My life - Part 49

Part of the problem is of course me. I am an extremely sensitive person, easily affected by what people say or what is happening around me. For example, I read in the newspapers the other day that some idiot hung a cat by its neck to a pole and it died, surely a horrible death. Most people I gather would just say "oh how terrible" and move on. But I got so angry, and when I get this angry I usually cry, which I did. And then I wished the person responsible for this evil act would suffer a painful, tortuous death. And then I felt bad for wishing such a thing. I wish I could be the person who says "oh how terrible" and move on. I think I have to learn to disassociate myself more with what people say or what is happening around me.

Similarly, I get very affected when someone tells me, for example that I have put on weight. I will obsess about this comment, go on a diet, go to the gym, etc. I have no idea how to just let things go, how to take it easy.

I think this is one of the reasons I have been avoiding the newspapers and Time magazines. Because they affect me. But I am just running away from the problem. Sure, I can continue avoiding the newspapers and Time magazines but I cannot continue avoiding people, who will inevitably tell me things whether I want to hear them or not. So I think in order to protect myself, I have to learn how not to be affected by what people tell me or what is happening around me, and at the same time retain some sense of humanity because if none of these things affect me, how human am I really am? If I am not affected by cruelty to animals, can I call myself a human? Am I not just some unfeeling robot?

I have no idea how to achieve this. Over the next year, I plan to experiment different ways of dealing with this problem. I think I shall start by ignoring a lot of things. Ignore what people tell me. Laugh it off. Keep my head down. Don't unnecessarily talk to people. Stuff like that. I shall, of course, document my progress.

My life - Part 48

I figured out what the problem is. The underlying problem that is the cause of my depression. 

I don't have to finish my life story now, although I must say writing down bits and pieces of my life did help me find the root cause of my problem. 

It is difficult for me to try and explain the problem in words. But I shall try. 

The last time I felt dread like this was when I graduated from university and was about to step into the working world. I felt a sense of foreboding; as if I was walking away from my last sanctuary of goodness into the world of evil. All this while I thought I was just lazy, that I just liked to do nothing except read story books and relax and ponder about life as it was, as it is and as it should be. 

But I am not lazy. Far from it. I can be successful in anything I set my mind to. Had work does not scare me. It is not work that depresses me, it is the people around me. And I don't mean any specific person that I work with, but people in general. When you work in any organization, you are expected to behave in a certain way. For example, to attend social functions where you are forced to mingle with people you do not like, because it is the tactful thing to do. And if you are not nice or you show your dislike for anyone, you are told that you are a difficult person and why is it so hard for you to be nice?

Many, many expectations. You can't really be yourself. Oh, you try and swim against the current but after a while you think it must be easier to just go with the flow and yes, it is easier but in swimming with the current you lose a bit of yourself and then, over the years, when you've swam an entire ocean, you realize you don't even recognize yourself anymore. You have become someone else, someone you do not like, and who is this person??

So I said when I travel I am a totally different person. That is because I get to be the real me, without any pretensions and masks and being nice for the sake of being nice. I talk to who I want when I want. I don't talk to people I don't like. And because I have that freedom, I am my true self and I am happy. When I was travelling and I was this person who was so very unlike the everyday me, I thought I was someone else and that I was happier being someone else. Now I know that is not true. I am happy being my true self. And I can only be my true self when I am given the absolute freedom to do that. The freedom which I don't have when I am bound by the shackles of society.

This person that I really am, the simple minded, care free girl that was for almost 10 years lurking in a dark corner of my soul full of dust and spider webs, I dusted off and unleashed again. And this person is one to be loved. I mean, I can really fall in love with this person. There is just so many things about this person that is lovable, and it's such a loss that I never saw any of it before. 

So now I feel the same dread because after re-discovering my true self, I have to go into society again and I am so afraid that I will become the person that I do not like. The person who conformed to the rules and in doing so, became someone else. 

