Under the guise of shame

We all know the cliche about life being rough and unfair to the most benevolent peaple. And, I do not feel any shame to tell that I have experienced my fair share of that. Make no mistake, I am not sharing this piece of writing asking for clemency or self-pitying. Yet I believe in openness and honesty in sharing personal endeavors.

I am forthrightly reporting that I cannot get into the mind of people and dissect their life event with all nitty-gritty details of the good, the bad, and the ugly. However, what I know for certain is that people who have never felt mental stress or any other variant of depression, they have never endured the real PAIN in their lifetime.

That may sound a bit lame to the two-thirds of the population who are lucky enough to not suffer such excruciating experience. If you happen to be one of them, count your blessings! For my comrades who can relate to such, I would say that don’t worry, you are not alon.

According to one research firm in the USA, one out of five people are suffering a mental disease of some sort, though, more than half of this demographic would not admit having it or accept sharing their stories. Therefore, for me as an activist for openness, I would spell out my combat with chronic stress in the next few lines and how it has affected my life trajectory.

Four years ago, today, I would stroll around the college corridors wondering what to do with my life. The pain was perpetual and agonizing. I wanted to bang my head against the wall, but in a moment I saw him approaching me from far ahead. It was Hussain, my very intimate friend. He would greet me saying hi Zack, how is your day…. You don’t seem to be alright, is there anything I can help you with? My reply would be something like No pal, I’m totally fine… don’t worry.

Recalling back these moments; I did not know what drove me crazy the most! Was it my dishonesty with my very intimate friend or the fact that I was showing a different face to conceal my vulnerability. One thing can be said for certain. I was NOT fine.

I did not know the meaning of deep sleep for five months in a row. I was not able to savor the real taste of food. I did not even experience the feeling of elation. In other words, I was miserable! My head was throbbing, my breath was sporadic. And above all, I felt lonely, despite being surrounded by family and friends. In the end, my mind was telling me that I was a victim on this universe.

If that did not feel too much already, my condition was deteriorating. I started talking to myself and experiencing hallucination excessively. One of the worst days of my life is when my mother got hospitalized for two nights. I was taking care of my four young siblings, preparing a presentation I had to give the next day, studying for the math exam too, and the worst of all, I was having my final driving test early next morning. I was pushed and pulled from all directions. The condition I was in at that moment was a mental collapse

The following day I was laughing in the class for no reason. My teacher and my classmates were all in a state of dismay. Heading for the math exam, I was oblivious of the right route to take, so I crossed through the girls’ staircase without knowing it. After the exam, a friend of mine conversed with me and told me how maniacal I was at that time.

But wait a minute, why didn’t you seek out help? You may ask. The reason was mortification. My people and culture taught me not to speak up with my very intimate grievances. They taught me to stay silent and to mind my own business with incognito. I was told that the manifestation of my deep languishes is a sign of weakness that could negate my status of masculinity. Thus, it is shameful to express your quandary and to strive to vent it out.

What is more absurd is that most people say that mental illnesses are just mere illusion experienced by those who brought misery to themselves and did not act properly. Some hardline priests went on to say that those having mental illnesses have soaked their soles with profanity, and eventually got what they really deserve. Taking the fore-running into consideration, no wonder such doctrines are taking matters from bad to abysmal.

Thankfully, I was from the privileged few who got recovered from that hell. I am grateful to have a cousin who guided me towards the right books to read and to the right people to consult. And by the grace of God, I was saved from a chronic melancholy.

In the end, I would love to send a message to all those who have gone through such agony and to assure to them the fact that hiding their chaotic emotions would perpetuate the venom within them, and therefore, they ought to get help as soon as they can. Ignore the noise of the outside world, save your existence on this planet.

Text written by Zakaria Younis Al Hashmi