Tag: victims

  • The quick sand of my mind

    The quick sand of my mind

    The icy breaths that leave my mouth on a miserably cold morning is the only accurate reflection of the emotions that stir within.

    I see messages proclaiming that love is the answer to the world’s problems, but they don’t realise that most don’t know how to love. It’s the arrogance of the assumption that if we had it, they must have had it too.

    I met a calloused soul today. One who was so steeped in her victim-hood, that she couldn’t grasp her contribution towards the destruction of an innocent soul. So vile was her gaul, that she stepped forward uninvited to offer comfort towards the crushed innocent, completely oblivious to her contribution towards the state in which she found the little one.

    Such is the dementia of those who believe themselves to be above reproach because they didn’t actively participate in the abuse of the meek, but only sat quietly on the sidelines observing it play out, waiting patiently for their moment to leech significance by offering comfort to the one whom they abandoned in their moment of need.

    The bile rises to my throat, desperately wanting to clothe such contemptuous beings in the only fluid capable of digesting their caustic character. But my desire to be distanced from such hair-encrusted soap scum leaves me seething in my efforts to maintain my composure, torn between wanting to shake some sense into them, while simultaneously convulsing at the thought of touching them.

    This world is not big enough to create enough distance between me and them, with death offering the only path to peace.

    Sometimes, the most expensive lessons we learn in life are a result of trusting the wrong person. Once more, as I contemplate this reality, I find myself repulsed by those who cast frivolous quotes into the ether of blind optimism and toxic positivity, believing foolishly that doing the right thing will only yield positive results.

    If this torturous world was so easily subdued through the persistence of a positive thought, why then do so many innocents destroy themselves in search of such goodness? Why then are the starving still hungry, the abused still defiled, and the gluttonous still leading?

    The victim mindset is the greatest oppressor of the kind-hearted. The self-pitying soul is the most ungrateful of them all, and the martyr the saddest.

    Tonight, I find myself adrift on an icy lake. Not carried by tranquil waves or exaggerated ripples, but instead, sliding uncontrollably in no particular direction, finding comfort in the movement, but no fulfilment in the futility of its course.

    Wishing away reality does not change it. It simply adds it to the burden of those who are more aware of the impact of that which you wish away. Such is the reality of the victim mind set. So focused on its own struggle, that it grows criminally oblivious to the oppression it imposes on those around them. When they withhold their contribution towards uplifting others, they prioritise their efforts of desperation to have their own struggles honoured first.

    See my hurt before you ask me to see yours. Such is the pathetic indulgence of those who believe that their struggle is the only struggle of such epic proportions that lesser mortals will crumble if only they had to endure the same fate.

    Thus, surrendering to fate becomes the ultimate protest of the coward. The one who abandons rationality and choice in favour of embellishing their selfishness with a cloak of proclaimed vulnerability.

    I feel the bile rising again.

  • To Breathe Again

    To Breathe Again

    There are few things more exhausting than the plague of insincerity from those that find a constant need to explain their drama and their dreams under the pretense of seeking sincere advice to overcome their hurdles. 

    Soliciting advice while professing not to have the answers ourselves, then discarding that advice in favour of taking the easy way out reflects the deficit of conviction in our soul. 

    A deficit of conviction leads to an empty existence, embellished with an outward show of struggles, while concealing an inward turmoil of loneliness as we go through life seeking associations with others that may define who we are. 

    Loneliness is more burdensome when we lack affection for who we are. 

    Lacking affection for who we are results from a lack of courage to live with conviction because we believe that our worth is defined by the acceptance of others before it is defined by our acceptance of ourselves. 

    Accepting ourselves demands that we take a brutally honest view of who we are and what we stand for, but our timid souls protect us from such realities and turn us into victims. 

    As victims, we require a support structure that recognises our weaknesses as battle scars, while ignoring our contribution towards growing so apparently weak. 

    Our contribution towards our weakness, or our impotent state, demands a sense of accountability for the decisions we took and the choices we made. 

    Accountability becomes unnecessary when we’re protected from the reality of it by those that seek to comfort us in moments of weakness while they seek such comfort as well. 

    Seeking commonality in weakness and then building a support structure to celebrate the triumph of existing in spite of such weakness is a fool’s profession of courage to the world. 

