Spiraling down

It was always cold despite the actual weather. When I shook hands with someone, they were more likely to comment how cold my hands were. Those who knew me longer would even go ahead and ask whether I was okay. Of course am okay, my hands have always been cold, I answered. It was something I had answered so many times that it was so natural nobody dared pursue the matter farther. It was terrible that coldness. You never felt the sun heat up your body. Even when the sun was high up scorching and I was watching television in the house, I still covered myself with a blanket. Sometimes I wore a tee-shirt inside my blouse to ensure I was warm.

I also experienced fatigue of immeasurable levels. I was always tired. Anytime I sat down and my body relaxed for five minutes, I would automatically start dozing and then wander off to sleep. I spent all my free time sleeping. The fatigue was pushing me over the edge. I could hold up my baby, play with her for 5 minutes then fatigue could set in. The next action would be both of us on the floor with me sound asleep. Mummy, mummy amka, amka mummy she would try to wake me.  I remember once going to Sunday school and sitting in so that my daughter could agree to remain there. I dozed off and slept, in my sub-conscious mind something told me to wake up. I found about 30 pairs of curious eyes piercingly staring at me. The teacher had left to organize for something. The kids were curious to see this grownup that slept (maybe they thought I had died since I had no motion) while seated on those tiny chairs in the morning.

These two emotions almost made me go mad. They made me anti-social. They made me acidic. Since I was always cold-I couldn’t sit out doors for long before I looked for something to cover myself with. Since I was tired, I would sleep immediately after. Hence, every social meeting I went to and especially in the evenings and night I was asleep most of the time. I remember attending Jason my nephew’s birthday, and decided to put my feet on the seat as the children were singing happy birthday to him. Needless to say, I made the cardinal sin of closing my eyes. Sleep took me away. Despite all the noise from a dozen or more kids and the excitement of cake cutting and so on from only about a meter from there I was fast sleep. Dead as a log. The ceremony was done with me completely asleep. The pictures have evidence.

If you ask anybody who met me then, they will tell you out rightly that I am antisocial. That I have no social skills. I greeted someone who I had known for quite a while earlier in the year and this was his reply. You bit**, I have known you for exactly 6 years, met you more than 30 or more times and even in my own home. And believe it or not this is the first time you have looked at me in my eyes, smiled genuinely and said hallo. What has been the matter with you? Short of fainting, I stood there as he continued wondering where I would choose to carry myself in that matter. Am glad that  is now water under the bridge.

On August 11, this year, I woke up to the death of Robin Williams (Mrs. Doubtfire is how I like to remember him) I was devastated. Not because I personally knew him but he was a public representative of those who had struggled/struggling with depression (The coroner in his case said he suffered from Lewy Body Dementia and Parkinson’s disease). When I watched him in Mrs. Doubtfire (she is a he/ he is a she) many years ago, I thought he looked disturbed- but I was too young to decipher such emotion from a seasoned actor. The oxford dictionary defines depression as feelings of severe despondency and dejection (in psychiatry). It occurs in many forms that are easily identifiable or are not easily identifiable. Like most mental illness it is not easy to pinpoint who is suffering from it. Mental illness affects a person’s thinking, feelings, mood and ability to relate to others.

Depression and other mental health related illness can be triggered by anything including trauma, death in the family, stress, birth of a child, loss of a job and even forthcoming exams among other occurrences in life. And hence, unless one knows themselves very well or is known very well by those around them, this illness can go on unnoticed for years.  While in cases where it is mild it is manageable by just talking and sorting out the triggers, but in prolonged periods or where the former is not working it needs treatment-and I mean proper treatment. The stigma around mental illness needs to stop. Having any form of mental illness does not mean that one is necessarily mad, it means your mental health is destabilized just like what would happen in physical health. And if you notice something is wrong, do the right thing and take the person to hospital and don’t ostracize them, they are just exhibiting their humanness.

This article is dedicated to my good friend Naomi who now resides in Langata cemetery on Langata road. I met her while we were both seeking treatment from the same doctor. Unfortunately, her case was too advanced and her family refused to accept it. She kept running from her trigger, the family kept returning her there. They thought she was mad- she wasn’t. At one point I stopped seeing her thinking she changed doctors. I asked the receptionist at the clinic after a while what could have happened to her, she looked at me sadly” You mean you don’t know?” Know what? “She committed suicide and passed on”. All I did was cry.

Sojourner.

Take time to really know yourself and those around you.