My name is Tajul. I suffer from major depression. I’ve had it for quite some time now. I don’t remember how it started but I remember thinking about my past sins. All the wrongdoings that I did in my life. One day, it all came back to me.
No! I wasn’t a thief, a robber, a drug addict or anything like that. I was being cruel to myself and my siblings, especially toward my siblings. I could not forgive my action toward my brothers when we were little. Well, they were little. I was already an adult and I should have known better. But I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t kind. I was a monster.
Now, the past is catching up with me and I’m paying a very high price. I can’t operate like a normal person anymore. I can’t work, I don’t like to go out. Too ashamed of what I did.
I just couldn’t help but kept on thinking of what I did. I just couldn’t believe I could do what I did to my own flesh and blood. When I thought about it, I cried and I slapped my own face. I screamed my lungs out. I didn’t dare to kill myself. I wanted to but I didn’t dare.
It helped; screaming and slapping my face but for a little while only.
My brothers have forgiven me. All of them. They said they are OK now. They have their own life, their own family and they are happy. They told me to stop thinking of the past but I could not do that. I could not forgive nor could I forget.
One day I could not take it anymore, so I marched to my doctor’s surgery, told him of my pain and he gave me a referral letter to see a psychiatrist.
I went to see the psychiatrist. He was kind. I was given Pristiq. A pink square tablet. I took it until 2014 and changed it to somehting else when I returned to Malaysia. I don’t remember the name of the second medicine I took. I changed medicine three times but now I’m on Prozac.
I felt much better after taking the medicine. But there was still something inside of me that kept on messing with my head. My doctor told me that I needed to get out. I needed to do something to preoccupy myself. Not for anyone else’s sake but for my own.
Since I’m not working anymore, I started writing a novel. A book about my pain. I chose this path mainly because I didn’t have to go out or meet people or whatever. I wanted to remain anonymous but I wanted everyone to hear me. To understand my message. To understand my lot!
I wrote the story after I had an episode. I stopped taking medicine for a month and I realised it was stupid of me to do so. It was painful. It hurt.
So I wrote the story because I wanted those who suffer from mental illness, to understand how important medicine is to us. And I want the family of a mental illness person to understand us. Don’t judge us or mock us and call us ‘gila’ but please help us. Please get to know us, the pain that we have to go through every single day. Please!
It’s my first book. My source of income now since I can’t do anything else. If you want to buy the book, you can contact my Facebook page. It’s in Bahasa Malaysia.
I feel much better after writing it but not everyone is kind, especially those who are close to me. They mock me and say unkind things to me. How’s the sale? Laku keras ke? Kalau tak laku, kau bunuh dirilah. Mesti orang beli nanti etc.
These people should read the book and understand me. Understand us but no. They prefer to live in ignorance.
I think that’s all for now. I will write again and I hope my story will help others.
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