    Victims are emboldened in their need to hold others accountable for their (victim’s) choices when the support structure that they subscribe to is formed by equally celebrated victims. 

    Celebrating the weaknesses of others as a statement of courage denies them the motivation needed to emerge from the state of weakness. 

    When our state of weakness defines our significance to those around us, and in turn solicits the affection and care that we desire, we will fight with a blinding rage against anyone that threatens the reality that we’ve created for ourselves. 

    A sobering moment at an unexpected intersection in our lives is all that is needed to shatter the alternate reality that we clung to for so long. 

    A shattered reality forces us to reinvent ourselves in the face of adversity. 

    Forced reinvention in the face of adversity is considerably more challenging than reinvention from introspection. 

    In the absence of courage to reinvent ourselves, we will seek out new avenues to play the old script of pity that is needed for a battle weary soldier. 

    Pity begets pity, and the slide into self loathing will gain momentum. 

    Self loathing constricts our ability to prevail in the absence of a support structure that celebrates our weaknesses, leaving us with the tough decision to either prevail, or willingly fail. 

    The choice we make at this point will either see us emerge from that constricted space and embrace the reality of who we are capable of being, or see us resign ourselves to a scrap heap of souls that found it easier to blame the world for their misery than to live with conviction. 

    If we choose the former, we’ll suddenly breathe deeper and realise that we were simply gasping for air until the arrival of this new reality that we chose to embrace. 

    If we choose the latter, our chests will continue to constrict, until eventually we will suffocate on the bile of the self loathing that we nurtured for so long while waiting for sympathy to make us feel whole. 

    To breathe, rather than gasp, we must live with conviction, and have the courage to see ourselves for who we are and not how others perceive us to be. 

    We always show our best side to society, and hide the worst for the quiet moments of torment that is rarely shared with others. In those quiet moments, we either learn to love ourselves, or loathe ourselves, and the choices of others has no bearing on those moments whatsoever. 

  • When Understanding Goes Too Far

    I sometimes watch the wayward behaviour of some while observing the contempt of others that are watching it play out, and wonder who between the two are less aware of their actions or motivations to behave that way. The ones among us that are of a softer nature will look on and seek to understand why someone may be acting out, afraid that judging them for acting out may be too harsh. The world is harsh enough as it is, and only getting harsher each day, so I guess there is merit in such an approach.

    At times, when we’ve had enough to deal with in our own lives, we look on with intolerance, demanding that the wayward behaviour be checked, because if no one is willing to accept such behaviour from us, why should we accept it from others? Right? But demanding change without offering a solution helps no one. It only exacerbates the already toxic state of the relationship or the environment around us. It provokes the wayward ones to escalate their protest against whatever it is that they refuse to accept, and it frustrates those that seek to understand.

    Moderation in all things is always called for. Demand without understanding, and you lose credibility when the solution becomes obvious later on. Understand without demanding, and you lose credibility when the demands foster the change that was needed to break the cycle. Do either without the other, and you resign yourself to an end of insignificance. Unfortunately, doing both requires purposeful conviction. Not blind conviction. Not the kind of conviction that is driven by a self-belief of what we stand for but for which we are rarely capable of defending when challenged. That belief that we insist on being respected despite not knowing why, but only knowing that through receiving such respect for our beliefs, we feel significant and less threatened.

    Purposeful conviction. You’d think it was easy given that it’s a simple matter of cause and effect, but of a different kind. You recognise the cause that you wish to champion, and you put your efforts into effecting the change needed to support that cause. Problem is, most don’t recognise the cause, they only recognise the affiliation. The need to be associated with something meaningful or relevant, rather than establishing meaning and relevance through their own actions and contributions.

    It’s all well and good to understand. But the failing of many is that we stop at understanding. We spend much time and energy in achieving that state, but then avoid taking steps to remedy the causes that we now understand leads to that unacceptable behaviour. Being perceived as understanding in nature makes us popular with those that don’t want to change, those that prefer acting out, being rebellious, and refusing to accept accountability for their state because they find it much more convenient and less taxing to blame others, or circumstances.

    The ones that act out, and are left to act out, become masters at presenting their tantrums as legitimate gripes or demands. They often end up being the bullies, the type A personalities, and the abusers. They become the oppressors that they grew up whining about. And those that sought only to understand but chose not to curtail such behaviour, or offer healthier forms of expression, they feed that cycle. They enable such outcomes, and they become the liberals. The ones that stand for nothing, understand everything, and fall for every whimper regardless of how incredulous the whimper is.

