Well, depression. I think everyone goes through a spot of it once in a while, and I do hope everyone goes though a hard period in their life, otherwise I would feel very self-conscious. I think I would feel like a self-pitying freak if very little people go through deep spots of depression.
But that's beside the point. I went through a spot of heavy depression about (to be accurate) three years ago. It's really very funny thinking about it now, and it's strange that I can talk about it so light-heartedly now and joke about it, but it really was a black time. My main memory, was of crying almost every night, writing fervously and without much thought into a little exercise book of mine. That was my diary. I wish I had kept it, it would be interesting to see what philosophical thoughts came out from a 13-year-old me. I do remember making a lot of philosophical thoughts. Funny to think that, it was during my depression that I came up with the equation that I still follow today, the one that keeps me happy: There's nothing more important to life than happiness.
I think that's what was bugging me at that time. I didn't feel happiness. I knew I'd owned it before, when I was younger. I knew I was a very cheerful child, I had it all, brains (I used to top the class), looks (I was quite a pleasing child), manners (still have them!) and other odds and ends that I was sure of owning and contented to have. I was contented when I was young, that's why I was so happy. But like any teenager (or I hope so), I went through a period where I seemed to fail at everything. I would do badly at my studies, I would have times of immense self-consciousness, stuff like that. I found that, truly, for everything I was good at, there were people who outshone me so much it made me ashamed to think of how naive I was. I still feel like that sometimes, like everyone is better than me in everything I think I'm good at, and that I don't seem to have one thing that I'm good at...
The fact that my sister was an ultra high-flier when it came to grades didn't help a mite. She set the standards in our house, doing As throughout her entire schooling (I'm not exaggerating). Compared to her, I was a lazy spineless thing. Was it normal to feel depressed at that point?? Didn't help that I felt that I couldn't speak about these things to anyone. I couldn't talk to my parents, I never felt very close to them. Even now, I still don't feel very close to them. I couldn't talk to my friends, I don't know what they would have thought about me if I did. Probably freak out. I don't know. I had no other people to talk to, it was an extremely personal and terrifying issue for me, not one lightly shared. And so I carried the burden of it.
One thing that I described in my diary was the fact that I was faced with one mountain to climb every year, and after a long and ardous climb, all I can see is the sea of mountains ahead of me, which I must climb no matter what. I could see no meaning in the life I was leading and in the life I was going to lead. It was a neverending cycle of biting nails, studying, getting results, getting scolded by my parents. For at that time I was really studying to please my parents, and if they were disappointed, I was distraught. I think they knew that their words hurt more than any cane would, and so they battered me day and night with them. Or so I felt at that point. I had no doubt they loved me, but I didn't know whether they knew what they were doing to me.
My exercise book would get filled up by black ink scribbles and lots of tears at night. Depression has always been the best muse for me, and I wrote a lot at that point of my life. Most of my poems were about trying to find happiness, and about not being able to find happiness. My prose would be filled with girls who take their lives, or are eternally depressed. It was a very cathartic and yet romantic thing to write that that point. On hindsight, I think I revelled in my depression whilst being depressed too. There's something good about feeling eternally sad. I think I'm too big a fan of Anne of Green Gables. Pits of despair anyone?
Somehow or rather, I made the decision to commit suicide. That was just into my sec 3 year. I don't recall what was the exact thing that set it off, but I suspect it was more of a gradually built up depression and the belief that I would never gain happiness in my life, thus my life had no more meaning. It was a rather systematic decision though, I remember. I started researching into suicide methods, which account of my vast inventory nowadays. Obviously I didn't research enough, because I'm still alive, no? But we'll go into that later. So anyway, researching into suicide methods, also planning when to "go". It was also a very systematic process. I was hugely influenced by the idea of living out the best moments of my life before I died, and since there was to be a school performance (RGS Nite) and a writing camp (CAP) that I was looking forward to, I decided that if I got into CAP I would wait till after CAP to die.
