Tag: hope

  • That Nudge

    Life creeps up on us when we think we’re being smart and sophisticated by making elaborate plans to achieve things we assume is important. Then suddenly, the most subtle nudge jolts us out of that self-indulgent stupor and we realise that everything we were planning for was actually trivial and pointless.

    I recently begrudgingly settled into the assumed reality that life the way I know it is the way it will be until the end. I assumed the foetal position ready to be a martyr. I was ready to sacrifice my needs and desires for the stability and security that those around me would benefit from. But from a place I least expected, I was jolted out of my staid reality and infused with fearful hope that the fat lady is not yet ready to sing.

    I had planned in detail how I was going to explain to my daughter that she needed to be strong by herself without a mother. The arrangements I would need to make for my care should I reach an infirm age. My explanation to my estranged daughter that I had to simply make a very difficult choice in utilising my limited resources to help her sister recover from the trauma of a dysfunctional environment rather than continuing the ten year struggle with her mother to maintain a significant role in her life.

    And then the nudge came in a most unassuming form. A nudge that has unsettled my idyllic loneliness and forced me to peer out of my shell at a world that I had long grown to despise for its hypocrisy, betrayal and double standards. Part of me is whimpering in silent protest at the changes that that nudge is prompting in me, but most of me is smiling like a newly toothed baby assuming that the whole world is ready to smile with me.

    By I’m a decaying pragmatist at heart, so such euphoria will be tampered with reality no matter my romantic inclinations. My stubborn cynicism will endure a while longer until the reality of this hope is realised, because I know all too well that such hope can be fleeting, and such promise can be empty. Yet the fool in me remains hopeful nonetheless, and no matter what the outcome, I will spit in the face of futility and laugh at the fact that I hoped again, despite the gravest oaths I’d taken never to succumb to such a frivolity ever again.

  • We’re Strange

    There are no guarantees in death, except the end of life. So don’t plan on achieving peace, comfort, closure or anything else, because none of it is a given. However, life holds certainty, even though we don’t always interpret its certainty correctly. But the natural order that is established, and the laws of cause and effect that apply, will always apply, every single time. And the only thing we can control in all of this is how we respond to what we encounter along the way. 

    We can’t cause anyone else to act a certain way or feel a certain feeling any more than we are able to influence them. And we can’t influence them unless they deem us significant in the context of their lives. But just like how we apportion such significance to those that we choose or want to be significant in our lives, the same applies in reverse, but yet we fail to realise this simple truth, which is why we constantly strive to acquire the heart of some that may only have a fleeting affection for us, but in fact holds us as insignificant in the bigger scheme of their lives. 

    We erroneously believe that we get what we deserve. We don’t. We never will. This world is created for respite, not justice. It is created as an opportunity for us to perfect our own humanity, not to impose our sense of humanity onto others. We may polarise towards like-minded beings and in that be further deluded into believing that what we’re surrounded with is in fact a reflection of the world that is beyond our reach. It’s not. Our world is what we make of it. Our perceptions and expectations are products of our fears and aspirations, rarely with a healthy dose of reality. 

    We’re too afraid to be alone, that’s why we recoil at the thought of being different. Even in our differences we seek affirmation. Even when we don’t expect acceptance or adoption, we need to be acknowledged to be of some value in our being different. But when that is withheld, we assume that we’re defective and therefore inconsequential and insignificant, when in fact we quite possibly may have achieved what we’ve been striving for and dreaming about all our lives. We’re unique. But we only want to be unique if we’re unique like everyone else. 

    And then we die, hardly having lived at all, but affirmed in our mediocrity, and celebrated in our conformance, but rarely appreciated for our individuality. But we lack an appreciation of our self, and are still surprised at not being appreciated by others. We’re a strange bunch, aren’t we?

  • Surah Al-Inshirah

    One of my favourite Surahs.

    (Source: http://rollinginabysmal.tumblr.com/post/10436703873/reading-this-always-keeps-me-calm-and-sane-also)

  • I am curious to know if you understand the importance of medicinal compliance with a mental disorder? I mean, your previous post would make sense if you were against pills and chemical changing drugs prescribed to those who have imbalances but otherwise, I find it's very insensitive.

    I not only understand it, but I’ve lived it as well. I have been on anti-depressants before, I’ve flirted with suicide recklessly, and I’ve been exposed to the harsh realities of living with an extremely traumatised woman that was diagnosed with almost every mental disorder I’ve heard of. So this is not a subject I take lightly or treat flippantly.

    But I disagree that medication should be used as anything more than an intervention strategy, and I fully believe that understanding the life experiences that gave rise to the anxiety or traumatised state must be unraveled in order to reverse the psychological damage that was caused by it. If left unresolved, these same experiences will continue to spiral out of control with the focus always being on the symptoms due to being distracted from the root cause. 

    This may seem like an over simplification of this serious and sensitive issue, but it’s not intended that way at all. I’ve had significant life experiences, and witnessed many others, that support my views about the chemical imbalances being a symptom of the emotional state, and not the emotional state being a symptom of the chemical imbalances. 

    Smiling is a simple act that is proven to release hormones that make us happy. If the current mainstream approach to mental health is to be believed, then it would imply that (for example) someone who does not have any level of those happy hormones in their body would be physically unable to smile. This is absurd.

    I have personally experienced, and observed in others, that such troubled mental states are always present in individuals that have a history of either being betrayed, ill treated, bullied, molested, abused, or subjected to other unspeakable traumas earlier in life. In some cases, it’s a matter of someone growing up in a sheltered environment and are therefore unable to cope with the harsh realities of life and failure when faced with these in the absence of the support structures and comfort zones that they’ve grown accustomed to.

