Tag: depression

  • The Oppression of Victim-hood

    Being oppressed does not necessarily result in victims, but sitting and waiting for someone else to lift you out of your oppressive state does. Immediately images of Palestine, Burma, Iraq, Syria and other downtrodden communities come to mind, for most anyway. However, this state of victim-hood happens on a daily basis in the most arrogant and privileged among us.

    We often look for signs of being victims in people that appear helpless and incapable of fending for or defending themselves. Perhaps this is part of the psyche that drives us to denounce our own state of victim-hood. I’ve often suggested that anger is driven by fear, and fear is in turn driven by insecurity. Given that victims are generally insecure, either physically or emotionally, it stands to reason then that those that are angry more often than not are most probably the biggest victims among us. However, given that anger is often used to subdue others, it’s easy to see the target of such aggression as being the weak, and the aggressors as being the strong. This is very far from the truth of it all.

    I’m not suggesting that the aggressors should earn our sympathy, because that would be further adding to the imbalance in society that aggressors create. Rather, what I am suggesting is that if we recognise the victim-hood in the aggressors, we’ll recognise their weakness. If we recognise their weakness, we stand a chance of rising above their oppression and finding ways to undo that which gives them power over others. Stop thinking about this in the context of war and crime. It’s easy to be distracted by those because of the unfortunate prevalence of it all. Instead, think about in the context of an ordinary life.

    There is always someone looking to assert their superiority over others. But there’s rarely enough to recognise that such an effort results from an insecurity that drives us to seek such significance because we don’t believe we’re significant by default. It’s easy to succumb to oppression because we have a world celebrating the victim-hood of all with the aggressor being life. Just yesterday I heard that a child that throws tantrums at least three times a month for the period of a year is deemed to have a psychological disorder. Where I come from, it’s a parenting disorder, not a psychological one. The fact that the parents are inept primarily because of their own insecurities further cements the views I’ve shared about the oppression that results from victim-hood. But we’re unfortunately conditioned to believe that victims should be meek creatures waiting for a hand up, while forgetting that in waiting for a hand up we give up our right to take a stand for ourselves.

    Standing up should not be the act of a hero, or a brave soul. Like Stefan Molyneux said, “Anytime you create a hero, you diminish your own capacity for greatness.” Similarly, each time you wait for a hand up, you reduce your own capacity to be you. To be independent. To be a master of your life, rather than a victim.

  • Where My Food Lies

    I believe that the primary source of my affirmation is what feeds my soul. It is pitiful however, that such food is rarely wholesome since what appeases my ego often enjoys precedence over what feeds my soul. I hear of the agony of the heart versus the struggles of the head and none of it makes sense to me. I wonder if these efforts at apportioning constraints to these fountains of angst is in fact a delusion in the making, and if the head and the heart work in perfect balance to create the perfect storm, either of rapture, or rupture.

    Everything is in perfect balance, but in our drive to sell products and rape the bank accounts of the unsuspecting, we’ve perpatuated the idea that balance is only achieved in wholesomeness. It isn’t. My level of despair has always been directly proprotional to my level of jubilation. When the one decreases, the other increases, and so it is with everything in life. To assume that there is a perfect balance that is achievable external to our own needs for affirmation is a lie that will result in horrible truths that face us when we’re taking our final breath.

    Balance is not something to be achieved, but rather something to be balanced. Only in living consciously and mindfully, are we able to determine what balance we want for ourselves rather than allowing someone else’s ideals to be projected on our lives. I do not seek the balance of a successful capitalist, nor do I seek the balance of an ascetic. But both the capitalist and the ascetic have a right to the balance that they have sought out in their lives. My balance is my own, and my source of affirmation has to be other than man if ever I am to free myself from the slavery of my ego.

    My life’s struggle has been to find balance, but unfortunately much of it has been wasted trying to acquire someone else’s balance without achieving the realisation of my own. Much life has been spent, but life is not spent yet, so with dogged determination I will continue to pursue a balance that feeds me not of this world, but one that makes me worthy of what bliss may lie beyond. This may sound naive or even ridiculous to those that see nothing beyond, but if I were to consider the potential of getting that wrong, and compare that to the peace and purpose that such a pursuit would afford me in this life, I would happily get it wrong, because in doing so, I would also get it right. My balance, that is.

