Quick Fix
After returning from Jogja back to my place in Depok a month ago, I spent most of my times in front of my phone screen. I was talking to strangers. A lot of them.
At first, I just installed Telegram because of trivial matters. I was just looking for a specific news that was being spread in Tele. I would uninstall the app after I’m done looking for the news. But when I was about to uninstall the app, I thought to myself why don’t I try to use the popular anonymous chat bot. So I tried the feature. And you already know what happened next: I got hooked.
I meet — virtually, of course — various people from different regions and different countries. Aside from the perverted ones, there are some nice and decent people. Every time I found someone’s nice, we would exchange our username and continue our conversation in private chat, end the conversation in the bot, and search for new people. It’s a nice way to kill times.
And that’s it.
It’s a convenient way to escape from boredom; to fill the emptiness.
The Void
It’s been half a year since the first time I went to psychiatrist. During this period, I frequently experience cognitive distortions. Hence, beside antidepressant, my psychiatrist also prescribed me with antipsychotic to help me cope with the troublesome thoughts.
After going through a trial period, both me and my psychiatrist agreed I should keep taking the antipsychotic since it appears that I’m not ready to endure everything on my own yet. At first I feel bad about this, but my psychiatrist told me this is very normal and I shouldn’t blame myself or think of this as a failure. This just means that I need more time to prepare myself. I immediately I feel better after changing my mindset.
But now, I’m experiencing a new phase. A different one.
It’s kind of hard to explain, so I’ll use metaphor instead.
Imagine a factory. The factory was packed with people, machine, and the products they made. Often, the factory went through a hectic week in order to meet market’s demand. During that time, the factory could get really messy and chaotic. It happened quite often it almost feel normal.
Then, one day, the factory shut down. There were no more market’s demand, nothing to produce, and nobody needed to get anything done. Nothing. Everything went quite. No more busy week, no anything. It was just… empty.
And that factory is me.
Numb, emotionally unavailable, lack of interest and motivation; the void manifests in various forms. I don’t know how other people perceive me, the current me — I don’t know whether this emptiness is visible. Sometimes I don’t even realize I have this void within me since I often distract myself by socializing and doing things I used to like. It usually occurs to me whenever I’m alone.
I would be chatting with my friends, laughing like I have nothing to worry and feeling genuinely happy, enjoying the moments, until I got to be alone and the silence pierces my mind.
Ah, what I was laughing about just now?
I feel alright a moment before.
What now?
What next?
To Be Understood
Sometimes, more often than not, when we share our story to other people, one of the first questions they ask us is
“Do you have someone to talk to?”
Though, I rarely got this question since I rarely share my story with other people.
I know whom I can talk to. It’s just I do not know who do I want to talk to.
You see, I’m someone who likes to make a difficult situation get even more difficult by indulging myself with a thread of ridiculous thoughts.
I acknowledge the desire I have within me to share my joy, my pain, and anything in between with someone else. I also acknowledge the fact that there’s a lot of people who are willing to listen to me. Yet I don’t talk with just anyone because I do not know whether they will really understand me.
You may wonder, how on earth do I define the word ‘understand’? Why does it seem like it’s hard to understand me?
Usually, I would deny the last question by saying I don’t have certain expectation to people who listen to me. But if that statement is true, I wouldn’t be here writing about all of this shit. So, I promise I will try to be as honest as I can in this writing.
First thing first, I will admit that I do have some expectations to the people who listen to me. These expectations are no doubt the reason why I treat the word ‘understand’ with deep and probably ridiculous care. Nevertheless, I will help you to see this specific word in the same light as I do.
Instead of asking what is it to understand someone, it would probably best if we start with how does it feel to be understood?
From my point of view, to be understood is to feel safe. This sense of security comes from being accepted, cared, and protected.
We’re seen. Not as a part of things, but as a whole being. Despite how ghastly we are, they want to look us in our eyes. They don’t hesitate to hold our hand and tell us that we’re okay. They assure us that we deserve compassion and mercy, and they’re willing to let us experience it by offering a hug. They want to be present, to accompany us along in our journey but they also set us free at the same time. It’s the feeling of solidarity that enable us to relate with other human being without reducing each other’s freedom. It’s like walking together without restricting each other’s pace or way of walk. Just together, enjoying each other’s presence.
It requires effort to achieve my ideal, but it’s not impossible either. Yet somehow I always make it sounds really hard.
You already got the clue. My red flag is I like to make things hard without purpose.
It’s hard because long before we can stand in the same ground and relate to each other, the first step is to have the courage to do so.
And I don’t think I have that in me.
To Be Vulnerable
How do I start? Where do I begin? How to explain this in a way people can easily understand? Will they understand? Can they?
One thing The 1975 was right about is the fact that being sincere is scary. We try to mask and paint our pain in the most postmodern way, they said. I have no objection, it’s true.
I once saw something in Twitter, Google, or somewhere. I forgot the exact wordings, but I remember the concept after reading this article.
“Openness is the willingness to tell people your story. Vulnerability is your willingness to let others be part of it.”
This concept about being open and being vulnerable are two different things hits me hard. I’m good at being open while sucks at being vulnerable. I can talk about my life journey from childhood up until now to anyone without any issue. It’s because I’m exceptionally well at separating my mind and my heart. I may be communicating my thoughts, but I left out my feelings just for me.
It’s not that other people can’t understand me. It’s me who’s keeping them from understanding me.
It’s much more easier to say “I’m free, let’s hang out” rather than admitting I feel depressed and want someone to accompany me. I could be talking for hours and hours about how suck my day was instead of being honest and confessing I was really upset I feel like crying.
I’m afraid if I express whatever I truly feel inside, people wouldn’t know how to react or even reject me. I feel like the silence when people contemplate on what to do after listening to my story is killing me. I know not many people can understand or even relate to me, but that moment of silence always reminds me of how lonely I really feel inside.
I don’t want to isolate myself, I desperately seek for a deeper and meaningful connection with other people, yet I just can’t bring myself to be honest about it.
Sometimes I wonder whether empaths really exist. I wonder whether there’s a person who can understand all of my entangled emotions and thoughts just by seeing me in the eyes, so that I don’t have to talk about it myself — so that I don’t have to struggle this hard just to speak.
Though I know, it’s just a wishful thinking of mine.
I’m sorry.
Afterall, it seems like I don’t have the courage to be vulnerable.
