoia and insecurity on them and accused them of not caring and hating me. I never thought anybody would stick around after that. Who would want to deal with that? I’ve pushed so many people away who cared and wanted to help and be my friend that I’m surprised there’s anybody left and I’m exceedingly grateful and thankful to those that are still around.
One day, I know deep in my heart, that it might not be enough. One day, I might just let go of that last spoon and step off that ledge. It might be my last ditch attempt at regaining control of my life, it might be that I can’t see another way out and my depression stalker has driven me to the window of my bedroom and I can’t allow it to take hold one more time. In the end it doesn’t matter what you have or who you could’ve turned to, all that matters is that moment. I think that’s why Robin Williams’ death affected me so much, affected so many people. It’s because there are so many of us that have stood on that ledge and thought about it. So many of us have survived others who took that leap and so many of us struggle to understand it and it scares them.
This is what I realised in thinking about all of this, his death, my own depression, depression and struggles I've seen others go and are going through. I realised that we are all suffering. Every single one of us is going through something. We are all suffering through some kind of pain. It could be anxiety over socialising at work. Worry about your child's GCSEs. Fear of failing at work. Fear of that bully at school or online. You could need money for a car or tuition or a house or just to give yourself a little emergency buffer. You could be suffering chronic pain, depression, cancer, you could be grieving or feeling like your friends are judging you. It doesn't matter how little or large your thing that you're dealing with is, it's personal and relative and everybody has something.
Related to that everybody also copes in their own way too. Some vent in journals, others talk privately with close friends, many ignore it and persevere. Some cope by not eating, others cope by drinking or taking drugs. Some people write, some people sing, some people work. Some eat ice cream despite knowing they shouldn't and some exercise or become activists for a cause. I think as someone who suffers depression I do and have forgotten many times that people do suffer. No, nobody is ever going to understand my problems and every single person on this planet feel like their suffering is the absolute worst even if rationally we know that it's not. It's relative, it's personal. Pain is one of the most personal aspects of our lives and unless we choose to share it, nobody can truly understand what it is we're going through, just as we can't truly know what our friends and families and all the strangers in the world are going through or have been through.
We are all different.
Emotions tend to cloud rational thinking and make us lash out and villify or condemn that which we do not fully understand. Be it perceived injustice, war, famine, tragedy, politics, depression, suicide of an adored celebrity. I am guilty of this. I have lashed out and lash out at those closest, I've been paranoid of my friends, condemned and judged how other people deal with their shit. It is perfectly alright to have an opinion but it is not alright to tell somebody their way is wrong because it doesn't work for you. Nor is it alright to demean their suffering, their problems because their methods of coping don't imply a massive internal or external struggle. There were undoubtedly people in Robin's life who felt that they had tried to help, had been there for him and are now asking themselves why. Why couldn't he talk to me? Truth is nobody will know why. We can't know why. Those that have stood on that edge can relate to that complete hopelessness, that despair but even they can't know why another takes their own life. I've been there, held that last spoon in my hand and wanted, my goodness I wanted to end it so badly, more than once. I used to think I was a coward for not following through. Many have labelled Robin as a coward for doing it and attacked his daughter, blamed her for not doing more, for causing it. It wasn't cowardly it was a means to an end and nobody has that right to condemn or villify how somebody else chooses to cope or not cope. Yes have an opinion, don't attack others with it.
*sigh* well I got ranty. I apologise. With everything that's going on in the world the last thing anybody needs is more misery. I will say this though; for all of our differences, suffering also brings us together, unites people from across the world in ways I am only just coming to realise. People in war zones reaching out to those in Ferguson. People mourning as one for the death of a celebrity. Jews and Arabs from across the world uniting with a message of peace for their fellow human beings in Israel and Gaza. People raising awareness for ALS, a disease 95% of us weren't really affected by. People protesting against inequality, prejudice, bullying, tyranny, racism from all corners of the world for all corners of the world. Suffering has and will continue to bring us together as much as our differences will keep trying to tear us apart.
But it's okay to be different. It's ok not to understand. It's not ok to bring someone down and attack others as a result of that lack of understanding.
It's okay to find and focus on something that makes YOU happy and anybody be damned should they try to take, condemn, mock or demean that which gives you some enjoyment, some relief from just getting by, some escape from the pressures of living day to day with the threat of depression or pain or anxiety lurking at your door.
Find that something that keeps you holding on, makes you smile. Be it creating something, exercising or eating ill advised ice cream. Look forward to something. Trust just a little bit that when that blanket of despair, paranoia and worry lifts a little; somebody will be there, your friends will be waiting. Even if it doesn't feel like anyone even notices or cares.
It's ok to feel empowered and want to provide a voice to the injustices in the world. It's ok to not want to talk about those very same injustices. It's ok to have and not to have an opinion. Nobody should make anybody feel bad or guilty about either stance.
