“It felt as if I was living life from a third person’s point of view.”
Humans of Medicine #32
Trigger warning: The following article contains elements of depression and suicidal thoughts which some may find disturbing.
This publication is in conjunction with MMI’s Healing the Healer Campaign. Information regarding the project can be found at @mmi_social on Instagram and on our website.
It was my second year in medical school- the first time I experienced an overbearing wave of sadness. I knew something was off, it was way too soon for me to be graduating from a bright-eyed freshie to a beaten-up medical student. The dread loomed for weeks before I decided to see a GP, who slotted me in a two-month long waiting list. I was lost, depressed and desperate; my condition was spiralling downwards every single day.
Yet, all I could do was wait.
It got to the point where I started skipping classes and missing deadlines. My mind, despite having kept me alive for the past two decades, quickly turned on me, churning out intrusive thoughts which all morphed into a phone call to the mental helpline that landed me an emergency assessment with the psychiatrist. I was told that my condition was “not that severe”, and only referred to the ED department for my preexisting eating disorder.
A proper diagnosis was made only when I was back in Malaysia, which commenced my battle against anxiety, depression and an eating disorder. In spite of that, I was not cooperative during the initial stages of treatment. My mother was against the idea of me starting medications as she read somewhere online that it would “increase the chances of me killing myself”, indirectly affecting my medication compliance. For a period of time, I was riddled with questions like “will my diagnosis affect my career?”, “am I going to be a good doctor when I’m on all these medications?”. I realized then, that battling mental health issues was about fending off the inner voices. I had to look inwards to uproot the internalized stigma surrounding my mental condition in order to gain the best out of my treatments.
I knew to not expect to heal miraculously overnight, so I learned to accept and treat myself kinder. I tried intuitive eating, which taught me to listen to my body and helped me overcome my eating disorder bit by bit. I also found refuge in Buddhism, which guided me to mindfulness and being in the moment. I then went back to the UK, took a nosedive into the swirl of uncertainty caused by COVID-19, third year of medical school and a relocation to a place three hours away from my previous accommodation.
I still had tele-therapy sessions with my Malaysian psychiatrist, which offered a lot of support and pulled me through tough times, but being referred to a community mental health team was when I felt that I got the exact help I sought for. The team was patient and relentless when it came to listening and offering help. For once, I felt hopeful as they were genuinely empathetic and didn’t seem like they were only trying to tick boxes and finish their job.
I may have found peace, but my condition was erratic, my moods ricocheted between highs and lows. Having to wait for the dosage adjustment to my medications was the final breaking point. I slipped in and out of my dissociative states, often finding myself confused and troubled with questions of “where am I?”, “who am I” and “what am I doing?”. It felt as if I was living life from a third person’s point of view. I was spectating my life instead of living and feeling. It was suffocating. Intrusive voices echoed in my mind, and this time, they were louder. I knew if it went on like this any longer, I would do no good to myself. I approached the community mental health team, agitated and losing control of my speech and movements. I was identified with a high suicidal tendency and admitted into the hospital.
“Am I normal?” The stigmas I thought I had resolved came crashing back in waves. I thought I had accepted myself for all that I was but it didn’t seem to be the case anymore. I thought I convinced myself that mental health issues were common but now that I was in the mental health intensive care unit, it didn’t seem normal anymore. I was afraid. I underwent five days of psychiatric treatment and was discharged with an adjusted dose of medication. A home treatment team was assigned to visit me every day, which role was later taken over by the community mental health team after my condition stabilized.
Dealing with mental health issues can be a continuous and lonely journey, especially in a profession so glorified healthcare professionals are seen as immortals. I decided to be part of “Healing the Healer” in hopes to create more awareness in the medical fraternity. Inspired by the quote of “charity starts from home”, I believe that it is high time we look inside and do the work to eradicate the stigmas in our healthcare field before we can properly educate the public. I do not expect to establish a support system from a single movement, but I hope that this initiative does call for an inward reflection to make us kinder, more accepting individuals. For now, mental health awareness movements are gaining momentum, but we are still far from where we want to be.
About the author
Interviewed and written by Zhan Wei. Zhanwei is a first year medical student at SEGi University with a crippling addiction to tetris. If not seen matching up blocks to make them disappear, she can be found cracking dad jokes in an attempt to impress (miserably).
Consent has been obtained from the interviewee for the purpose of this publication. The author has rewritten the article with permission from the interviewee.
Humans of Medicine is a new initiative under MMI. We tell inspiring stories behind portrait shots of our everyday unsung heroes. Curated by Malaysian medical students from home and abroad.
If you have a story you would like to share, please reach out to us at admin@malaysianmedics.org.