    Understanding is only ever the first step, and never the last. There is no point in seeking to understand if you intend to do nothing more than reflect on that knowledge that you have gained. Understanding must inform our decisions to act. Not acting is a decision in itself, but it’s usually the easy way out. It’s often under the pretense that we don’t want to get involved because we have enough problems of our own, or it’s none of our business. And that’s how the cycles of violence, intolerance, and abuse in society spiral out of control. It’s because those that understand do nothing, while those that do not understand act without guidance.

    Prompting someone towards having the courage to take control of their lives, regardless of what came before, is more selfless than it is selfish. Too often we’re distracted by the assumption that by demanding more, we’re behaving selfishly because we don’t understand how difficult it is for that person to be who they are if only we knew what they’ve been through. That is a horrid distortion of the truth. The truth is closer to the fact that leaving them to succumb to their past is in fact selfish, because prompting them to rise above it is often met with resistance and contempt, both of which erode your sense of significance or likeability in that relationship. So when you withhold advice or decide not to take action because you don’t want to be ‘the bad one’, you’re behaving selfishly. Standing up and being counted in a time when guidance and good advice is needed, not necessarily wanted, takes more courage and is much more selfless than shutting up and minding your own business.

    We have far too many that shut up and mind their own business, except when they enjoy the anonymity of social media and similar platforms, because once again, there is limited (if any) risk of them becoming unpopular in the relationships that they covet. I suspect that the point of this post has been made somewhere between all the venting, but at the risk of being redundant. It’s simply this. Seeking to understand is a noble first step. But it’s only a first step. Don’t stop there. Take the knowledge that you gained through that process and apply it with conviction in a meaningful way. Don’t be a passive observer of life, or the lives of others. Have the courage to change it for the better.

  • Firefighter Syndrome

    I’ve heard this term firefighter syndrome used loosely over the years, most often referring to people that have a tendency to want to rush in and fix things without thinking it through. Not suggesting that firefighters don’t think things through, but I’m sure you get the picture. You know, like the saying that if all you have is a hammer, then every problem looks like a nail? Similarly if everything you see looks like a fire then rushing in to put it out seems like the sensible thing to do. In fact, it almost seems like an inspired calling in life. 

    My experience with this mentality has been somewhat different though. For me, the fire represents an opportunity to be significant and the firefighter represents the one that seeks significance in a crisis situation. It reminds me of an incident a good few years ago in Cape Town. The famed fynbos on Table Mountain and surrounding areas had caught alight due to the recklessness of a smoker (no pun, just the truth) during the dry season.  Their carelessly discarded stompie (a.k.a. cigarette butt) caused the fire to burn out of control for weeks, killing off acres and acres of fynbos and forests. A subsequent investigation revealed that the government agency responsible for managing forest fires in that area had routinely dowsed the flames from fires that started up over the years. Those smaller fires would have resulted in a natural culling of the density of growth,  but by preventing it from self regulating, they created a perfect setting for a perfect brush fire. As a result, when the mother of all fires started, the rate with which it spread was beyond any expectations, and it burned out of control without anyone being able to contain it.

    Too often we convince ourselves that it’s a selfless act to sacrifice our own comforts and well being to alleviate the discomfort or struggles of another. Sometimes that may be true, but most often, it’s not. Most often it is simply a form of escapism from our own lives. It’s easier to feel significant and celebrated when we contribute towards the upliftment of others, than it is to resolve some of the challenges that we are faced with. By focusing on the fires of others we achieve two key objectives. Firstly, we have a seemingly legitimate reason not to reflect on our own problems because of the constant busyness associated with being there for everyone else, and secondly, we provide a very meaningful distraction for them to avoid any opportunity to focus on us. Or more importantly, allowing them to see the mess of gaping holes in our lives. 

    Yes, there is merit in indulging in the upliftment of others, provided such indulgence is not an escape or deprivation of what we need for ourselves to be whole. Also, its merit only remains credible as long as we are convinced that the whole of us is not of more value to the world than the assistance that we offer others. This is especially true when we find that their cries for help are usually not much more than a variation of our own self defeating behaviours. While busying ourselves with helping others provides us with the distraction needed as described earlier, for some, reaching out for help to lift themselves out of their challenged state is their way of getting the affirmation needed to justify their weakness. 