Free spirited people should never be put in cages. And just because the cage is made of gold and looks beautiful, doesn't detract from the fact that it's still a cage. It's still stifling my freedom, my creativity, my happiness. Free spirited people should just be let loose to do whatever they want. 

Trauma

I had to go for surgery the other day. Minor surgery is what all the doctors told me. 10 stitches. It may be minor to the medical profession but it was a major incident in my otherwise healthy life. It was my first, and hopefully last, surgery.

I woke up from surgery crying. Not because I was in pain (I always thought I had a low tolerance for pain but it turns out that my pain tolerance is quite high), but because I was such a burden to my parents who were not only worried about me, but also had to accompany me in the hospital. Because healthy 36 year olds do not go for surgery. Because I am the last person to go to the doctor, let alone the hospital, and now I had undergone the worst kind of invasion to my body. Because I don't want this. Because it was forced upon me. Because I am forced to undergo the very thing that I loathe and hate the most. Because my nightmare came true. Because I don't deserve this. Because I am good. And just because.

I read in a book about Buddhism that the best 'protection' one can give oneself is thinking good and doing good. I admit I am not perfect, but I can't think of a single incident I did that was so bad, to make me deserve this. My rational mind will not accept such flimsy excuses such as "these things happen" or "it could've been worse". My understanding of karma tells me that it should not have happened in the first place. Whatever else that depressed me, I always took pride in my health and physical strength. And now even that has gone out the window.

I refused to stay in hospital for "observation". I refused to be moved around in a wheelchair. I refused unnecessary medication. Not because I'm a difficult patient. Because I needed to know that I was still strong. That I still have some control over my own body. 

And now, as I wait for my physical wounds  to heal, mentally I am scarred, probably for life, because although I know I may never know the answer, I will always wonder why I had to go through this. Why, why, why. 

"The sense of an ending"

I did it. I read the damn newspaper. This small act, I am sure, will open the floodgates into the reality that I have been avoiding. Already I feel myself changing. Regressing is the better word. Regressing into my former self, the self that I did not particularly like. It is only a matter of time before the layers of fantasy / protection that I have constructed for myself is slowly peeled away, layer by layer, until I become one of them again. One of you.

When I travelled alone I had no one else to depend on but myself. I made my own decisions without consulting anyone, and no matter how I reacted to a situation, I didn't have anyone analyzing my actions and telling me, whether I solicited their opinion or not, that what I did was right or wrong. And later when I narrated my experiences to various people, I was telling them a story, not asking them for support or affirmation of my actions. I had the conviction that my actions, right or wrong, were necessary for my survival at that point in time. I was my only critic. I was my only judge.

My new found confidence in myself would crumble away piece by piece like a house of cards, very soon. It is inevitable. And here's why. I will go out into society again. I will have to face human beings. And human beings will insist on giving me unsolicited advice as to whether my actions are wrong or right. And because I am no longer alone but in society, I will inevitably listen to these nefarious whispers, and start to question my actions, and thus will begin again the saga of self-doubt, self-criticism and self-loathing.

It is easy to tell myself to ignore what others say. Just like it is easy to put into practice the teachings of Buddha when you are deep in the heart of the Himalayan forests. But try doing that in the real world. Try ignoring 90% of what people tell you, everyday, for the rest of your life (this is my own calculation based on my experience; only 10% of what people say to me are genuinely helpful; the rest are all rubbish, gossip, unsolicited advice and opinions, junk, frivolity). It is an impossible task. When I enter society again, society will be my critic, my judge, my jury, my executioner, whether I like it or not. 

I'd like to kick the person who said no man is an island. Every man should be an island. The world would be a better place. 

Nothing at all

I have no idea what the hell has happened to me ever since I came home from my travels. I have always been an introvert, but now more than ever I enjoy being alone, all the time. Since I came back I have met up with some of my friends; some I still liked, some I don't like that much anymore. I guess I will be downsizing my already small group of friends soon. 

