It weights heavily on me

Well, today I’m hating the world more than usual. I’m thoroughly discouraged by the apathy, insensitivity, lack of care and selfishness of human beings. 

Not to mention the maliciousness of the human mind. The ease with which it devises more and more efficient ways of killing. Of torturing. Of breaking someone’s spirit.

What kind of monster comes up with the idea of gas bombs?

That they exist is horrible and unthinkable enough.

That someone thought to throw them in at a place and a time when so many children are gathered is the stuff from nightmares.

That the rest of the world goes on without giving a fuck is a weight I am not strong enough to bear.

But to add insult to injury, then there’s this: 

Had to take this screenshot. It is from the comments on a series of pictures and videos of the horrifying gas attack in Syria from the Syrian American Medical Society- SAMS. There were many comments, as one can imagine. All expressing the expected emotions, shock, sadness, disgust. But above all, concern for the victims and their families, for all affected.

Except for this “person” who demands the post be taken down because omg how dare they ruin her day by showing such upsetting images.

As someone commented, “Wow. Yes, Heaven forbid HER day be ruined by the deaths of innocent children!”

I’ve had several people I considered friends tell me a variation on that. That they just want to see happy things. Pictures of cats, or puppies. That they are too sensitive and therefore cannot watch the news. 

That kind of coldness of the heart, of disconnect, of self-centeredness is incompatible with my software. It causes my hardware to overload and short circuit. 

I understand there is only so much a human brain can deal with. I understand we all need to take breaks now and then from awful news for our own mental health. This is not what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about purposely placing yourself inside a bubble that keeps the suffering of the world away as if it didn’t exist. Doing this is to disconnect yourself from that which makes you human.

That’s where you start to see others as dummies. Non-human entities. As things without feelings. 

That’s when you have no moral conflict when your government orders a soldier in an isolated bunker to push that button. While he who gives the order proceeds to join the family to celebrate a grandchild’s birthday. Or something.

That cognitive dissonance.

That’s when you turn into that person who takes to social media to inform all your friends how much your life sucks because you were stuck in traffic for half an hour. And can you believe the “bitch” on the outside lane had the nerve to get in front of me when cars finally started moving? And now you dare posting upsetting stuff that will appear on my feed when I’m already having such a bad day??? FML.

It weights heavily on me.

Honouring the children of Peshawar

Another day, another tragedy.

Some men walked into a school in Pakistan and massacred over 100 kids and their teachers.

I just can’t go about my day knowing that so many mothers and fathers are mourning their children right now. I just can’t. And the fact that it is getting so little media coverage compared to other news just adds to my pain.

I often ask people why is it that they don’t say much or anything at all about this kind of despicable acts.

I am often told something like this:

I can’t watch the news. I’ve been told I don’t care about important issues, but it just hurts too much. I can’t process such cruelty.

or this:

It is not that I don’t care. It’s that I care too much. I avoid watching things I can do nothing about.

And then there is the nagging feeling that some things are not talked about as much because they happen in parts of the world that matter less.  Very disturbing. Continue reading

I wish I had cancer

Yeah, you heard it right.

I know that I’m gonna get a lot of angry cancer patients on my case, thinking I’m mocking them.  However, I am not.

While I’ve had been thinking of it it for quite a while, only until very recently I finally said it to someone other than myself, on a DM.

And I stand by it.

You see, I have an illness.  But it’s a mental one.  I look good on the outside.  I haven’t lost ridiculous amounts of weight.  I still have all my hair. I have a good colour.  I don’t look like I’m ready to take my boat ride across the River Styx. Only that I am.  And I’ve been there several times.

But Mental illnesses don’t get the sympathy or empathy from society that cancer does.  Or Cystic Fibrosis.  Or Muscular Dystrophy.  Or any other of those “legitimate” illnesses.

People like me are mostly regarded as moody individuals.  An annoyance, most of the time.  Someone normal people need to stay away from because we are Debby Downers.  Oh, it’s all in your head, I’ve been told many times.  Or, you just have to count your blessings instead of focusing on your limitations.  And sure, I’m all for counting my blessings.  I’m very grateful that I don’t have to sleep on the street, that I’m not starving.  That I am not being gang-raped, or tortured or enslaved.  I’m also grateful for friends and the love they give me.

But the truth is that even if I we do the right thing and reach out when we have our lows, it becomes harder and harder to do as time goes by. Sure, friends and loved ones (spouses, children, etc) will try and help the first time they hear about it.  And the second time. And the third time.  And maybe even the fourth and fifth.  But after a while, they do get tired.  And that’s normal.  They are only human too.  And so, we become a burden.  Because Mental Illnesses are hard to treat.  The prognosis is gloomy for the most part.  According to the Royal Mental Hospital Depression Research Centre (depression is what I have but it might as well be schizophrenia or any other mental illness),“Many people diagnosed with a major depression will fail to respond adequately to two medications of different classes and about 60 per cent will have a treatment resistant depression.”  60 PERCENT! And unless we commit suicide (gasp! yeah, I said. Because a lot of us actually do) we live a normally long life just like any other person free of any lethal disease.  So we become this pain in the ass, gloomy, cranky, grumpy, sad people that no one likes to be around.  Even those who love us, have a hard time 1. dealing with us at a personal level, and 2. dealing with their own coping problems associated with loving a person with a mental illness.

And those are the lucky ones who’s friends and family care enough to help them.  But there’s still a lot of stigma associated with mental illnesses.  Even as I write this blog post, I can hear a very scared little voice at the back of my mind telling that I’m insane for talking in public about it.  What are they gonna thing about you? it says.  People don’t like to be friends with crazy people.  Also, people DON’T HIRE crazy people.  So won’t you keep it quiet? it’s for your own good, you know.

So, I wish I had cancer.  At least there wouldn’t any kind of stigma associated with it.  And – like I said to my friend, if I’m lucky enough, cancer would kill me really fast so I wouldn’t have to go on living in so much pain.