    Consider it from this perspective. The one that is knocked over and finds that their dignity has taken an equal beating as their ego, will find that the shortest path back to a dignified state is found in obtaining the recognition from others that being overwhelmed under such circumstances is entirely understandable. It’s a vicious cycle of sympathy. The one recognises and relates to the weakness of the other because they would desire such sympathy and understanding if they were in a similar position, and the weakened one saves face by appearing downtrodden and therefore oppressed by the circumstances they find themselves in which appeals to our compassion for long enough to distract us from questioning the choices made by the victim that landed them in that state to begin with.  

    How does this relate to the firemen syndrome? I think it encourages a shared weakness in society that supports the abdication of responsibility for our contribution to the straitened circumstances we may find ourselves in. It also encourages the mentality of victimhood. That belief that we’re only strong if we have someone from whom to draw strength when we lack purpose or meaning in our lives. I think that is exactly what it all boils down to. When we lose sight of the value we wish to contribute to this world, or worse, when we lack such convictions to begin with, we look for opportunity to draw on the energies of others in ways to sustain our fragile ego without admitting such fragility. 

    Like the self regulating brush fire, if we constantly protect others from themselves by helping them up when they are entirely capable of standing up by themselves, eventually they will find no use for their own legs or their backbone, and we’ll find ourselves overwhelmed with the burden of having to maintain their fragility because of the unwavering support we provided that protected them from having to grow up. 

    Sometimes the greatest help we can offer is a clear view of reality, not a shelter from it. The more we invest in protecting others from reality, the more we limit our capacity to improve our own. Before you think this is a selfish way to live, consider who is more dependable in times of genuine need. The one who was protected from becoming a fully formed adult, or the one that has grown stronger and independent from the knocks that life has dealt? 

  • The Ebb and Flow of Mediocrity

    I’ve often found myself considering restraint in sharing my knowledge with some, because of the ridiculous assumption that in doing so, I may render myself redundant. But then I started considering previous times when I did share such knowledge and noticed how few embraced it. It’s really simple, this whole leadership thing. Take accountability for who you are, and lead by example. If you have the conviction, it will hold you in good stead, if you don’t, you’ll be a victim. Based on the simplicity of it all, I assumed that it would be readily adopted by most, given how sincerely everyone chants about their desire to rise above their circumstances. I’ve since discovered that those chants are hollow. It’s the quiet conviction that is evident only in action that holds any truth these days.

    The vast majority are so secure in celebrating their struggles, that they refuse to grasp a reality without it. They’ve chosen to be defined by their struggles. The rest of the meek look up to them as martyrs fighting the good fight, but refusing to see the self-deprecating behavior that keeps them firmly in that cycle because recognising such behaviour will inevitably lead to a self-realisation that will shake their world. I would never have believed that success was so daunting to so many if I didn’t witness it first hand. But it can’t be success, can it? I mean, everyone spends their lives trying to be successful in some way or another, so perhaps it’s their definition of success, the subconscious definition that needs to be questioned.

    I think too many of us define a reality of success that is different to our dream of success. We create goals that are based on ideal outcomes, and then look around to see our less-than-ideal circumstances, and resign those goals to being mere ideals and therefore unattainable. Then we focus on what is realistically achievable based on our current circumstances, measure that against our past successes, and calibrate our expectations of success against that. Little do we realise that in so doing, we have just defined mediocrity, and lost sight of true success. So what is true success then?

    I think true success is where our ideals meet with our convictions, so that we find ourselves creating the circumstances we need to achieve the idealistic goals that we desire. However, this demands a healthy ego, and an equally healthy passion driven by purpose. The one without the other is a recipe for humiliation. The ego is needed to establish the conviction that convinces us that we are capable, while the purpose driven passion is what keeps us focused on the outcome we set out to achieve. Again, sounds simple enough, yet so many still get it wrong. Why?

    The answer to that question, I believe, is easier than most would like to accept. It’s not the fear of success that holds us back, but the fear of accountability. Letting go of a struggle that has come to define who we are inevitably leaves us wanting when that struggle no longer holds true. And in there lies the ebb and flow of mediocrity. Some go through a lifetime redefining that struggle in order to ensure that it always holds relevance, while just a few shrug off the stigma of their struggles and choose to reinvent themselves as many times as is needed to get closer to the ideals of their dreams.