  • The Pretentiousness of Self-Doubt

    Self-doubt, it seems, is insecurity cloaked in anxiety. It occurred to me one morning on my way to work this week that each time I witnessed someone in the throes of an anxiety attack, there was an underlying sense of grave insecurity that left them helpless to deal with even fleeting thoughts of burdens they couldn’t stand the thought of bearing.

    This same pretentiousness drives me to write, or to ramble. This pretence that if I spew these words, it will relieve me of the burden of realisation that accompany them. It doesn’t. I read, quite uninterestedly, the numerous reminders about death. Reminders intended to spur us into action before that moment arrives when we stare inevitability in the face pleading for one more chance to do everything we always promised ourselves we’d do before we got old. But those reminders don’t remind me, they only taunt me.

    They taunt me because they remind me not of death, but rather of my eager anticipation of it since my youngest years. And as I grew older, I grew more tired of the wait and the anguish of not knowing when. When I was 22, I revelled in the deep-seated certainty that I would not live beyond 23, and so I immersed myself in this promise of tomorrow not always holding true. Until I lived beyond that age and felt cheated out of the promise of peace.

    But this is not about death. Nor is it about life. It’s about the lies we tell ourselves for so long that eventually we even convince others that it’s true about us. It starts out with a simple insecurity, or a simple doubt about something inconsequential, but usually larger than life because of the audience rather than the deed. It starts out when we’re unconsciously focused on how we’re to be seen by another, instead of how capable we are. That’s when the paralysing fear of incompetence sets in and convinces us that it’s safer to hold back, than it is to push forward because ridicule is far more painful than an insignificant success.

    And so the circle of doubt is formed. There are many that nurture it to the point of debilitation, while others stop short at instant gratification. Instantly gratifying themselves with puny accomplishments and denying themselves the opportunity to excel beyond mediocrity. More than the debilitated ones, I pity the mediocre amongst us. They hinder us in our quest for excellence or fulfilment, because they’re always pandering to the accolades of the feeble minded. Meanwhile, their appearance of confidence in their mediocre endeavours feed that self-doubt until they reach a point in life when the lies are just not convincing any longer. That’s when the fear of being discovered lurks just beneath the skin of the faces of those pretending to be the shadow of their true selves.

    Most of us will die never realising our true potential. Worse still, most of us will die not having anyone believe in our true potential. That we will die is inevitable. That we will live is highly doubtful.

    My sincerest condolences to the sorry soul that can relate to the incoherent rant that I just attempted to disguise as a meaningful post.

  • The Sadness of Depression

    The sad part of depression is that you cannot choose happiness for the one that is depressed. It is a choice that only they themselves can make. My attempts at raising the spirits of those that seem downtrodden or just down often leaves me questioning my competence and my significance. But such questioning only lasts as long as it takes for me to realise that it’s not about me, nor are the choices mine to make. I sometimes think the greatest gift to a depressed soul is acting out their potential in plain view of them, without throwing it in their face, regardless of the motivation. But then again, maybe not, because it can so easily be mistaken for antagonism or condescension.

    I’ve slipped into that trap of condescension many times, despite it never being deliberate. That trap where I go off on a tangent and lecture others about why they should have no reason to be depressed, while forgetting that depression is simply a secondary emotion. It is the cloak of what lies beneath. It’s the guard that keeps us safe from facing what we truly fear. At least it has been for me on many occasions. The underlying fear of rejection, or potential of being insignificant kept me recoiled in the safe space that I created for myself. Worse still, the fear of failure on a grand scale that would rob me of any shards of credibility that I was clinging to.

    But it’s so easy to forget all that when I see myself reflected in the weary grimaces of others. Because I’ve seemingly risen above my last entanglement with the darkness, my ego drives me to believe that I’m in a position to tell others how to do it. I’m not. I never was. And I suddenly regret every indulgence that led me to spew unsolicited advice to those that seemed to be in a space darker than my own. I know it’s not what I needed. I know it’s not what turned the tables for me, because no matter how much someone says about the right things to do to escape that darkness, it was only when I detached myself from the experiences that weighed me down that I realised that the experience didn’t define me. The callous or crass behaviour of others was not a reflection of my worth. It was simply an insight into their weaknesses and fears. But they projected it on me, and I was a willing victim because I didn’t believe I was worth any more than they allowed me to be.

