Rawen's Musings

This one’s going to be a bit more personal, hence the title. “Behind the closed doors” will usually feature a small peek into the more private moments that I find worth sharing since they may provide some valuable insight. This one in particular will shed a bit of a light at how I had to handle one massive (at least by my own measure) mental downfall and how it made the bond with one of my best friends even stronger than it already is.

End of June, the fall

It all happened at the start of the usual holiday time here. For someone like me, a “lone wolf”, holidays are merely “checkpoints” during the year since nothing really changes in my day to day life. I still go to work, I still come home, do my exercises on some days, play, draw or watch something, flop to bed. Rinse and repeat ad nauseam. Not much of a social life as you can see, since I’m a rather introverted person and past few years didn’t really help. Like, I even detached from the previous group of folks I was hanging out during my uni years. The only social connections I have now are pretty much my dear SO (who’s a little bit far away) and few friends of mine who are only reachable online. Real world? Hard to be with someone when you have massive trust issues. But that’s a story for some other time.

And in this state, towards the end of June, my brain just eventually shut down. Everything suddenly felt like it’s falling apart. As if with a snap of a finger, everything I have now will just disappear and I’ll be there, isolated, fragile, prime target for a “kill”. Everything just completely lost any purpose in my life in that moment. Doing work felt like a chore, playing/arting felt like a distraction from the inevitable, getting up was the worst step of the day because it was a reminder that I’m still alive, that the torment hasn’t ended yet.

Start of July, the slow steps towards recovery

The slow descent continued to a point where I couldn’t keep my composure anymore even in front of my family (well, what’s left of it anyway). On the worst days I could barely last at my desk, often staring blankly into the screen. In moments of respite, usually during downtime until some tasks finished, I flopped on my bed, staring into the ceiling. And each time I felt my eyes getting watery. All I wanted to was to completely break down. But I couldn’t because work. And because, well, you know, “men don’t cry” and all that wannabe macho horseshit. Seriously, fuck these “people”. I’m a human not an ape.

At that point it was my SO who came in to the rescue. They managed to at least try and get me up, making sure that even if we’re far away from each other, they can create a safe and cosy space for me. All that helped a little. Later I tried at least slightly changing my routine and indeed came clear in front of my mum that no, I’m really not ok (she already had a hunch because a) she’s my mum and b) I couldn’t really hide it anymore). Furthermore, I massively lowered my exposure to mentally harmful media, just so I can rebuild something resembling home in my place. Slowly but surely I started to recover, got back to drawing from time to time, even started a project I’ve been putting away for years (I blame my friend for giving me motivation :p and I’m super grateful for that boost because it’s coming together amazingly).

How did all this help understanding my friend?

All that I described in short is pretty much an experience that I believe everyone who had such an episode has. You don’t even really need to be diagnosed with a disorder that would make these events harder to deal with to experince this flat fall on the ground and not being able to get up. You can read here how it feels. It’s utterly terrifying. The idea that you should do something but jusg can’t because your entire body is telling you “no”. That your own mind is rebelling against you. The utter hopelessness and complete surrender of everything you are. Damn, just writing this sends shivers down my spine.

Now imagine that you’re in this state every single day … for months. That the best moment of your life in this that you actually manage to get up and maybe grab a bite to eat. Anything more and your brain just goes “Why bother?”

And yet they were the person I called for help during my major bad time. Because of their experience, looking for their help felt like the best. If nothing else, at least we can “share the load” so we don’t feel weighed down individually. They responded a bit later when I was already in the recovery phase and we talked about my experience. They told me about their struggles as well and at one point I responded with, “I know how this feels. I just got out of this.” Their response felt like a bright flash of light, “OMG, you understand me!!!” Yes, my dear, yes I do. Far more than I would’ve ever expected. In that response I could sense that spark of joy and relief that they were heard. That we both were heard. Even we both weren’t in our best shape, just this simple moment of attunement was a massive help. Later they went more quiet as usual since for them being in a social setting, even if it’s just a dialogue, is incredibly draining. Believe me, I wouldn’t wish the struggle they’re going through on anyone. And yet they’re still around and so am I, richer in the experience and understand. The kind of rich that can’t be stolen, that can’t be erased.

So, my dear reader, if you got here, I hope I left some lasting impression. Maybe the story moved you and changed your view. Maybe it resonated with you and you can relate to it. Or maybe you see me as a weakling in which case, your time will come. You too will be left in the dark one day, looking for a kindred soul. And if you don’t let these stories in your mind, you’ll be lost. So, what’s the moral of this story? Listen, my dear reader. Listen to the people that are willing to share their struggles. Because if they’re willing to be this open, they’re giving you their trust. And if you decide to betray them, the person who gets hurt the most, is yourself.

R.R.A.