I have a disease. My disease makes me very sad and causes me
to feel sorry for myself. I’m not sure if there’s a name for this disease but I
don’t think I’d like to discuss it with anyone because I’m embarrassed of it. How
can I, being fully aware of the actual pain inflicted on so many people everywhere
be so self absorbed in my vapid need for self worth?
I’m not a sex slave. I’m not physically handicapped. I’m not
an orphan. I’m not abandoned. I’m not unemployed. I haven’t seen anyone die. I’m
not financially poor. I know I should be extremely grateful. I know I should be
counting my blessings. I know I should be thanking someone. But what I do instead is go to this dark
twisted place in my head where it’s devoid of any happy connection
whatsoever. In this desolate creepy
alley of mine, I find myself being tortured by anxiety, fear, loathing, anger,
loneliness, bitterness and mostly sadness. And so I cry. That’s my symptom. This
is my illness. You see why it’s embarrassing to talk about it now? Because I
can’t explain it. I don’t know why I consciously choose to walk up that alley
since I know what I’ll find there.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t indulge in self-harm of any
kind. And I’m not suicidal either. I’m
just selfish, vain, spoilt and lost. I have to figure out a cure for this
disease before it gets to a point where I can no longer find my way back from
that alley. I have to find another escape to whatever I’m running away
from. A happier escape. One that doesn’t
leave me crying. I also need to find out what I'm running away from.
I wonder if there’s anyone else out there with similar symptoms.
I wonder if the reason why everyone’s
constantly running is so they don’t end up at that alley. I wonder if I should treat my disease the same
way. I think I’ll give it a try. Guitar classes. Philosophy workshops. Half
marathon. Book club. Volunteering. Hiking. Yoga. I think that should be a good
dosage for my disease. I’ll prescribe it for 6 months and do a self evaluation
in Jan 2015.
I do need a fallback plan though. This prescription has a very
high risk of failure based on previous experiences. But hope trumps sadness,
right? It has to. So here’s to hope. One more time. This disease has got to go.
I want to gloat in happiness. I want to bathe in the warmth of gratitude. I
want to climb the mountain of courage. I want to be swept away by a wave of fulfilment.
I want to be blinded by the faith in humanity. I want to get lost in the sound of
silence and not wind up on the dingy alley of depression again.
