Language barriers
And culture barriers too I guess.
I can feel my depression rearing its ugly head again. I can tell, because I've been feeling an unusual amount of lethargy. My sleep schedule is completely off, and even when I sleep, I don't sleep well. And now I can feel the horrid whispers, the sly hints every time I either "fail" or am overwhelmed. It's my brain again, the stupid brain that is trying to kill me.
And I seriously don't need this right now.
Out of frustration I posted it on Facebook, a mistake, because I'm not accustomed to the new format yet. I should have posted it to Close Friends only. Instead, I ended up posting it to everyone.
The people who replied were classmates, and despite being in TESOL, their English was not really good. My exact message was:
Oh god. Brain, don't do this to me. I cannot afford another cycle of depression right now. Stop trying to kill me.
I hadn't been expecting any replies. People don't tend to reply to those kinds of things. But the international (abbreviated henceforth to "I") students had no such compunctions. One girl assumed that it was just the stress of finals week and said, "Everybody's going crazy this week." Another girl commented that she thought I had written "Brian" instead of "Brain". A fellow ABC then chose to reply with, "Yeah,I thought so too. :D" Only one ABC made anything remotely sympathetic, with two comments: "That bad, huh?" and "And I thought I was having a bad week."
All of the above comments hurt, but it was the one girl, who took it a step further. On her own Facebook page, she posted:
Oh god. Bore, don't do this to me. I cannot afford another cycle of depression right now. Stop trying to kill me. :D
I would not have known that she had posted this if another classmate, another I-student commented on her post, linking my name. I received the message in my inbox. She wrote, "You should cite that. Shouldn't she, Harumi?"
At first I was confused. The grammar, pretty basic,was really random. But then I realized that the girl had been mocking me. She probably hadn't done it on purpose.She had probably thought, like the others, that I had been joking, since apparently, depression is something people joke about. She only knows me from school, and she doesn't know my history.
She doesn't know about the the four times I've tried to kill myself. The year I struggled with cutting. The trauma and pain and terror I've had to deal with, to hide depression from family who don't understand and don't care, working three jobs so that I could afford the pills that might, just might, help. She hadn't been there when I'd been crying because I had been terrified and paranoid because I had been sure no one would care or understand, stuck as I was in another country with no idea how to seek help, or even if help was available. The depression that forever tainted my memories of Japan, made the friends I had made there out of reach. I can no longer go back there without remembering my depression and my weakness with complete and utter shame, cannot talk with them without wondering if they are secretly mocking or disgusted with me.
That's the depression I've dealt with, and though it's probably a casual stroll in the park compared to other people's struggles, it doesn't make me enjoy the idea of repeating it again. Because it's coming back. I can feel it, I can sense it, and I am scared shitless.
But that fear was mocked, and made light of. Even with the best intentions I cannot really forgive the person who made that comment. Nor can I really deal with any of the people who had made those other well-meaning, misunderstood comments either. I know that I'll be holding a grudge, even while I continue to associate with them. Because they're my classmates, and at a small school like Penn, I cannot afford the awkwardness that will come of cutting them off. Though I want to.I want to scream and yell at them, to tell them coldly everything I'm bottling up inside, all the mean, nasty things unrelated to this incident, just to make them hurt as much as they have hurt me.
I won't. I can't. Because I can't but think that maybe depression is already warping my mind, that my feelings of resentment are artificial and exaggerated because of my current state. I cannot afford to trust my feelings and reactions right now, and that fucking hurts also.
So what I did was quietly defriend the one girl who posted that separate comment. And on Monday I'll go through class without mentioning a thing. But it will be a while before I can bring myself to forgive them, if I ever do. I can only do the acts of a decent person. I can't actually be one.
I can feel my depression rearing its ugly head again. I can tell, because I've been feeling an unusual amount of lethargy. My sleep schedule is completely off, and even when I sleep, I don't sleep well. And now I can feel the horrid whispers, the sly hints every time I either "fail" or am overwhelmed. It's my brain again, the stupid brain that is trying to kill me.
And I seriously don't need this right now.
Out of frustration I posted it on Facebook, a mistake, because I'm not accustomed to the new format yet. I should have posted it to Close Friends only. Instead, I ended up posting it to everyone.
The people who replied were classmates, and despite being in TESOL, their English was not really good. My exact message was:
Oh god. Brain, don't do this to me. I cannot afford another cycle of depression right now. Stop trying to kill me.
I hadn't been expecting any replies. People don't tend to reply to those kinds of things. But the international (abbreviated henceforth to "I") students had no such compunctions. One girl assumed that it was just the stress of finals week and said, "Everybody's going crazy this week." Another girl commented that she thought I had written "Brian" instead of "Brain". A fellow ABC then chose to reply with, "Yeah,I thought so too. :D" Only one ABC made anything remotely sympathetic, with two comments: "That bad, huh?" and "And I thought I was having a bad week."
All of the above comments hurt, but it was the one girl, who took it a step further. On her own Facebook page, she posted:
Oh god. Bore, don't do this to me. I cannot afford another cycle of depression right now. Stop trying to kill me. :D
I would not have known that she had posted this if another classmate, another I-student commented on her post, linking my name. I received the message in my inbox. She wrote, "You should cite that. Shouldn't she, Harumi?"
At first I was confused. The grammar, pretty basic,was really random. But then I realized that the girl had been mocking me. She probably hadn't done it on purpose.She had probably thought, like the others, that I had been joking, since apparently, depression is something people joke about. She only knows me from school, and she doesn't know my history.
She doesn't know about the the four times I've tried to kill myself. The year I struggled with cutting. The trauma and pain and terror I've had to deal with, to hide depression from family who don't understand and don't care, working three jobs so that I could afford the pills that might, just might, help. She hadn't been there when I'd been crying because I had been terrified and paranoid because I had been sure no one would care or understand, stuck as I was in another country with no idea how to seek help, or even if help was available. The depression that forever tainted my memories of Japan, made the friends I had made there out of reach. I can no longer go back there without remembering my depression and my weakness with complete and utter shame, cannot talk with them without wondering if they are secretly mocking or disgusted with me.
That's the depression I've dealt with, and though it's probably a casual stroll in the park compared to other people's struggles, it doesn't make me enjoy the idea of repeating it again. Because it's coming back. I can feel it, I can sense it, and I am scared shitless.
But that fear was mocked, and made light of. Even with the best intentions I cannot really forgive the person who made that comment. Nor can I really deal with any of the people who had made those other well-meaning, misunderstood comments either. I know that I'll be holding a grudge, even while I continue to associate with them. Because they're my classmates, and at a small school like Penn, I cannot afford the awkwardness that will come of cutting them off. Though I want to.I want to scream and yell at them, to tell them coldly everything I'm bottling up inside, all the mean, nasty things unrelated to this incident, just to make them hurt as much as they have hurt me.
I won't. I can't. Because I can't but think that maybe depression is already warping my mind, that my feelings of resentment are artificial and exaggerated because of my current state. I cannot afford to trust my feelings and reactions right now, and that fucking hurts also.
So what I did was quietly defriend the one girl who posted that separate comment. And on Monday I'll go through class without mentioning a thing. But it will be a while before I can bring myself to forgive them, if I ever do. I can only do the acts of a decent person. I can't actually be one.