    I was wrong. In more ways than one, I was wrong. Sometimes getting it wrong turned out beautifully, and sometimes it drove me further away from reality. But getting it wrong was never the end of the road. It was always the beginning of a new one.

  • Letter to Allah.

    blackaurora:

    Dear Allah,

      You know I love you.  I love you so much.  You’re the only source of hope and positivity in my life.  Allah, I have learned so much about islam and You and myself because of this incredible pain that you’ve laid on my shoulders to test me.  I used to feel angry at reading about how I’m supposed to be thankful for the tests you give me because I thought that they were too much.  But then I saw what You mean.  I saw how differently and how much more clearly I can see and appreciate my blessings after having gone through this agonizing pain.  And so yes, I am thankful for having gone through it and I am honored that you think highly enough of me to test me with this incredible burden.

    But Allah.. Please, take it away now.  I cannot handle this burden anymore.  I do not want to spend my days hoping to be able to cry because my agony is so deep that I can’t even do that anymore.  I don’t want my “good days” to be so empty anymore.

    I know, my Lord, that this life is temporary and fleeting and the End is what matters.  I also know that my pain is nothing compared to what millions of others go/have gone through.. nothing compared to the struggles of the blessed Prophets.  But I am weak, my Lord.  I promise, I will try to make you proud.  I know you know how hard I struggle with various things each day.  Of course you know, you are the All-Knowing one.  

    But Allah, I need your blessings now.  My Lord, I am honored to be a bearer of your tests but my strength is failing now.  Please lift the burdens before I break.  Please offer me some relief.  Please ease the agonies of my soul.  Please free me of my afflictions.  Please, Lord, grant me some comfort. 

    I ask for your forgiveness for being so weak.  And I hope that you will shower me with your Great Mercy, ya Ar-Rahman, even though I may not deserve it. 

    O one who loves me more than 70 mothers would, my Lord, dry my tears now.  Heal my soul.  Cure my illnesses.  Ease my bodily pains.  Ease my mental afflictions.  Ease the aching of my shredded heart.  Help me fill the holes inside.  Grant me comfort.  Because only You can.  Ameen.

  • Choices

    The brain numbing effects of medication is scary. Ever since I took a mood stabiliser and an anti-depressant a few years ago, I’ve been hyper-sensitive to side effects in other medication that may have the slightest influence on moods or anxiety levels. The knee jerk reaction of most people that I mention this to is to suggest that the symptoms are entirely psychosomatic. However, they’re wrong every time because they say that on the assumption that I read the insert of the medication before taking it. I don’t. I usually take the medication, then observe the changes in my moods and behaviours (I’m weird like that) and then, if I can’t explain the changes, I go searching for answers. 

    This week I’ve been in bed with a combination of the flu, pharyngitis and a touch of bronchitis. The previous time this happened, the anti-biotic that was prescribed for me by my doctor caused me to get really aggressive and short-tempered. I only realised it after three days had passed, at which point I promptly reviewed the side-effects, honed in on the potential impact, and discontinued the anti-biotic (against my doctor’s advice since you are required to complete the course once started), and within a day or two, I felt my normal self again.

    This week, a different anti-biotic was prescribed, and on the first night that I took it, I had graphic nightmares and woke up almost every hour on the hour, or in between as well, with the nightmares continuing like a sequel each time I fell asleep. This was highly unusual for me. Again, against the advice of my doctor, I discontinued the course of anti-biotics and requested an alternative. The alternative is much better and the side-effects have been much more bearable. 

    When I share my views about depression and mood altering medication, I’m speaking from first hand experience, and never conjecture. The reasons I took those meds to begin with are anything but ordinary, so you would most likely be horribly mistaken if you tried to guess what it was. The effects of the medication this week is still wearing off, with the current course of anti-biotics set to run for a few more days. 

