Assalamualaikum...
Hello, peeps! How was your day?
I just went back to my campus yesterday.
I was spending my study week at home for exactly one week.
Yet I still don't do my revision for this wednesday exam lol.
Actually I had my reason for spending my study week at home and that was, to talk.
I have been always an introverted person. Not only with people from outside, but also with my parents. I remember I was a cheerful child back then but as I am growing up until now, I have been quieter and talk less. The main cause is could be because I am the only child. However, I don't think that's the only cause because I have been always aware on changes that happened to myself.
I had been at home starting Friday. It had been weeks I had been feeling anxious and worry on how should I start the talk. Engulfed in guilt and resentment for many nights, I still didn't found myself ready for the moment. This could be like my very first real talk with my parents. However, I finally let my voice out on Saturday night. The start was absolute failure because I was crying hard due to the nervousness and desperateness. Especially, when my mother asked me "Farahin kenapa? Kenapa sedih? Farahin sakit?".
I nodded to her question. Finally, I revealed my long hidden secret. I told them how I have been suffering this overwhelming and uncontrollable emotion of depress for seven years. How I have been feeling about myself since I was still 4 or 5 until now. How I have been seriously improving myself as a person who is more positive, approachable, and open minded. It worked. It worked but by that time I had started to break. My mind had started to slowly lost a part of its function on controlling my emotions. I even showed them my seven years old scars. In my calculation, I might had revealed 70 to 80 percents out of everything.
It was a long real talk. The loudest cry I ever showed to my parents. Out of the nervousness and worry, I cried for their support and help. However, the unexpected expected that I had been unnecessarily thinking about finally happened. Their respond, their advices, the way they listened to me, somehow I started to feel smaller than I already do. A few responds that were like little cuts from many that I got from them were,
when I told my mother how I was feeling during my suicide thought attack last March
and her early respond was,
"Farahin pernah ada rasa kena rasuk tak? Mungkin masa tu bukan Farahin."
when my father started to share his past hardships and kept rephrasing this sentences,
"Tak ada apalah. Kalau terkilan, tertekan, ayah pun rasa. Tak ada apalah. Ingat Allah banyak-banyak."
I knew they meant well. Their advices were true. But somehow I felt like they could not being empathy toward my situation or they could not even tried to. Even a friend who I just knew about 2 years and still not know many things about me gave better efforts to understand my situation. I was very hurt that night. However, I stayed listening to their stories and pretending laughing to their small jokes for up to two hours before I went to my room and started crying again. The light was off, my eyes were closed, I cried until I fell asleep.
The sadness and loneliness from the talk still got me for another straight three days. I would suddenly started crying or sobbing sometimes. Even when I was enjoying laughing at the drama I was watching, the emptiness would just slipped through me in a few minutes. It won't be a few minutes if it wasn't because I tried to grab my attention and emotion back to the drama. Touch Your Heart was a good drama lol.
There was one night which my father went to my room. I was sleeping, right after maghrib but his voice calling for me from the outside woke me up. He gave a little pat on my resting hand and said, "Tidur saja. Kalau ayah tidur saja, boleh pengsan. Jangan layankan sangat. Bangun. Solat. Ingat Allah." At that time, his words, his actions, his care, it was a little healing to me but still painful. Because I still got this feeling he could not understand or imagine how I was feeling. How every little task was overwhelming and too difficult for me to get it done.
I took his advice, as he is a father and a leader. Even though to get up from bed was hard, I forced myself to take a shower and went for praying Ishak right after that. My first rakaat was bad. This feeling would came at least once a day when I was about to pray. Not very often but it was very painful. It was like "I don't deserve this. This sajadah. This telekung. This wudu'. His blessings. His protection. His everything." However, I knew I had to fight this feeling because I knew He was always here and there for His servant no matter how they look and feel. And so, I ended up sobbing during my first rakaat.
Besides feeling worthless and hopeless accompanied with suicide thought, the hardest part was when I lost feeling and willingness as His servant who deserves His blessing and protection. I kept rephrasing this to my parents during the talk, "Farah bukan tak ingat Allah. Bukan tak ingat Tuhan. Tapi Farah tak ingat diri Farah. Farah tak rasa diri ni berharga, bernilai. Farah tahu Allah selalu ada untuk Farah. Tapi apa yang Farah tahu tak bantu apa yang Farah rasa." Instead of fighting for His blessing and protection like other mukmin, I was fighting desperately for my lost willingness so I would stand as His servant.
I know my situation is hard to be understand. Indeed, no one could. How can rationality understands irrationality, isn't it? Only those with this kind of sick mind would cope with this duality desperately. But to them, to us, efforts are what matter especially from people who we really close and trust. I thought my parents are like the only strongest stick I could use to support me who are now all tired and worn out. Yes, they are. But unexpectedly they are also heavy for me to walk with. Somehow I exhaust myself more to walk them along with me instead of me trying hard to walk my weak legs.
Until here, I done my long post for tonight.
I know this is more like a toxic post and it is better to be drafted.
However, I need to satisfy my grief.
I had talked to a few friends but the grief still keep coming back sometimes.
So I ended up writing this rant.
Thank you for your time and concern.
See ya =)
Rasulullah s.a.w was depressed for 6 months when he didn't got any messages from Allah. And that was when Dhuha was sent. ='(
