Forthnights

Crying for lunatics.

I went to General Hospital today to see a friend. This friend, suffering from some sort of depression and maybe something more, we're not sure, admitted herself in. This was the same person that tried committing suicide few weeks ago. Apparently, she wanted to go see a psyciatric and then at the hospital decided she wanted to be admited into the psychiatric ward. Now, the doctor did not insist that she should be admitted but she wanted it herself. According to her, she has some issues she wants to work out. But from the way she did things and the way she spoke, there is some speculation if she actually wanted attention instead of real therapy.

Obviously, she got a little more that was she bargained for. We warned her that the psychiatric ward isn't exactly a nice place to be in, but she wanted it so. When we got there, not unlike in the movies, the place was fool of lunatics. There were people jumping in front of the wall, others talking to themselves, and some of them came up to us, shaking our hands, as if we were best of friends. Many asked us to lend them the things we had like our phone, or food, pen, or whatever they saw. Others looked just fine, with their families visiting them. The ones that seemed normal, i would guess, maybe suffered from depression also and was on medication. Because they haven't seem to lost it yet. But then, there was my friend, among this bunch of very emotionally needy people. I asked myself if she really should be here. Afterall, i didn't see how any of the people there were ever going to get better. The place was just so miserable and depressing, how can anyone nourish their soul, or believe that they can get better when they are stuck among other even worst people compared to themselves? I don't think the hospital management can do anything either. It's in over its head with the limited staff and funding from the government.

Speaking to my friend, she sees herself not as one of them obviously. She calls them all gila, but obviously she has some issues too. It seems to me she's fighting her own set of demons. On the exterior she seems just fine. But touch a nerve and why she's here starts to show. Its very strange to me why anyone would want to be admitted, especially when she at least still can think rationally. Suffering from depression hardly seems the right reason to go there, and if anything, it'll make it worst, staying in a place that is so unconductive, plus the stigma and impression others get when they find out she was admitted into a psychiatric ward.

My mother, fought long and hard in refusing to be admitted into a psychiatric ward. She knew that she too was suffering from depression, but refused to go on medication and be labeled a psychiatric case. The moment i stepped into the ward, my heart grew heavy. Not for my friend who was there. SHe brought it onto herself. I felt my heart thinking to a few years ago. My mother had been admitted into a psychiatic ward. I never had a chance to visit her in there. I knew my mother wasn't well, but i never really believed that my mothers place was among a bunch of lunatics. Going into the ward, my thoughts went to my mother. The many times that she was in the ward, she never had any visitors. It really broke my heart looking at the people there because my mother had to endure all these kind of people during her stay. People sidelined and rejected by society. Cared only by their direct family. And my own mother didn't even receive that.

I struggle to accept just how severe is my mothers psychiatric problems. At times, i just feel that she has totally lost it. But then, she surprises me sometimes, because in all her blaber, she would suddenly very real and very true and sane things. She would give advice, talk about her past without even a trace of anything, maybe except a lot of sadness. It is this glimmer of her true self that makes me just refuse to believe that my mother is totally lost. She used to be a nurse, used to raise the both of us up just fine. She wasn't the very extroverted and fun loving type of person, but i still love to hear her laugh. Its the most beautiful sound in the world to me. I know she has been lonely and sad for the past 9 years, and to me, listening to her laughter sooths my heart. At least in that moment of laughter, she truely has all the sad things out of her mind. When i hear her laugh, somehow i feel like crying. Because i blame myself for not being by her side all these years, and make her laugh more often. Instead, for months and months at a time she is alone. Imagine what it is like going on for months, staying alone in a house without another soul in sight for you to talk with or laugh with. Just a piercing silence that goes on and one.

Sometimes, at night when i can't sleep, i think of her. Or when i'm having a lot of fun, i think of her. Thinking about how she is and what she is doing, and more importantly, what she is thinking about. Then, with dread, i realise that i know the answer. The answer is that she is alone, and she hasn't been thinking about anything else for the past few years except her two sons. And it breaks my heart even more. There was one time, i was having an arguement with her. I was so angry and was just scolding her, and she was fighting me back. But then she suddenly stops and starts crying. When i asked her why, she tells me she is scared. Scared that she dies, alone in that house and since she has no friends or family, no one would know. Only when her body is decomposed and stinky would the neighbours realise, and even longer before the news reaches us. And when we find her, her body would be stinky, ugly and decomposed. To die, without anyone even realising or caring that you have gone until your body stinks. That is her worst fear. That night, i couldn't take it anymore, i broke down and cry like i hadn't for years. I was totally devastated by what she said, and i blamed myself

I have only cried in front of people only a few times in my grown up life. It takes a lot to get me to that point, and when i do, i always do it alone. No doubt, i would love to confide in someone and cry my heart out to them, but most people just ask you to stop crying. Trying to console by saying its not my fault and dont cry. But then it wont help. Maybe being a guy people dont expect us to cry but face things like a man. Trust me, i try to. But even guys are humans. When i feel so down and miserable (mostly about my mother) there are no word that can adequately express my feelings. I just want to let the tears and the sorrow buried so deep inside to come out. If i dont do that, it'll just build up more and more, and i have no outlet. That's why i cry alone. Because though theres no one to comfort me, no one will ask me to stop, and the tears rolling out and the aching in my heart all help me release my emotions and comfort me. I dont have to worry about troubling people, dont have to worry if im making a fool or myself and nobody thinking im some kind of cry baby.

I understand why women cry sometimes, because i feel it to. But as a guy, i dont carry my heart on my shoulder. On the way back from the hospital, i was very sad. Couldn't help thinking about my mother. But i didn't show it. Some people intentionally half act like they are ok. They want you to ask them and find out from them what is bothering them. But they dont want to be telling you. They want to be asked and be care for instead. But i try not to do that. I just carry on, carry a smile on my face and talk like there's nothing bothering me at all. It works because i totally surpress that emotion at that moment. But at moments like now, when im alone, that these emotions come back. There's no hiding it. I can surpress my feelings for a while, but even i cant lie to myself thinking that i dont feel sad about it when there is nothing and no one to hide from.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 2:19 am Comments: 0