And on that note I run out of steam and shall return to my silent angst and worry about my life choices. But I'm going to offer some surprisingly great advice from Bill and Ted which if we all tried to live by, then the world would be a much better and more tolerant place to live:
"Be excellent to each other. "
Then Robin Williams died. I cried a lot. More than I cried for my own Dad when he died. I didn’t really cry for my dad until 6 years later for reasons that aren’t relevant right now. Robin Williams a man, who, in death, I had more connection with, more in common with than I ever did when he was alive. That’s not to say he didn’t move me, make me laugh, make me cry. He did, so much. My favourite film of his is; ‘What Dreams may Come’. I cry everytime I watch it. It explores, death, the afterlife, tragedy, depression and suicide.
Depression, suicide.
It is in these two things that gave me more in common with a man I had never met than anything else he’d ever done. That’s not to say I understood him. Nobody can say they knew what he was going through because the only person who knew, is dead.
I decided, after sleeping on it that I was going to make a real life post, and I was going to centre it around depression. I’m still in Singapore for those wondering, coming up to almost two years here. Things haven’t all gone exactly to plan but it’s a life, I have a new plan and I just need to keep my head down and working towards it. I have enrolled on my Psychology Masters course because I’ve always had that wish to help others. I have no idea how I’m going to afford it. I’m living in singapore dollars paying university fees in british pounds, you go do the conversion, it makes my brain hurt I’ve done it so many times. My fees are going to tip over the 10,000 pounds mark over 3-4 years. I'm not by any means wealthy, I live in a room, in a house that I rent from a kind family, who allow me into their home. I have $69 to my name, in one of the most expensive cities in the world. I don't splurge my money. I travel only once a year to go home. If I go elsewhere I don't go home. My last holiday I'm still paying back a friend for. I try to save, I'm not on a bad wage and my job is mostly ok but I'm still living pay cheque to pay cheque, just getting by because I'm trying to better myself, do something I think I'll enjoy, something worthwhile that I can hopefully use to help others in the future. I keep asking myself, is it worth it? Is the high expense, high stress worth it? Should I even bother trying? What if I fail? It makes me depressed, along with many other little things.
Before I came to Singapore, I went into therapy for suspected Manic, bipolar depression. The doctor asked me if I wanted drugs, I said no. I have mild OCD which means I cannot abide the loss of control. Drugs scare me. They scare me because I know I have an addictive personality. I will tell you a story of when I was 21. I was training on my PGCE to be a qualified teacher. I was young, I was dumb, I had issues. Those issues were taken advantage of and stupid, idiotic choices were made. When I was growing up I learnt that the coping mechanisms for misery were violence, and alcohol and drugs. I turned to alcohol. I was drinking up to two bottles of wine every night, hiding in my room so my flat mate wouldn’t find out just so I could sleep. Just so I could find the strength to get up in the morning. Just so I could forget. Alcohol never makes me forget and no matter what I convinced myself, it didn’t help. It’s not big and not clever being able to drink a lot. I quit my PGCE for reasons see above and drank my way through the next five years. I hurt people. Friends, boyfriends, family. It took me hurting one friend who mattered to me a great deal for me to stop and evaluate my situation. That was when I went to the doctor, got the diagnosis, went into therapy. The therapy helped, it gave me tools I needed to combat my irrational thoughts, my paranoia, my self loathing. When it started focusing on my dad, I stopped going. No point disturbing the dead in my opinion. Those unresolved issues will forever be unresolved. Let the dead lie in peace. Then my life changed.
Singaore.
I thought here I could make a fresh start. Leave the depression the sadness, the loneliness behind me. Hahaha, I was wrong. It seems that no matter where you go, shit just follows you.
Depression, to me, is like a stalker. It follows you, it waits for when you’re most vulnerable and then sneaks its way back in to stand in the corner of your room, watching, waiting for that moment when it knows you won’t fight back. Sound scary? It is.
I had managed to push my stalker to the garden of my mind and change the locks but my stalker never left. It waits and watches and sometimes it still gets a foot in the door. I have to live with it, probably for the rest of my life. Some days it’s crippling and getting dressed is just too much. Other days, it’s okay, I barely even glance at the stalker as I leave for work. I have different coping mechanisms now. I hardly drink anymore. I’m proud of that. I did not want to end up like my dad. It is not a nice way to go. My coping mechanisms involve trying to sleep more when insomnia isn’t kicking my face in, eating ice cream - even though I’m lactose intolerant - and exercising. I still don’t talk enough about my problems and so these mechanisms on some days just aren’t enough and the stalker gets all the way to my room and waits outside the locked door, knocking occasionally. I do talk to one or two people now, usually after I’ve unleashed an emotional tirade of paranoia and insecurity on them and accused them of not caring and hating me. I never thought anybody would stick around after that. Who would want to deal with that? I’ve pushed so many people away who cared and wanted to help and be my friend that I’m surprised there’s anybody left and I’m exceedingly grateful and thankful to those that are still around.