I like doing absolutely nothing. I go out of my house out of necessity, to buy food and groceries, to run errands, to jog (since I have had sleeping problems, I was able to jog in the wee hours of the morning, something that I would never have done just over 4 months ago), oh and I had to go see some people about a job. Apart from that, I am happy to stay alone at home. 

I have a friend who is currently out of a job, and within a week was already feeling restless and panicky. By contrast, I have been out of a job for 5 months now and if it were up to me, it would stay that way for a long time to come. She asked me what I did all day and whether I felt bored? And I told her most of the time I do nothing, and I don't feel bored. I don't feel restless. I don't feel the need to socialize. I am happy being left alone. I am happy being in my own world that consists of only me. I like the silence. I like the calm. I like not having to rush anywhere. I like the fantasy world that I have created for myself, far far away from reality. 

I have not read the newspapers for 4 months now. My mother has kept all the Time magazines printed during the time I was away. It is still lying where she left them. It's like I don't want to face reality. Sure, I know sooner or later I would have to. But later rather than sooner. I'd like to continue being in my fantasy world for as long as I possibly can before I face reality again with all its venom, spite, ugliness and darkness.

Spring cleaning

It took me 5 days to completely finish cleaning my room and throwing out a lot of unwanted stuff. I found old love letters from boyfriends I forgot I had, old letters from pen pals and my old friends from school when we went off to university, gifts from various people that I had accumulated over the years, clothes that I forgot I had, etc. My spring cleaning sort of turned into a walk down memory lane.

Even so, I threw most of it away. Among others, I learnt on my travels that one does not need much at all to survive. I have also vowed not to buy unnecessary things anymore. 

When I told some friends about this, they asked me whether I felt lighter. I don't. I can't miss something that I forgot I even had. I do, however, feel that I have become more practical; in throwing out unnecessary stuff, I also threw out nostalgia, romance and memories, good and bad, perhaps because I thought these things were, and are, also unnecessary.

"The world has turned and left me here"

I have had many boyfriends, but only 2 that I ever truly loved with all my heart. My last relationship lasted 6 years, and we were still sort of loosely 'together' thereafter; although we did many things separately, I still depended on him quite a bit and I think he liked being depended upon.

One of my many reasons for going far far away for some time was to re-assess my relationship with him, to see if I want to give it another try or to forget him once and for all. 

I came home to find him more vigorous and diligent, venturing into all sorts of extra curricular activities of the business kind that would, and has, given him a more stable income than what he used to earn. And it was clear to me that I was no longer a part of his life. I can't help but think that in all those years when he was complacent despite me pushing him to do better, I was nevertheless there standing by him, and now that he is turning his life around for the better, he will probably share that better life with some other girl who will get to enjoy the fruits of his labour. 

But such is life. No, no. Such is MY bloody life.

My friends, who I have no doubts have only the best intentions (but still appear to me to be wannabe psychologists) say this is a good thing and now I can finally move on. Externally, this is the best time for him to be out of my life because I am feeling very independent now; after travelling alone for 3 months I feel as if there is nothing I can't do on my own. 

But internally, for me to move on it was never about how he felt, it has always been about how I feel. And I still love him. I think I always will. And how, pray tell, do I move on feeling the way I do? 

Feeling lost

2 weeks after I came home. I still couldn't sleep at night. My sleeping hours were either 6 am to 9 am or 3 pm to 7 pm. Since I couldn't sleep at night, I slept whenever I could, no matter the time. I'll worry about sleeping normally when I start working again.

I came home to find that people have not changed. They are still the same people I knew before I left. But. They are moving on in life. Best Friend No. 2 is having a baby. A cousin is getting married. A friend's sister is getting married. An ex-colleague is getting married. The same people. Growing. Evolving. Moving.

And then there is me. I feel that I have changed. I am calmer, more confident, more independent. And yet I go nowhere. I am back where I was before I left, except that I'm not that same person who left. I have no idea how to fit in. I feel like a tourist in my own country. Except that I am not.