Time heals.

I’ve exited from the more severe stages of depression with surprising expediency. I’m ready to speak. And it’s queer how the daily hits skyrocketed on the day that post was published. I still mean every word there: my mind hasn’t changed, it’s just that my emotional state has improved. I’m ready to speak, instead of leaving a queer, if not shocked, cliffhanger dangling in the minds of those even remotely concerned.

This crisis was unique in a few ways: firstly, the unprecedented plunge in my results. I don’t mean to be a snob armed with a loud-hailer, but my grades for anything have never fallen bellow 70 (i.e. the GPA 3.6), in close to 2 decades of existence. Naturally this applies to quite a number of people in RJC, but I can safely say I belong to a minority. It is cowardly to excuse myself for taking two entirely new subjects, Lit and Econs. In fact I was doing surprisingly well for both, until the Promos, which turned the tables. Imagine topping the level for Lit in one semester, then not hitting even an A all of a sudden. It’s not being a snob: on the contrary, it’s applying realistic standards. It was a freak result.

Many puzzled with the duration of this depression phase must understand that I had great expectations vested on me. Real failure is not 45 or 50, it’s the defeat of expectation. In my case it was catastrophic defeat – a field day for the mother of success, for all of my subjects. It wasn’t just a battle won, but a war which seemed over in the hour the results were released, and for a day I was unable to express any emotion. In fact throughout the post-results period, I didn’t even shed a tear. Not because it was “un-macho” to do so (frankly those who try to be macho turn out to be quite the opposite), but that I just didn’t feel any sadness for the first day. The first two days were characterised by numbness to the surroundings: people, family, anyone.

And the people who stood by helped me cope with the trauma. So it befits this post to publicly thank a few people who have made some critical difference to my state of mind. In particular, Ren Yan and Nicchee, who would suddenly grow quiet in front of me, avoiding topics, keeping quiet, cocooned within a mutual, but silent, understanding. Nigel, whose timely advice on drawing closer to God initially irritated me, but made sense soon after. Chele, whose conversation makes me know I’m not alone in this; Annie, whose extent of concern took me by gentle surprise. And my class, who forbore my silence. (and Jo and Robyn, who cutely tried to make conversation more than a couple of times.)

Quite a number asked how I was. The extent of this crisis could have struck some deeper chords of experiences people usually hide somewhere in their mind. I thank these people, and I might not have been very responsive, but I’ll try to respond in a more coherent manner in the near future. As mentioned in the previous post, my default answer is always “okay” to these things, without any tearful elaboration.

I should heal soon. Things will return back to normal. My confidence has been shattered badly for some subjects and almost entirely for others. It will take time to piece everything back together. I’m living within a dreamy continuum now. What went wrong? While this question remains I still am reluctant to consult any teachers at this point of time. The trauma is still unfolding.

I’m back, for good. I ran 15 km today, retracing the usual way to school, and it was a thoroughly enjoyable experience. My appetite for good music from the Females Who Can Sing has returned. As Judith Guest would put it, depression is not sobbing and crying and giving vent, it is plain and simple reduction of feeling. I am not okay, but I’ll get there, with some help from God if He has some time to spare and doesn’t mind helping. It’d be nice to have some wisdom and favour in dealing with examinations. And failure.

I’m ready to take on more challenges. For now, I don’t need any more failures.