One day, I know deep in my heart, that it might not be enough. One day, I might just let go of that last spoon and step off that ledge. It might be my last ditch attempt at regaining control of my life, it might be that I can’t see another way out and my depression stalker has driven me to the window of my bedroom and I can’t allow it to take hold one more time. In the end it doesn’t matter what you have or who you could’ve turned to, all that matters is that moment. I think that’s why Robin Williams’ death affected me so much, affected so many people. It’s because there are so many of us that have stood on that ledge and thought about it. So many of us have survived others who took that leap and so many of us struggle to understand it and it scares them.
This is what I realised in thinking about all of this, his death, my own depression, depression and struggles I've seen others go and are going through. I realised that we are all suffering. Every single one of us is going through something. We are all suffering through some kind of pain. It could be anxiety over socialising at work. Worry about your child's GCSEs. Fear of failing at work. Fear of that bully at school or online. You could need money for a car or tuition or a house or just to give yourself a little emergency buffer. You could be suffering chronic pain, depression, cancer, you could be grieving or feeling like your friends are judging you. It doesn't matter how little or large your thing that you're dealing with is, it's personal and relative and everybody has something.
Related to that everybody also copes in their own way too. Some vent in journals, others talk privately with close friends, many ignore it and persevere. Some cope by not eating, others cope by drinking or taking drugs. Some people write, some people sing, some people work. Some eat ice cream despite knowing they shouldn't and some exercise or become activists for a cause. I think as someone who suffers depression I do and have forgotten many times that people do suffer. No, nobody is ever going to understand my problems and every single person on this planet feel like their suffering is the absolute worst even if rationally we know that it's not. It's relative, it's personal. Pain is one of the most personal aspects of our lives and unless we choose to share it, nobody can truly understand what it is we're going through, just as we can't truly know what our friends and families and all the strangers in the world are going through or have been through.
We are all different.
Emotions tend to cloud rational thinking and make us lash out and villify or condemn that which we do not fully understand. Be it perceived injustice, war, famine, tragedy, politics, depression, suicide of an adored celebrity. I am guilty of this. I have lashed out and lash out at those closest, I've been paranoid of my friends, condemned and judged how other people deal with their shit. It is perfectly alright to have an opinion but it is not alright to tell somebody their way is wrong because it doesn't work for you. Nor is it alright to demean their suffering, their problems because their methods of coping don't imply a massive internal or external struggle. There were undoubtedly people in Robin's life who felt that they had tried to help, had been there for him and are now asking themselves why. Why couldn't he talk to me? Truth is nobody will know why. We can't know why. Those that have stood on that edge can relate to that complete hopelessness, that despair but even they can't know why another takes their own life. I've been there, held that last spoon in my hand and wanted, my goodness I wanted to end it so badly, more than once. I used to think I was a coward for not following through. Many have labelled Robin as a coward for doing it and attacked his daughter, blamed her for not doing more, for causing it. It wasn't cowardly it was a means to an end and nobody has that right to condemn or villify how somebody else chooses to cope or not cope. Yes have an opinion, don't attack others with it.
*sigh* well I got ranty. I apologise. With everything that's going on in the world the last thing anybody needs is more misery. I will say this though; for all of our differences, suffering also brings us together, unites people from across the world in ways I am only just coming to realise. People in war zones reaching out to those in Ferguson. People mourning as one for the death of a celebrity. Jews and Arabs from across the world uniting with a message of peace for their fellow human beings in Israel and Gaza. People raising awareness for ALS, a disease 95% of us weren't really affected by. People protesting against inequality, prejudice, bullying, tyranny, racism from all corners of the world for all corners of the world. Suffering has and will continue to bring us together as much as our differences will keep trying to tear us apart.
But it's okay to be different. It's ok not to understand. It's not ok to bring someone down and attack others as a result of that lack of understanding.
It's okay to find and focus on something that makes YOU happy and anybody be damned should they try to take, condemn, mock or demean that which gives you some enjoyment, some relief from just getting by, some escape from the pressures of living day to day with the threat of depression or pain or anxiety lurking at your door.
Find that something that keeps you holding on, makes you smile. Be it creating something, exercising or eating ill advised ice cream. Look forward to something. Trust just a little bit that when that blanket of despair, paranoia and worry lifts a little; somebody will be there, your friends will be waiting. Even if it doesn't feel like anyone even notices or cares.
It's ok to feel empowered and want to provide a voice to the injustices in the world. It's ok to not want to talk about those very same injustices. It's ok to have and not to have an opinion. Nobody should make anybody feel bad or guilty about either stance.
And on that note I run out of steam and shall return to my silent angst and worry about my life choices. But I'm going to offer some surprisingly great advice from Bill and Ted which if we all tried to live by, then the world would be a much better and more tolerant place to live:
"Be excellent to each other. "
