Menjadi Waras.
I initially had a hard time coming up with the English equivalence for this word. Waras. Being... 'normal'? 'regular'? 'mentally healthy'? A quick google translate consultation from the Bahasa word then found me in awe as to how obvious it should have been.
Sane.
Being sane.
I'm writing this after years of years being a- um... insane person? But not really. I have written many times about how I wish I actually have a mental problem so that I can blame all my mistakes on it. But not really. Do I really have that problem? Yes, but not really. To put it shortly, I have the symptoms, but not the actual disease.
I once had my doubts of 'getting better', not because I felt like I couldn't, but I just would not. I felt like it would make me... normal. And I associated 'normal' with being boring.
I told myself that if I were 'normal', then I would lose all my uniqueness. My quirks. I would be losing the depth of my emotional writing. I would not be 'the melancholy' of my peers. I would not be able to see things with the same emotional lens I used to see the world in; losing my foggy perspective. In short, I treat the emotional state of the 'mental illness' notion as part of my personality.
But it's not right. I'm relatively normal, compared to many others. I just had some problems. Frustration. Anger. Mood swings. And what are problems if they were not to be solved?
So how was the experience of going to a psychiatrist?
I went because of the strong recommendation of a friend, since I've been having constant demotivation, tendency to detach myself from friends and colleagues and the works I'm supposed to be doing, frustration due to being not able to concentrate, extreme spikes of emotions that make hurting others and myself almost feel good. Of course I did not tell her all of this, only that I've been demotivated and detached.
So to a psychiatrist I went. It was almost impulsive. I decided to go right then Monday first thing in the morning because I was on the verge of madness and was too frustrated for my brain to receive any cognitive stimulation; and I wanted to cry so bad even though what I had to do was (luckily) just an online class (so none of them see me tearing up). If only the doctor was available right then in the morning, I would gladly skip class just to get a prognosis on what the fuck is wrong with me. But she didn't. I had to consult online via video call and the soonest available time is at night.
As per usual, you cannot expect doctors to read your mind of scan your brain immediately to know what disease you might be having. They are going to ask you 'what's wrong?' or 'how can I help you today?' and you will have to explain. So that's what I did. I explained what I was feeling, what I've been feeling and all the frustration. She would ask some questions that I answered honestly, and surprisingly, I found myself okay with all that. I thought I would be dumbfounded or feeling traumatized by the qiestions, but perhaps to some extent I have made peace with some part that I would once deemed unacceptable.
I know some people don't have the privilege to even be able to tap into their own emotion, to recognize what they are feeling, to communicate that they might be having problem. I'm lucky enough to own it and being able to speak of what I feel about (even though my problem also has something to do with detachment issue).
She said that she understood what it is. She encountered many cases like this, especially among college students.
I was relieved, and although at first I felt like it would be offensive that all these subjective emotional frustration and personal things that affected me and being affected by me, which were my own, which I thought were unique and personal, was just a number in the statistics among her list of patients over twenty years of practice. But that does mean I am normal, I just had some issues to solve. So to some medications and 'adjustment' of lifestyle I was prescribed.
So how does it feel being 'sane'?
First up we have to define how it is to be 'sane'. Quick google search will take you to the term 'of sound mind', 'rational', 'not mad or mentally ill'. So am I already sane, in a sense? Am I already released from my demon, which might be there or not there at all? Everyone is entitled to their subjective feeling about how sane they are, how 'normal' they could be, but personally I feel like not being 'sane' means that your mental state is bothered so much that you can barely function. In my case, it was the ups and downs of emotion, difficulty of concentration, and tendency to self harm. Speaking of being sane, I feel like there has been improvement from my original state of affairs.
Feeling sane is.... let's just say, it's amazing. All the initial worries I had about me losing my depth, my quirkiness, my uniqueness, they're just untrue. I can still write, make twisted jokes, discuss philosophical matters, all without the constant inscurities of my abilities, worries of looking stupid, and large inertia that usually inhibited me to do so. It's like I have more mental energy to actually do the things that I wanna do without all the anxiety, without the negative 'what-if's, without the tendency to give up before even trying. The things that I only used to wish to be able to do, now are real things within my grasp of initiatives. I feel more hopeful, more in control of my self, and more at ease with my emotional spikes.
I could finally concentrate on reading, doing my homeworks instead of dwelling on emotional frustration that wasted so many of the times and energy I could be doing work or having fun.
My friend once said "in a short time you will be introduced to the original you who never appear often, which is your sanest and truest self", and she may be correct.
It is too soon to tell that where this state would continue from here, since it still has been only two weeks since my first consultation, but given my objective assessment, the medication helped much and I am significantly turning on the right track.
What I regretted the most is how I wish I have had gone sooner. All those gap years that I spent wallowing and feeling sorry for myself, it could be years of me actually doing what I had always have in the bucket list of my mind.