    The world is full of meekness clothed in aggression and pompous displays of trophies. When such is the prevailing reality, it stands to reason that those with purpose will be scorned as dreamers who will amount to nothing, until they do, followed by the masses swaying to celebrate the triumphs that they themselves scorned to begin with. Success by association is the food for the masses. It gives more people purpose than purpose itself.

    Contemplating this leaves a distinctly bitter after taste about the state of this world I find myself in. The difficulty of not being one of the masses in a society that has polarized towards group thinking and collective accountability, is that finding your success can be an intensely lonely path, leaving any subsequent embrace in the face of success deprived of sincerity.

  • Recalibration and Resuscitation

    There are moments when my resolve gives way to feelings of surrender. It usually accompanies moments in my life when I realise that my expectations are consistently exceeding my reality, often relative to those around me. Initially I find myself rejecting the simple truth that that holds, but eventually the unintended cycle of recalibrating my expectations begins. Recalibration for me is like rising to the surface for a breath of air before submerging again into the sea of expectations that pervade my life.

    In the absence of this cycle, I find myself growing persistent in my justified views of what should be expected from those around me. As much as I have my rights to those expectations, its unfulfilled reality strips me of the peace that would otherwise be enjoyed should those rights have been fulfilled. It was in contemplating this that I realised that life is all about victims and oppressors, with a smattering of humanity in between. When we recognise and fulfil our rights towards those around us, we become humane. The moment we fall short or overstep those bounds, we become either oppressors or victims respectively.

    The challenge with this realisation though is that most people are so immersed in their need to be fulfilled, that they have long since lost sight of the rights that others have over them. The overwhelming majority of those that still breathe today are victims of circumstance, and mostly of themselves. It is this reality that forces the need for recalibration because in the normal course of life, everything being equal, and all parties fulfilling their rights before demanding their expectations, such recalibration will not be needed because the natural order will be maintained. Withholding our contribution towards the fulfilment of the rights of those around us disrupts that order, and more often than not we are the ones withholding in response to us being the disgruntled recipients of the effects of that very same disorder.

    Simply stated, we easily forget to notice that we often impose oppression on those around us because of an oppression that we may have experienced at a different time in our lives. Unless we stop to reflect on the reality of when we slip into that victim state of mind, chances are great that we will find ourselves being party to the very same oppression that we decry. In my short life I have witnessed the worst oppression being meted out by those who viewed themselves as victims before anything else. Moments like those are often what prompted the need for recalibration. In the face of such victim-inspired oppression, it made no sense to persist in my expectation of having my rights fulfilled by one that was oblivious to it. Recalibration, at that point, allowed me a moment to resuscitate myself from the suffocation of the imbalance around me.

    I’ve also recently realised that my pursuit for balance, and therefore logical conclusions, is core to my frustrations with those around me. People behave emotively before they consider logic. I’m often reminded of the verse from the Qur’an that states that everything was fashioned in due proportion. Such proportion I believe is not limited to just our physical form, but instead, to every single law that governs our existence. When that balance is disrupted, ill health and mental strife follow, often manifesting itself as oppression, or victim-hood.

    Recalibration is therefore not simply an indulgence in seeking a meditated balance in my life. It is a tool for survival. Survival from the insanity that parades as humanity. Survival from the chaos that I am inclined by nature to unravel and restore into an ordered state. Resistance to that order is what oppresses me, which oddly enough is the resistance of a victim to contribute towards an order that they were denied, and therefore refuses to break the cycle, choosing to pay it forward instead.

    My efforts at recalibration used to be sub-conscious. In recent times it has become a conscious need, and with it, the mindfulness of what I need to surrender in the process drives my ego to resist my efforts at recalibration because of the need to sacrifice my own benefits in favour of sanity. The moment we place more emphasis on our rights than we do on our sanity, we become a threat to the morbid peace enjoyed by those around us.

  • From Disappointment, to Despondence, to Depression

    I saw a meme this week that suggested that the reason a baby cries at the time of birth is because that experience is the worst experience of its life. It seemed like just an interesting observation at first, but later I realised that it spoke volumes about perception and reality. Several incidents since then, including the passing of Robin Williams prompted me to revisit many aspects of how poorly we define our own realities.

