In the name of Allah, the All-Compassionate, the All-Merciful.
Only one person saw that titleless post as a suicidal thought.
When I read it again, it looks very sad. I actually posted that thought on my FaceBook but I kept it privy to my eyes only. It just looks sadder. Whoever gets to take control of my FaceBook when I pass away, should just delete the account without going through all my posts. Save ye self.
No, it goes beyond superficial problems if that is what you’re thinking. It’s like having a cancerous cell that’s dormant. When it becomes malignant, the cancer gets active. When it is benign, it is inactive.
That is how I feel my so called depression is like: (I’m calling it ‘so called’ because remember, I am not formally diagnosed. It doesn’t feel fair nor right when there are people out there who are actually diagnosed with it.)
For me, it lies dormant until my body decides to activate it. It is kind of like having a cloud of darkness in the attic and when it is released, it creeps into every corner of your house and completely takes over it. And then you will have to try your best to chase it back to the attic at least, if you can’t shoo it away from your house. And it is a huge struggle trying to fight it off because it is not a physical entity. You can’t see it but you can feel it. And sometimes, the more you struggle with it, the more you lose yourself in its grip. It’s that futile attempt to overcome it only to end up being overpowered by it instead. And then you start to feel like letting go and giving in is easier than to struggle.
I really don’t like it. For as long as I could remember since I was a preschooler, I have been trying to deal with it. However, it has always been passed off as me being temperamental or sensitive.
I don’t know eh, if it is depression or bipolarism. One day I can feel so high that I can hear heaven (hehehe) and another day I can be so down in the dumps.
But I have always told myself firmly, those are just popular excuses for people to get away with their actions. I have always pride myself in taking responsibility for whatever shit that happens to me. Just suck it up, buttercup.
Just that it gets exhausting when your personal relationships are badly affected and when it affects your daily life. Like, I actually feel happy and my exterior shows I am happy but at the same time, I feel miserable somewhere inside and I just want to cry.
It’s just so weird to exist in dual planes of emotions. And exhausting.
Right now, I’m reeling from the aftermath of that spell. I’m trying to open up more cracks for the light outside to permeate into my house of darkness to shoo it away.
That “light” would be encouragement from people around me, their nice gestures, their laughter, their happiness and appreciation towards me, and my memories. My memories of le fiancé are really the bulk of my saving grace when I managed to get moments of recollection.
Like precious seconds for actions you need to take that determine life and death.
Memories like waiting for him at the playground of my old workplace and smiling at him as he approaches me. He told me before it was one of his favourite images of me. It is a special memory because at that time we were not a couple yet but were close to being one.
So yeah. 🙂
And Allah is Ar-Rahim, the All-Merciful. May He have mercy on my condemned soul. – MM
Metropolitan Muslimah 