To all the people who asked if I was okay, I’m sorry I lied.
I was not okay.
Because behind that smile and the almost perfect Math scores, were countless nights crying in bed, waking up at 5.30 am and desperately missing home.
I was not okay.
Striding my way through the corridors, I may have seemed ready to take on college life. But in reality, I was scared. I was scared that I was making the wrong choice: the wrong course and the wrong institution.
I thought the feelings of uncertainty would waive off after some time and I would eventually fall in love with college, but boy was I wrong.
I’ll give myself credit for being consistent and organised with my work, managed my time well, passed college with flying colours and juggled a few roles outside of school.
But beneath it all, something felt terribly wrong.
I was constantly hitting the books and I found it increasingly difficult to sit back and not do anything. In between travelling and attending events, I was studying at the most unconventional places.
You may mistake this as diligence, but my motives were clear: I feared failure and not meeting others’ expectations of me.
Grades became my identity and failing to obtain a certain score would disappoint my lecturers, or so I thought.
I remember looking at the big red C+ written on the front page of my quiz paper as my Psychology lecturer asked, “What happened?”
Choking on my words, all I could say was ‘I don’t know’ and managed a weak smile.
That day, I almost cried in front of all my classmates.
Putting too much pressure on myself eventually manifested into an immense hatred towards college. I would do anything to travel back home every week because being out of campus allowed me to breathe, even though it was just for a little while.
The pressure to perform and the frustration that came along with it increased when I convinced myself that the universe was always going against me after a series of unfortunate events.
My laptop broke down near the end of my academic year and I lost all my files. I was selected to cover for an event in Singapore but had to forego the opportunity because it was impossible to renew my passport in time. I was nominated to talk in a conference in Jakarta but was ultimately not selected. Most crushingly, I was rejected by Oxford University, my dream school since 2016.
For days, weeks and months, I wondered what I did wrong, why I was never good enough. I wondered what’s the point of all the hours I poured into my work if nothing ever goes my way.
I was constantly exhausted, both physically and mentally. When I started isolating myself, I skipped dinners with aunts, uncles and family friends. I was grumpy and snapped at my siblings almost every time I saw them. Binge-eating became my way of coping and I stopped going for my morning runs because I thought I needed the extra time to study.
As the pressure I created succumbed me, poetry was the only outlet I turned to. And if you look closely, you’ll find that a lot of them carry a rather melancholic tone.
With written words, I felt safe. I could scream in silence and cry without tears. Most of these were written on the chilling train rides home and they revolved around how I felt during this period.
There was so much I wanted to say, but so little I wanted to share. So, I masked them in metaphors, hoping no one would notice that the hes and the shes were voices of the same person.
I didn’t tell my parents what I was going through because with all the things going on at home, I didn’t want them to worry about me. I didn’t tell my counsellor because I didn’t want to shatter the positive perception she had of me. I didn’t tell my friends because I felt ashamed of having issues in the first place.
For the longest time, I thought one must uphold a certain image when one is deemed an example by others.
Some nights, I had self-harming and suicidal ideations, which thankfully never transpired into actions. I wanted to see a clinical psychologist when things were clearly getting out of hand, but I never came about doing so.
Some days, I felt empty. Even though I was eating lunch with a group of friends, even though I was laughing at jokes, I zoned out too many times and it never felt like I was fully present.
Some days, I felt like everything was spiralling out of my control. It was like running with a punctured bag of water, and no matter how desperately I was trying to hold it together, everything was slipping away.
But for most of the times, I felt like a burden. A burden to myself and a burden to the people around me.
Thinking back now, I did recognise what I was doing to myself, the negative coping mechanisms and catastrophising negative events, but I did nothing to pull myself out of it.
This wasn’t the first time I’ve placed myself in a time-ticking pressure bomb either, and to have let myself down the same hole again after five clean years was rather disappointing.
After college graduation, I eventually relearned how to take care of myself and made sure I did not repeat the same mistakes in university. Actively working on my psychical and mental well-being, I have taken up yoga again and started going for the mindfulness sessions we have on campus. I’m eating healthier now and hitting the gym as often as I can.
When I feel like stress is piling up again, I’d read handwritten notes and letters from friends, go out for a walk, talk to friends, watch John Mulaney or Steve Hofstetter cursing at hecklers. These are some of the little things that lift my spirit when things don’t look good.
Putting all these down in words took me months because a part of me hesitated to revisit the times I’ve let myself down while the other part hesitated to share this with so many people. But if someone reading this can resonate with it, I hope realisation comes earlier for you than it did for me.
As another year comes to an end, I’ve learnt that grades do not define me and the fear of failure is something I have been overcoming little by little every day. I've also learnt that everyone has their own set of problems to face and while our issues may seem smaller than others’, that does not invalidate how we feel.
Here's a reminder to everyone including myself, know that you are not alone and talk to someone when you don’t feel well. If you have friends who seem like they are doing okay, don’t forget to check in on them too, because more often than not, they are the ones who wear the brightest smiles.
Before we wrap this all up, I know this has been a rather depressing write-up *laughs nervously* but I thank you for taking the time to read it, it truly means a lot. If you've struggled with the same fear as I have, let me know how you overcame it below! I'd also love to read how far you've come in 2019 or what you want to achieve in 2020, so feel free to write away in the comment section!
Lastly, Happy New Year everyone, and here’s to a better year ahead!
Mental Health Helplines:
1. Relate Malaysia
E-mail: info@relate.com.my
Website: https://relate.com.my
- provides online psychotherapy at affordable rates
2. Malaysian Mental Health Association (MMHA)
Contact number: 03-2780 6803
E-mail: admin@mmha.org.my
Website: https://mmha.org.my/
- provides therapy and support
- financial subsidies available
3. Befrienders Kuala Lumpur (24 hours, daily)
Helpline: 03-7956 8145
4. Befrienders Penang (3.00 pm – 12.00 am, daily)
Helpline: 04-281 5161 / 04-2811108
WhatsApp: 011-5699 7687
5. Befrienders Ipoh (4.00 pm – 11.00 pm, daily)
Helpline: 05-5477955 / 05-5477933
6. Befrienders Seremban (7.00 pm – 10.00 pm, daily)
Helpline: 06-632 1772 / 06-632 1773
WhatsApp: 018-969 1772
7. Befrienders Melaka (7.00 pm – 12.00 am, daily)
Helpline: 06-284 2500
8. Befrienders Muar (8.00 pm – 11.00 pm, daily)
Helpline: 06-952 0313
9. Befrienders Johor Bharu (1.00 pm – 12.00 am, daily)
Helpline: 07- 331 2300
10. Befrienders Kota Kinabalu (7.00 pm – 10.00 pm, daily)
Helpline: 088-255 788 / 088-259 788
WhatsApp: 016-803 6945
11. Befrienders Kuching (6.30 pm – 9.30 pm, daily)
Helpline: 08-224 2800
For more information: https://www.befrienders.org.my/centre-in-malaysia
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