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208 pages, Hardcover
First published June 20, 2018
“I wonder about others like me, who seem totally fine on the outside but are rotting on the inside, where the rot is this vague state of being not-fine and not-devastated at the same time.”
‘You are fine now, just the way you are. You might say silly things when drunk, there may be side effects from the pills, but you’re fine. If the latter happens, all you have to do is call me up and swear at me.’
‘I wonder about others like me, who seem totally fine on the outside but are rotting on the inside, where the rot is this vague state of being not-fine and not-devastated at the same time. The world tends to focus too much on the very bright or the very dark; many of my own friends find my type of depression baffling. But what’s an ‘acceptable’ form of depression? Is depression itself something that can ever be fully understood? In the end, my hope is for people to read this book and think, I wasn’t the only person who felt like this; or, I see now that people live with this.’
‘…empathy is an act of imagination. If I don’t plant the seed in myself, it will never grow. Which is why some people never seem to understand the lives of others. But the only way to create something inside me that is not there to begin with is through imagination. You’ve got to learn how to empathise, to imagine.
I used to treat empathy as something very difficult, and shut myself off from the things that didn’t affect me emotionally. But surely to create something in me that didn’t exist before and to extend emotional solidarity to another person is one of the rites of adulthood. We are so far, and yet so near to so many people.
To learn about and imagine the emotions that I don’t understand or immediately empathise with: that is the affection I extend to others, and the only way to ensure that what’s inside of us doesn’t dry up or rot…’
‘There’s a desire to punish yourself, shall we say. You have this superego that exerts control over you, a superego built not only from your own experiences but cobbled together from all sorts of things that you admire, creating an idealised version of yourself. But that idealised version of yourself is, in the end, only an ideal. It’s not who you actually are. You keep failing to meet that ideal in the real world, and then you punish yourself. If you have a strict superego, the act of being punished eventually becomes gratifying. For example, if you’re suspicious of the love you’re receiving, and so act out until your partner lashes out and leaves you, you feel relief. You eventually become controlled more by imaginary outside forces than anything that is actually you.’
You're not hitting rock bottom right now. When we're sinking in water, it can be a relief to feel the ground beneath our feet, the rock bottom, because we know we can kick against it to rise again. But if you can't feel the ground in life, the fear can be overwhelming. So maybe it's good to find your rock bottom.
I am someone who is completely unique in this world, someone I need to take care of for the rest of my life, and therefore someone I need to help take each step forward,
warmly and patiently,
to allow to rest on some days and encourage on others.
You keep obsessively holding yourself to these idealised standards, forcing yourself to fit them. It’s another way, among many, for you to keep punishing yourself.
The real problem was how this principle began to apply to people as well. The more someone loved me, the more I got bored of them. Perhaps not bored – they ceased to sparkle in my eyes. The problem is, of course, my self-esteem. I look down on myself so much that I try to gain self-validation through the eyes of others. But because that’s not a validation that I am able to accept, there’s a limit to how satisfying it can be, and I become bored of it. Which is why I go looking for someone else, and ultimately why I think someone liking me cannot in itself satisfy me. I’m devastated if someone I like doesn’t like me, and devastated when someone does end up loving me; either way, I am looking at myself through the eyes of another. In the end, I’m torturing myself... I’ve got to accept that everyone has a flaw or two, and first and foremost, see myself as I am first. I must stop expecting myself to be perfect. The best I can do is to learn or realise something new every day.
What do I wish for? I want to love and be loved. Without suspicion, and with ease. That’s it. I don’t know how to love or be loved properly, and that’s what pains me.
Crossing those barriers between hot and cold, I forget the lukewarm boredom of life; that lukewarm state is what I fear the most. Unable to return to feeling hot or cold, to be numb within a state of room temperature. In that state, we’re nothing better than dead.
“Hanya ada satu 'aku' di dunia. Dengan begitu aku adalah sesuatu yang amat spesial. Diriku adalah sesuatu yang harus kujaga selamanya. Diriku adalah sesuatu yang harus kubantu secara perlahan, kutuntun selangkah demi selangkah dengan penuh kasih sayang dan kehangatan. Diriku adalah sesuatu yang butuh istirahat sesaat sambil menarik napas panjang atau terkadang butuh cambukan agar bisa bergerak ke depan. Aku percaya aku akan menjadi semakin bahagia jika aku semakin sering melihat ke dalam diriku sendiri.” (h. 111)
“Pada akhirnya, buku ini berakhir bukan sebagai pertanyaan maupun jawaban, melainkan sebagai sebuah harapan.” (h. 190)