“A hug may not seem much to you, but to me, it is everything.”
Humans of Medicine #33
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.
The ever-waging war in my mind compelled me to isolate myself from the world. Toxic and pessimistic thoughts clouded my rational mind and sound judgement. I was well acquainted with the feeling of loneliness and hopelessness but when they became too overbearing, I succumbed to the temptation of self-harming.
After a traumatising experience at the age of seventeen, I started to distance myself from my friends. Casual conversations no longer piqued my interest and the thought of having people that I was not close to following my every move on social media platforms made my skin crawl. My condition deteriorated with the surge in suicidal thoughts that plagued my mind. Yet, I was not able to pinpoint the reasoning behind my motives and feelings. I had a hunch that I was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) but I never really took the initiative to seek help. ‘I can survive on my own’, was what I told myself on the good days. Pursuing my medical education in a foreign land exacerbated my condition as the inability to adapt became a factor in the equation. Under the constant encouragement and reassurance from my seniors, I decided to reclaim control over my life – I needed professional help.
Gruelling hours of aimless staring into blank space whilst patiently waiting and silently praying that my name will be called next, was the scene that I had expected. On the contrary, I was astonished by how accessible it was to obtain a psychiatry appointment in India and how fast the process was as I was immediately directed to a psychiatrist on my first appointment. I was then diagnosed with Major Depression Disorder (MDD). To alleviate my symptoms, I was given a prescription of antidepressants which I had to diligently take every day. Coping with my diagnosis was an uphill battle. In the beginning, I heavily depended on medication to control my depressive episodes. It helped immensely in soothing my emotions and it granted me a window of time where I could formulate rational thoughts. Fortunately, the side effects that I experienced, namely insomnia and hypersomnia, were manageable as they did not have a drastic effect on my daily life apart from when I was still adjusting to the medication.
Life went on as usual even after receiving the diagnosis. However, there were days where I just needed some time to myself and those were the days where I would take a leave from school. Facing the outside world on those days was a daunting task and it was detrimental to my condition as socialising with others would leave me mentally drained.
I was required to meet with my psychiatrist once a fortnight. Admittedly, there were occasions where I was reluctant to attend the appointments but my seniors acted as my driving force and ensured that I did not miss any of them. One of them even accompanied me to every single one of my appointments and helped me to convey my thoughts and feelings when I did not have the strength to do so myself. Being in a judgement-free environment where I was given the liberty to share my thoughts and having them reciprocated with empathy put me at ease. During my appointments, I would share everything that had happened in the span of the two weeks, from my sleep quality to my relationships with friends. My psychiatrist would then evaluate my condition and adjusted the dosage of my medication accordingly. Her presence emanated warmth and security which was much needed to get me through the day and push forward.
The importance of a psychiatrist in the maintenance of my mental health only became apparent to me after I returned to Malaysia due to the COVID-19 outbreak. Overcoming flare-ups was an arduous task as I had no one to rely on. I had to stop my treatments, coupled with the absence of my seniors – I was all alone. Due to the limited knowledge on mental health, my parents were clueless and uncertain on the appropriate ways to approach and handle my condition, even when I had the propensity to lock myself in my bedroom. I needed the guidance and support that only a psychiatrist could provide. The inherent difficulty of trusting others translated into the tendency of bottling up my thoughts and I yearned to meet with a psychiatrist.
I do not know if I would still be here today if it were not for the support of the people who cared for me. When I was abroad, my family and close friends from home would constantly check up on me. Worried for my well being, my parents even proposed that I returned home but I refused to. As I was in a fairly new environment, I did not trust any of my batchmates enough to confide in them. I presume that my symptoms were evident and coupled with the fact that most of us lived in the same house, they found out eventually. There were times where I would lock myself in my room and they would knock on the door till I opened up. Back in Malaysia, being close to my friends was certainly a plus point as these were the people that I have known for a long time. Therefore, opening up to them came naturally as they understood that I needed time to process my thoughts and I was never forced to share if I was not comfortable. Sensing an impending flare-up of my symptoms, I would sleepover at my friend’s house as their mere presence averted my mind from suicidal tendencies.
A hug may not seem much to you, but to me, it is everything. I have never been one to be moved by words and I would much prefer it if someone was there to hold me, even if it was holding my hand. It was the simplest gestures that mattered the most to me and knowing that someone was there for me would temporarily subdue the urges to harm myself.
Suppressing the tendency to self-harm when I was feeling stressed out was the hardest part in the recovery process as it was second nature to me. However, I have been surprising myself in the past three months as suicidal thoughts have not recurred. My parents have also been much more understanding of my condition. As there has been improvement in my symptoms, I have stopped taking the medication. I have a long way to go in winning this battle but I am willing to travel on this road of recovery.
About the author
Interviewed and written by Chloe Goh. Chloe is a first-year medical student from University College Dublin (RUMC). A night owl by nature, she enjoys indulging in a good book or show amidst the tranquillity of the night.
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.
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