    The mainstream approach to dealing with the emotional turmoil that results from these when they manifest themselves in our teenage or adult phases of our lives is to teach the patient (i.e. victim) coping mechanisms to deal with the current state, assisted with medication, thereby negating any need for the individual to understand, unravel and resolve the underlying life experience/s that gave rise to the demons in the first place. 

    To answer your question more directly, having been on anti-depressants, I can assure you that I do not condone the reckless use/abuse of such medication, and that the compliance regimen must be maintained fully without ever attempting to suddenly disrupt the intake of such medication because of the disastrous effects that that has, which is why weaning oneself off the medication when needed is of critical importance. 

    But this also means that those that knowingly take drugs and alcohol and other intoxicants to be blatantly but consciously reckless are simply seeking attention because it wins them the sympathy and affection they crave because the reality of dealing with the thoughts that they actively suppress is far too daunting. In choosing to deal with our demons, we sometimes consciously, and other times sub-consciously know that it implies that we are opening ourselves up for the potential of being exposed to such betrayal or hurt again. This, I believe, is the biggest driver behind people ‘needing’ the medication to justify their mental state, rather than facing their fears and dealing with the heartlessness of others. 

  • clavicola:

    Someone knit me a scarf made out of their tears 🙁 

    Wouldn’t you rather want them to weave you a hat made out of stars?

  • Breathe. (because everything will be okay).

    august-is-over:

    It’s time to breathe every breath with conviction. Like you’ve earned them. The fight you’ve been fighting everyday for as long as you can remember. It seems to never end. And when hope of a finale comes it’s only dampened by the realisation that this particular fight was only a prequel to what is soon coming. So breathe, rest and prepare for the next round.

    It’s time to take a breath. A sigh of relief creeps between your lips and you know in that moment, the moment where all stands still and a peace creeps in just before that waft of air escapes your lips and your shoulders slouch down and the rest of you tenses to take what’s coming, you are stronger than anyone had ever thought you could possibly be. Sometimes you think you’re weak but how could you be if you’re still standing?

    And then you know. There is no running, no escape. It’s time to grab your heart and face your next battle. An alcoholic father, an addiction, an abusive husband, the stresses and strains of everyday life. They never cease to find us. No matter how far we run. So it’s time to breathe a breath that surges oxygen to awaken every dormant ounce of strength in you. Breathe and feel that peace before everything in you gets ready to fight.

  • On suicide and insecurity and…my life

    The odd thing about suicide is that it sometimes seems like a romantic end to a painful life. But if there was a single time in your life when something unexpectedly pleasant happened, it gave you a taste of hope that creates the doubt, no matter how little, that suicide may not be the answer. The fact is, we don’t know what the next moment brings, let alone tomorrow…although the trends of our lives may provide some predictability as to what to expect.

    It’s when we dismiss the notions of hope, and worse, when we dismiss the opportunities of happiness that we succumb to our nihilistic tendencies to want to find comfort in the surety of knowing, rather than the insecurity of hope. Eventually when we’re faced with the possibility of happiness, we’re reminded about the pain associated with the retraction of that happiness from our last experience, or experiences, and in typically human fashion, we avoid that which hurts us, especially if that hurt is prompted by others rather than a hurt that we choose for ourselves.

    I’ve stared death in the face more than once…and it’s not a pleasant place to be at all. It’s a conflicting place to be because no matter my conviction, my hard-wired survivalist instinct always left me uneasy about my choice to want to end my life, because in the back of my mind I knew that I was being insincere by denouncing the infinite possibilities that actually exist towards finding happiness. 

    But the greatest realisation in all this was, for me anyway, that my misery is often a making of my own choices. I’m not saying that I chose to be miserable…I always chose to pursue happiness, but the choices I made in such a pursuit had an inherent risk of making me the target of betrayal, condescension, ridicule or just blatant cruelty, not because of who I was, but because of who I sought such happiness with. I saw my fragility and vulnerability in them, and so naively assumed that they would appreciate me appreciating that tenderness in them…instead, as is the nature of those that are insecure or overwhelmed, they struck back blindingly because the realisation of their vulnerability being exposed was too daunting for them, and so the trend of their lives that taught them not to trust resulted in me being the untrusted one.

    I didn’t choose that outcome, but I did choose to risk trying to connect with a troubled soul knowing that they may not embrace me the way I was wanting to embrace them. And in knowing that I am myself a troubled soul, my naivete, coupled with my unnatural idealistic optimism compels me to continue wanting to touch the beauty that I always see lurking behind the sad eyes of kindred spirits, having absolutely no reason to believe that they would reciprocate…ever.

  • Living with hope is infinitely better than living with expectation. When I live with expectation, I erroneously convince myself that I’m entitled to so much. When I expect things from people, I assume that I’m significant enough to have such an expectation. Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Maybe they just owe me because of what I may have done for them, but then that would taint my original intentions of being selfless. So I can’t maintain such an expectation because it makes me feel insincere. And I despise insincerity. I despise selfishness. I despise people that are oblivious and complacent. They’re oxygen thieves and probably the biggest contributors to that big hole in the sky. Social liabilities.

    Hope, for me, is believing that it can be better…not necessarily that it will get better, but the realisation that it can be better seems to offer some comfort. Some hope. A distant altered reality that’s always within reach but just out of my grasp…but even if just a mirage, it gives me purpose, I think?