    At times in my life when I was riding the crest of the wave, I found myself mildly annoyed by the actions of others that did not meet my expectations. It was easy enough to shrug off because I had enough else happening in my life that made me feel accomplished and relevant. So I would ignore it and instead polarise towards those groups or activities that bred positivity in my life. After some time, the trend of being disappointed by the actions of significant others seemed to grow, and given a few stumblings of my own, I found those disappointments weighing down on me much heavier than before. Suddenly I didn’t have the abundance of good vibes from the crest of the wave to keep me grounded in positivity, and so I slipped from being easy going, to being disappointed.

    That disappointment grew as my reality continued to throw curve balls at me. I started wondering where did I make a wrong turn. When did the wave throw me over so that I would find myself crashing into its trough? Blaming myself for my slide didn’t help much, and soon enough I found that the disappointment started turning into despondency and a deeply ingrained sense of sadness. That sadness lingered longer than the brief smiles I would muster. But I still found myself questioning myself. I questioned my worth to those around me who kept disappointing me, and I questioned my competence to make the right decisions to break this cycle that I found myself in, but all I ended up with were questions and no answers.

    I kept doing what I thought was the right thing, but I found myself challenged to uphold the principles that I subscribed to. The more I tried to live a principled life, the more I found people in my life demanding a response from me that would force me to choose. Be true to my principles and values, or succumb to their pressure so that I would feel included? Inclusion was another evasive aspect of my life. Perhaps that is why I find it so easy to dismiss the negativity associated with being the odd one out. So I chose to be principled, and despite being true to myself, the disappointing reaction I got from those that were encouraging me to throw caution to the wind and live a little weighed down on me even more. And so I continued to question myself, even though I couldn’t find enough reason to abandon my principles.

    So the slide into despondency continued. I looked at the pitfalls of the lives of those around me, the emptiness, the trinkets, the lies, and most of all the insincerity. All it did was make me more adamant to hold on to what I chose for myself even though holding on grew more difficult by the day. There were endless cycles of insincere ones coming into my life, celebrating my resolve, embracing my principles and me along with it, and then drifting away when the burden of commitment to our shared ideals became too burdensome for them. The moment it meant reducing their popularity with the social circles that they aspired to be a part of, they abandoned those principles because affirmation was more important. Being insincere didn’t bother them, because the people they aspired to be like were equally insincere, which made it acceptable.

    I didn’t want that for myself, and so I continued to search each time for someone that appeared sincere in their conviction to subscribe to that which I subscribed to. But the cycle ended in disappointment each time, and each time I found myself contemplating the hopelessness of it all more seriously than the last. The hopelessness quickly grew into depression until I was diagnosed as being depressed and placed on medication to help me out of what was assumed to be a clinical condition that I had acquired.

    The medication didn’t help. If anything, it made me feel numb. I didn’t want to feel numb. At least in the disappointment and the depression there was still a sense of purpose and passion. Even though that purpose and passion didn’t always bring me joy, it still gave me a reason to want to prevail. But now all I felt was numbness. My jaw tightened, but my senses dulled. I was easier for people to tolerate, but my contempt for what I saw outside of me started being redirected internally. I didn’t like the state I found myself in. I didn’t like the lack of passion or purpose that I felt, and the entire situation was unnatural. I was not me anymore, and I hated it. So I stopped. I weaned myself off my medication, visited my psychiatrist once again, and he confirmed that it was the quickest recovery he had ever seen. His praise fell on deaf ears.

    I soon realised that the medication didn’t alter what I despised in those around me. Nor did it give me reason to change my conviction about right and wrong. With or without the medication, my reality remained my reality. The only difference was, with the medication I was numb and unable to respond to it effectively, while without it I was forced to deal with the full impact of it. I chose the latter because I knew that inaction and passivity, as was my perpetual state with the medication, was not a life to be lived. It was merely an existence that made me more tolerable for others, and made others less annoying for me. At best, it was a distraction, but at worst, it was a nightmare, with me standing on the outside looking in. Those moments when I tried to scream and no sound came out. It reminded me of those dreams when I saw myself trying to drive a car that I had no control over. The lights would go out, the brakes would fail, the steering would be unresponsive, and I would end up lying upside down with the car on its roof, entirely unable to influence the outcome, and my scream remained a silent scream. That was what the medication did to me. At least without it, I could scream. I could beat my chest and curse the world. I was not powerless. And that’s when it hit me.