    This seems like a really pointless post, but there’s an uneasiness that I feel when I consider how lightly or readily most people take medication without any concern for the lasting impact it has on their health. I’m not the healthiest person around, but given some of my life’s experiences, more than one doctor expressed surprise at the fact that I have not had a major life event yet (that’s doctor speak for a heart attack, or something worse). The point is, we need to live consciously. Most people don’t. Most of the time we’re so focused on fitting in and conforming that we forget to think about what is or isn’t good for us. It’s the common herd mentality. Try to suggest that the herd is wrong, and I guess my recent abrasive discussions on Tumblr with some sheep clearly demonstrates what happens. You get bullied and maligned until you conform. I choose not to conform because I see how pathetic conformance makes others. 

    I guess this is just a really long-winded plea for people to start taking themselves more seriously. Rather than accepting whatever criticisms you get from others, spend time reflecting on your own principles, motivations and merits that drive you to be who you are. If the criticism confirms that, and you’re comfortable that that is who you choose to be, then great. You’re on the right track, even if it means that you’re the odd one out. If you compromise your principles in the hope of being more socially acceptable, you will, not maybe, not likely, but definitely will be setting yourself up for a whole lot of pain. 

    Our past only rules our hearts and minds as long as we’re oblivious to the fact that it is in fact the past. 

  • Labels and Life

    For everyone that thought my points about labels were uncalled for, take a look at this video if you haven’t seen it already. Positive affirmation is as powerful as negative affirmation. Continuously telling someone that they can’t do something or be a certain way eventually convinces them that it is true. I wish people would stop being so reckless with their lives. I wish people would stop believing that they always need fixing. I wish people would just learn to be real and stop pursuing the fake ideals that they gluttonously swallow from Hollywood, Bollywood, etc.

    (Source: http://www.youtube.com/)

  • Wow, I seriously haven't felt this much rage toward a person since my ex raped me. Thanks for telling me that basically I'm the cause of my own depression because I'm "not positive" enough to think myself out of my situation. Surprise, douchebag. I'm an incredibly positive person and yet I still suffer from depression. Wanna explain to me how that works? Yeah, you're a fucking privileged idiot. Shut the fuck up.

    Ok, so here’s a few free pointers for you.

    Firstly, don’t bother using the Anon feature when it’s blatantly obvious who you are because that just confirms your troll behaviour that you really should give up.

    Secondly, try getting the full picture before you go mouthing off at someone so that you don’t make a total ass of yourself when you’re trying to tell them where to get off.

    Thirdly, you and your groupies should stop your pathetic victim mentality crap and stop assuming that every person that disagrees with you, or call you out on your illogical rubbish is actually white. So here’s a newsflash for you. I’m not white. Never was white. Don’t ever intend to be white. And don’t have any white blood in my ancestry either. But I still think you’ve got issues well beyond anything I stated in my post that you so passionately oppose, and that’s coming from a non-white, so can you imagine how bad your issues must be? 

    Lastly, for you and some of your followers that can’t rationalise the rage they feel, here’s a few free words of advice for you. Anger is caused by only three things ever. And this was told to me by a black American about 20 years ago, so pay attention now. By the way, I’m of Indian origin born and bred in South Africa, so don’t talk to me about privilege because I lived in a racially divided society without any option because it was the law of the state to keep us segregated in that way. You were born at least two generations after such racial segregation was outlawed in your country, so it seems you need to wake up and smell the coffee at some point.

    Back to the advice about anger, only three things cause it. If you can think of a fourth thing, you’re better than every psychologist, philosopher and sage that has lived for the last few centuries, if not longer. So here goes:

    1. Fear of being incompetent – when you feel like someone is challenging your competence, or suggesting that you’re incompetent, you get angry
    2. Fear of being disliked – when you feel like you’re losing points in the popularity stakes, you get angry because everyone wants to be liked/likeable/popular
    3. Fear of insignificance – when you feel as if your presence or personal needs don’t count in a situation or relationship, you get angry because you feel insignificant. 

    My guess is, you and some of your followers are most prone to the last option. Get a grip and get the full picture before you go mouthing off your vulgarities at people you know nothing about. I survived more abuse in my life than you would ever imagine, the details of which is absolutely none of your business. But if you’re going to take the time to troll me, at least have the presence of mind to do your homework before you feel like venting without thinking.

    As for all the uninformed reblogs your vulgarity attracted, I guess that is testament to the fact that most people are victims, hence the insanely high rate of violence in the world today.