Actually, during CAP I met a guy which I had a crush on, and I guess being infatuated made me change my ideas a bit. I started to realise that there was still hope for gaining happiness in my life. Being around so many people like myself, I couldn't help but cheer up and lighten up. Anyway, all my dark thoughts were used up in the numerous poems I wrote during the camp. I believe, on the last day of the camp, just before the closing ceremony, I had actually reversed my decision, to actually wait till the end of the year, and see whether I could get over this year's obstacles.
It was the morning of the ceremony. I was sitting there, remembering that my parents didn't care enough about me to attend the closing ceremony. It was almost the end of one of the best times of my life, and they didn't even turn up. I don't know why, all the old thoughts came flooding back into my brain. I sat there, crying, with the hood of my jacket over my head so no one else could see. When all was done, and I had to take a ride home in my friend's car, because my parents couldn't even fetch me. Everyone was crying, because the camp was ending, but I was crying for another reason... I think I might not have attempted suicide if it wasn't for the remarks my dad made when I got home. I tried to express how wonderful the camp was, and he ignored me, telling me that I really ought to study. That sort of clinched it for me. That afternoon I went shopping for a 150 pack of Panadol. At night, I snuck the panadol onto my bed, and started punching them out. I ate exactly 34 of them. During the night I couldn't get to sleep, and then I felt uneasy, and then I puked all over the bed. I got up to the bathroom to cry and wash up, wondering why whoever was in charge didn't let me die. At this point my parents woke up. I could have fooled them and not tell them the truth, but I broke down and told them after all.
I went to a hospital. They tried to wash my stomach, but I was crying and they couldn't fit the tube down my throat, because my nose was blocked and when they stuck it in I couldn't breathe. They gave me this medicine that would make me vomit instead. Later on I would find out that I could have still died, because the residue of the Panadol would have killed me by disabling my liver. I stayed in the hospital for a week. After I would go for psychiatrist sessions. I didn't like my psychiatrist, she didn't do anything for me. From then on I would never trust the expertise of a psychiatrist. The best shrink is yourself, I always say. But I played along and everything.
Whenever she asked me whether now, on hindsight, whether I would have still attempted suicide, I would always say yes. The incident showed my parents that I was indeed suffering, and it seemed like the only way to make them understand. If you asked me now, I would still say yes. Because that incident helped me to grow. But if you asked me whether I would do it again, I would say no. One time is more than enough. I think I've matured from the incident, and I've learnt to take things lightly. That incident also taught me another lesson: even though I cannot go back in time to undo the mistakes I have made and are suffering for them now, the one thing I can do is to make the road ahead as straight as possible, and forget the fact that I came from a twisted overgrown path. I wouldn't have never found the me today if I didn't go through that incident, I would have never felt at ease with myself.
But the incident wasn't without it's consequences. It took me more than two years to get my father to speak to me again. After the incident, my dad would be too scared to say anything to me, because he thought I would think I was being pressured. After the incident my parents simply gave me more leeway, but their impression of me never changed. I had to work hard to get the family relations I have today. The incident never took away my depression though. I continued to be depressed after my suicide attempt. It was through sheer hard work that I got back onto my feet. Even now, I still get traces of depression, but I try not to let it affect me too much. I'm not saying I run away from depression though. On the contrary, I embrace it. If I felt sad one night, I would just let the tears flow. The next day I'll be good as gold. Depression always leaves a big imprint on people, and it has on me. Next to the imprints depression wrote this for me: Fight me, meet me head-on, and I will become weaker with every assault. Perhaps one day, you will be rid of me. but remember, I am here for a reason.
I believe that reason is to help me understand what the good things in life are. I guess I would have taken friendship at face value if not for depression, but it's the friends that go through with you when you're depressed that are truly worth keeping. And when you're depressed, you find out what is the most important thing to you. For me, it was happiness, but when I was young, happiness was a slippery eel concept, something vague and unreachable. Now, it is something practical; happiness is when I work hard and get results; happiness is when I find love in unexpected places; happiness is when I do something I love.