One problem with this blog is keeping track of the chapters and what not… trying to organise it as a book has been a reason not to blog as much, because well, a living book is hard to keep track of, in terms of the dates and trying to work around WordPress’ limitations.
From this post onwards… I’m gonna declare I’m lazy. I’ll just blog, and ignore the chapters. It’ll help me to blog more frequently, when I just feel like it.
Read More »I almost committed suicide in August of 2017.
I’d made plans. In fact, I’d started to put part of it into action, unbeknownst to those closest to me. When my wife found out, after I was in a safe place, she was totally shocked.
I’m 38 years of age, as I write this. I don’t really know of much mental illness in my own family, but suicide was something I do remember from my youth. I don’t remember anyone actually committing suicide, but I do remember someone close to me threatening to kill themselves, taking a blade and bringing it into their room. That person locked the door, and when it was unlocked with the master key, the person screamed that he or she would take their own life if that was tried again.
My temper had been getting worse day by day, even in the workplace. My colleagues who’d been working with me for years also noted it, and quietly told me that my temper was a little out of control. The advice they all gave when I switched jobs, was to watch my temper.
The new job had literally fallen out of the sky. A HR recruiter had dug out my resume from an application I’d made a year ago to the organisation she was working for, and asked me if I was interested. I was, and the hiring manager wanted an interview, which I went for. Before long, background checks were done, and I was moving on to a more technical job, the type I’d been wanting for some time. I’d be dealing with new technologies, and in a large organisation that contributes directly to Singapore’s future.
The crash started at the end of a week where every night I had some form of social engagement. By Friday night, I was not able to speak after I reached home from the last engagement for the week. This happens to me now and then, and my wife and I attribute it to my introverted nature, and the low level of energy that comes from too much social activity.
Depression is a strange illness. It’s not serious in the sense that it’s not directly fatal, such as a collapsed lung, or a hole in the heart. It doesn’t have as severe external symptoms as other mental or physical ailments. Yet it is more common than we think, with an estimated 1 in 20 Singaporeans suffering from depression at any time, according to Health Promotion Board statistics.
Medical language aside, there is little that expresses how a depressive person actually feels, and how difficult it is to throw off depression. I have seen a video that shows depression to be a big, heavy dog that refuses to let go, and someone I know has likened it to a dark cloud that sometimes goes away, but usually hangs over everything.
Personally, I liken it to this:
The earlier chapter describes how I felt. Despite the medication, I was not doing well. I was on leave from work, thankfully, and I went through all that I needed in order to ensure that I didn’t fall into the rabbit hole.
But nothing seemed to work.
When I awoke on Thursday of my final week of crisis, I was in pain, and the veil was thicker than ever. I remember my wife speaking to me, but I don’t remember reacting much. I couldn’t. I couldn’t take in what she said, and I was speaking in monosyllables as far as possible. But my plan was ready to be put into action.
