Hurting to heal

It is reading reports such as this, that makes me feel blessed.

Sad, but blessed.

I don't know how it feels to want to hurt myself physically. Of course, I hope I never will. I guess this is the blessing I speak of, not coming to a point where the only way to deal with pain, is more pain.

Not a lot of people in Malaysia – people close to me included – think about depression, much less take the effort and time to understand or accept it. It is a frou-frou non-ailment to us. It isn't physical, like cancer or leukemia, and therefore it cannot exist. It cannot be healed, and most of the time, it cannot kill, and therefore it is paltry.

And when it does manifest itself physically through deeds such of suicide or murder, we shake our heads at it, dismissing it as a random act by a crazy person who is already beyond help.

Thing is, people get depressed all the time, and not know it. It is not so much as suspecting that one is depressed and then refusing to take control of the situation before it gets worse, than just going through episodes of semi-conscious sadnes. You know you feel crappy but think it will pass, and before you know it, you can't remember the last time you smiled or laughed.

"It's all in the mind," Lokes would say. That is true, and that's exactly why depression is so hard to manage. If we could all command our brains to think properly so that we can act properly, the world would be a much better place. And if we know we cannot always tell our thoughts not to misbehave, why do we find it so hard to accept that they can very well run wild one day?

The day we figure out what makes us tick (or rather the bombs in us tick), we just need to take better care of ourselves, both physically and mentally.

"I'm not crazy," said a friend of mine whom I thought could use a few sessions on the couch.

"Well, not yet," I'd told her.


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