Screaming in white space
by jenmercury
Hello.
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It took me almost a whole year to write this… un-freaking-believable *rolls eyes*
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There was this afternoon in March and I was having tea with Apple. After an hour or two, in between topics as I played with the straw in my drink, I casually mentioned “Hey, hm, just thought I probably should bring it up, but for the last couple of months I’ve been feeling very down and I can’t exactly pinpoint why.”
I still acted as usual in front of people, so it wasn’t exactly taking a toll in my life. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t lift my spirits. I guess it was also around that time I stopped going to dance class, having difficulty writing… which sounded like something long the lines “stop doing what one used to enjoy”. But I assured her I was pretty sure I wasn’t depressed, because I hadn’t start crying for no apparent reason, having suicidal thoughts, or felt I was slowly driven to insanity… unlike my first year in university. So every now and then, she sends me links or articles related to depression, to which I always try to recall during what conversation recently had I probably over exaggerated my situation. I’ve always been a moody person, just that I’m aware of my shortcomings so I tend to keep it at bay when I’m with people.
I didn’t recall that particular conversation again until early this month I told Cass I won’t be meeting her for dinner the next week because I bought a ticket to Seoul over the weekend. She hesitated when she said it seem like I’ve been a bit crazy this year – went travelling thrice this year, when I had always been careful with money. I have been spending excessively – clothes, books that I don’t have time to read, eating out and drinking more often, perhaps, since May. For the last few times when I closed my books for the month (that’s exactly how careful I am with my finances – I need to know exactly how much I’ve spent and where I’ve spent it, with my trusty accounting software…) I got a good scare – how I had to sometimes dip into my savings to get through the month, because a good portion of my paycheck went to the credit card company. Still at least I could pay for everything on time and I was aware of what I was doing.
Then the crying spells started again. Funny thing though – when I knew why I was crying I almost never felt the emotion behind it; it was always more like a biological annoyance that I have no control over (rather like me dozing off), and has got me into embarrassing situations (during my appraisal in front of my boss, or when we were visiting my cousin’s grandma during CNY, for instance). When I didn’t “know” what I was crying for, I would, quite literally, feel an ache on my chest and I rarely attempt to stop myself, as if once I’ve drained my “reservoir” everything will be okay. But again, these aching outbursts only happened once in a while when I was on my own, unless there was something that managed to distract me. Seriously this doesn’t happen very often; only once in a while.
I don’t exactly know why my mom suggested this (I don’t think I’ve cried in front of her often enough to warrant it, but then maybe I’ve just been exceptionally cranky around her once or twice per week), but she said one of her clients had depression before, and she later realized her ivy-league-graduate daughter was going through the same thing. I painstakingly reassured her I will talk to her client when I feel like I should, but I don’t. Then after telling Tannessa my crying one night in Seoul, she also suggested me to talk to someone, “a professional” she emphasized, to see there was something that could be “fixed”, which somehow irritated the hell out of me. For one thing, I have a hard enough time articulating my thoughts or feelings as it is to do it On Purpose. For another it’s not like something crazily bad has happened to me. No one has bullied me, no one has abused me, I have a job, I make enough to go by, I have great friends, I get along with people – so I have bad days; everyone has them, so I should pretty much do what everyone does – just Deal. What makes me so special or what was so bad that I could not cope? I was and still am very much aware it sounds like me being defensive or being in denial. Yet, this all also sounded like, as to quote Apple, utterly “middle class” – something someone with loads of free time or extra cash in their hands to seek professional help for. If I can’t work it all out myself, then in a way I’m just incredibly weak.
She tried to soothe me, Tannessa , by saying she thought I knew how to cope when things get bad – it’s just I tend to keep it in, and one day it will be too much to contain. I thought back on how I used to cope when I young – I read, I wrote, I danced (in later years)… anything that took my mind off from focusing on the bad (or letting it wander too far). Then I noticed I’m not reading the right books, no longer write on my blog (nothing about recent life, anyway), and went to dance class too occasionally to be of any significance.
One of the many reasons I stopped writing on my blog, was because I cannot help feeling self absorbed whilst I wrote. It was also one of the main reasons I left fewer cryptic “statuses” on Facebook – I’m not looking for sympathy, nor seeking for attention. But sometimes muffling your thoughts in a pillow aren’t enough. I need an open space to scream – that’s big enough for me to look from afar and decipher my actions and thoughts with a hint of objectivity. I need to write. I should write.
It wasn’t an exaggeration when I said I spent a whole year trying to write this piece. This version was done in a week. In February I wrote ” Major reason to get yourself a blog – free therapy… I have been having mood swings for the longest of time.” Then in July I managed to blurted “So the last…”, then in August I managed ” I failed writing, so Writing failed me”. Each version had a different beginning. None except this one, were longer than two lines.
So, I’ll try to resume writing again. At least putting down thoughts that has been plaguing my head for the last couple of months. One reason is to come back to the warm arms of my free therapist, my blog (maybe “sanctuary” would be a better fit. I am my own free therapist, after all). Another is to simply try to make sense of all that is Jen Mercury.