    My diagnosis of depression had nothing to do with a clinical state that I had acquired. Instead, my clinical state was in fact a result of my reality. My depression was my way of expressing my dissatisfaction with the world, and those that I held to be significant in my life. The more they didn’t react, the more I expressed, until eventually I forgot why I chose to express myself that way.  They stopped caring enough to even attempt to understand, and all I was left with was the reality that I was alone, with little to no joy in my life, and still surrounded by the same people that either didn’t care, or were too distracted to notice. I was not a victim of depression. Depression was my chosen form of expression. But when it didn’t yield the response I was looking for, I once again found myself asking questions for which I had no answers.

    I think that’s part of the problem in that state. The less answers I had, or more importantly, in the absence of answers that appeased my needs, I slipped further into the belief that I probably just wasn’t significant enough for anyone to want to do what was important for me. And they must know what is important for me because I had been expressing my dissatisfaction for so long that surely they could have figured it out by now if only they cared enough, right? So it stood to reason that they probably just didn’t care enough. I needed to make a choice. Continue to abandon myself in the hope that they will notice and respect me, or abandon my expectations of them and give up my principles in order to feel included.

    I chose me. I chose my principles. And most importantly, I chose to stand unapologetically for what I believe to be right, in spite of what is socially acceptable. This increased the accusations against me of having unrealistic expectations. It increased the isolation when I challenged people’s insincerity or hypocrisy, but none of it deterred me. I saw my weaknesses in those around me. Some of them put in a sincere effort to overcome it, like me. But most choose to live in denial because of the fear of losing those that they still wish would recognise their significance.

    Depression set in when I looked for people to respect those things that I felt most passionate about and instead only found ridicule and rejection instead. It set in when I abandoned myself in favour of others, only to find that they had abandoned me as well. Depression became my voice when I gave up my right to be me. But depression never defined me. It never will. It will always only ever be the most passive form of resistance I would be able to muster up against a cruel world that celebrates conformity while crying out for individuality. It will only be my chosen form of expression as long as I fear rejection from those that I despise at worst, or disagree with at best.

    I now realise that I didn’t abandon myself in favour of others. Instead, I sacrificed what I wanted in the hope that that sacrifice would bring solace and a smile to those that I thought needed it. Unfortunately, I realised too late that no amount of self-sacrifice can fill the void of an ungrateful soul. So now I give without the expectation of receiving. I live with the hope that they will realise what is important rather than being distracted by what is popular. Unfulfilled expectations of significant others can never be remedied by a pill, nor by self-harm regardless of what form it may take. Seeing people for the flawed human beings that they are is the only way to maintain your sanity in an insane society. It’s when you expect perfection from yourself, or others, or both, that you solicit for yourself the most painful reality that need not be experienced.

  • Victims and Oppressors

    It seems I created quite a stir with my views about depression and mental disorders. It’s somewhat concerning that so many people took exception to what I had to say, but hardly anyone was concerned about the vagueness and generality of the original post that encouraged professional intervention for ‘personality quirks’. 

    Worse still is the fact that hundreds of people were willing to reblog my post just to create a platform for them to hurl abuse and vulgarity at me without even trying to engage or understand the context thereof. There were a few exceptions, and where I felt it was worth my time, I dropped a note to each of them to either thank them for engaging sincerely, or to clarify my perspectives. 

    The reality is that victims are more likely to act aggressively than anyone else. In my life, whenever I was attacked physically or verbally by others, it was always plainly evident that they were responding irrationally simply because they were unable to  justify their position, or were too distracted by their self-defeating behaviours to realise that there can be an alternate view that holds merit.

    As Muslims, we believe that one of the signs of the hour approaching is that killing will become common place. Even just typing this simple line leaves me cringing at the thought of the feeble-minded that will use it to further entrench the stereotypes that they are force fed through the mass media. Nonetheless, the point is simple. The more we embellish our lives with half-truths, the less likely we are to be able to grasp the truth even if it stares us blankly in the face. 

    We live in extremes. It’s rare to find people that live as equals, but very common to find people living as victims or oppressors. All the shades of grey, let alone the colours of the rainbow, have been stifled out of our lives because we’ve become such a polarised species.