Obstinacy
I just arrived at college this morning straight from Banting, Selangor from a classmate's house after staying there for 2 days and 2 nights, filming scenes for our Lit&Media movie project. It was fun and tiring and memorable all at once and I love that I'll be able to have these memories.
But as soon as I got back to my room, a depressive mood sets in.
Roomie left to her brother's house in KL because we have Monday off.
To be honest, it was probably something unwittingly mentioned by me during our stay in Banting. I didn't even know why it came out of my mouth, it just..did. And it was too late to take it back by the time they acknowledged it and, well, I held off the gloomy funk until the filming is over.
Sometimes, little tidbits of things before The Incident came through without me realizing it, things that I didn't even remember had happened until after I said it. A pair of thick arms caging me in on top of me. Whispers of words. Fleeting snake-like touches on my arms. A hungry look.
Sometimes, little flashes of memory from the one year I lost when I was 14 shines at the bottom of the void. An empty seat. A blackboard written full of indecipherable chalk notes. Someone's laughter. Pain from my backside. Humiliation.
I've had these depressive set-ups before. I'm aware of their backlash. I'm starting to lose my appetite again, and the ones I could scarf, I had to flush with mineral water to keep them down. Keeping a farce in front of other people is easy because it's textbook. Not so easy when the only audience is me.
I'm used to not eating so much. And by that I mean Sherlock level of not-eating. Here, at college, I'm aware of how little food comes in and how demanding my body gets after a time. At home, it's unacceptable because we are not taught to waste food. Outside, I'm confined to typical stereotypes.
I don't think it's an eating disorder or anything serious.
I just don't seem to be able to keep down a certain amount of solid food at times. Right now, Ramadhan is practically convenient because it's inconspicuous. At least, at college.
Home is a different issue.
My head is in pain and my legs are crumbly.
I laughed deprecatingly when I remembered what I said to my psychiatrist on my last appointment. I told him with a sneer how all the bullshit he's told me so far is nothing different than what all those other counselors I met.
"Be positive."
"You must think positively."
"Your personality is so negative. You must change that."
"Your pessimistic personality is the trouble. Be more positive."
Here I am, sitting at the bottom of a smooth-tiled well with them shouting those stupid words from above me, doing nothing but shout and shout and shout the same repeated schtick till they all blur together and turn into black statics. How degrading.
If you're not gonna throw me a rope or at least something that I could craft to help myself, then kindly fuck off. At the very least, the psychiatrist's allowed to prescribe me medical pills, which in the analogy, IS something I could craft to help myself with.
There are some things that you can recognize when I'm in this type of depressive mood.
I don't talk.
I don't eat.
I limit my movements to necessary events (such as hydration and peeing).
I'm physically and emotionally and mentally in pain.
I can and will lie to your face just about everything until I can drown on my own.
I'm susceptible to relapses.
Definitely a danger night for self-harming.
I'm losing interest in what used to make me smile.
I'm hating myself more than ever.
Although one thing Sis said to me back at home resonates with this. If we have a person that relies and depends on us 100%, we'd be able to throw all the depressing shit aside for this person.
For example, a baby.
A baby who needs 24/7 management and supervision would leave you no time to think about yourself and your depressing shit. You turn all your energy and time and effort on them. Thinking back on my babysitting times with Harraz, I agree that she has a point.
Besides, I did the same thing with Sis till she got married, didn't I? Keeping my mind full with worrying about her and my future with her and I had to keep strong for both of us, etc etc etc.
I miss them, Sis and Harraz.
But as soon as I got back to my room, a depressive mood sets in.
Roomie left to her brother's house in KL because we have Monday off.
To be honest, it was probably something unwittingly mentioned by me during our stay in Banting. I didn't even know why it came out of my mouth, it just..did. And it was too late to take it back by the time they acknowledged it and, well, I held off the gloomy funk until the filming is over.
Sometimes, little tidbits of things before The Incident came through without me realizing it, things that I didn't even remember had happened until after I said it. A pair of thick arms caging me in on top of me. Whispers of words. Fleeting snake-like touches on my arms. A hungry look.
Sometimes, little flashes of memory from the one year I lost when I was 14 shines at the bottom of the void. An empty seat. A blackboard written full of indecipherable chalk notes. Someone's laughter. Pain from my backside. Humiliation.
I've had these depressive set-ups before. I'm aware of their backlash. I'm starting to lose my appetite again, and the ones I could scarf, I had to flush with mineral water to keep them down. Keeping a farce in front of other people is easy because it's textbook. Not so easy when the only audience is me.
I'm used to not eating so much. And by that I mean Sherlock level of not-eating. Here, at college, I'm aware of how little food comes in and how demanding my body gets after a time. At home, it's unacceptable because we are not taught to waste food. Outside, I'm confined to typical stereotypes.
I don't think it's an eating disorder or anything serious.
I just don't seem to be able to keep down a certain amount of solid food at times. Right now, Ramadhan is practically convenient because it's inconspicuous. At least, at college.
Home is a different issue.
My head is in pain and my legs are crumbly.
I laughed deprecatingly when I remembered what I said to my psychiatrist on my last appointment. I told him with a sneer how all the bullshit he's told me so far is nothing different than what all those other counselors I met.
"Be positive."
"You must think positively."
"Your personality is so negative. You must change that."
"Your pessimistic personality is the trouble. Be more positive."
Here I am, sitting at the bottom of a smooth-tiled well with them shouting those stupid words from above me, doing nothing but shout and shout and shout the same repeated schtick till they all blur together and turn into black statics. How degrading.
If you're not gonna throw me a rope or at least something that I could craft to help myself, then kindly fuck off. At the very least, the psychiatrist's allowed to prescribe me medical pills, which in the analogy, IS something I could craft to help myself with.
There are some things that you can recognize when I'm in this type of depressive mood.
I don't talk.
I don't eat.
I limit my movements to necessary events (such as hydration and peeing).
I'm physically and emotionally and mentally in pain.
I can and will lie to your face just about everything until I can drown on my own.
I'm susceptible to relapses.
Definitely a danger night for self-harming.
I'm losing interest in what used to make me smile.
I'm hating myself more than ever.
Although one thing Sis said to me back at home resonates with this. If we have a person that relies and depends on us 100%, we'd be able to throw all the depressing shit aside for this person.
For example, a baby.
A baby who needs 24/7 management and supervision would leave you no time to think about yourself and your depressing shit. You turn all your energy and time and effort on them. Thinking back on my babysitting times with Harraz, I agree that she has a point.
Besides, I did the same thing with Sis till she got married, didn't I? Keeping my mind full with worrying about her and my future with her and I had to keep strong for both of us, etc etc etc.
I miss them, Sis and Harraz.
Comments
Post a Comment