More and more frequently, my email and text message inboxes receive messages asking for help. On good days, I take action immediately, sometimes following up with a call back to find out whatever the matter is, and how I may help. On bad days, I take hours to reply- spending that time to let the dust of chaos settle within me.
Unless I’m all right, I can’t do anything to help you. The paralysis is both frustrating and painful.
That day, I met you again, this time at a bus stand. You looked much better. The last time I met you, you were a wreck, and had wanted to kill yourself. This time, your eyes were brighter, there was a certain hopefulness in your smile, and you didnt show me your slit wrists. You told me you took my advice and informed your mentor, and decided to see a counselor more regularly. You were on your way to see a psychiatrist at a private hospital. I told you to keep up with it regularly. "Depression is like Tuberculosis," I said, "If you stop treatment once the symptoms subside, you can be sure of a relapse... It’s like a virus. Latent reactivation. Keep up with the counseling. Make sure problems are solved for good.” I smiled weakly. That sounded like really cheesy advice, I thought.
She understood.
We talked a little more but when we got on the bus, my mind was too preoccupied with the duststorm of chaos that was brewing within me from the day’s events. Also, I was afraid. I always am, even when I don’t show it. I’m not a professional. I can only do and say this much to you. I am limited. And the words, “I come first”, selfish as they sound, came to my mind, as I remembered what others had so often reminded me- that whatever it was, my own welfare had to come first, and I had to love myself before loving others, help myself before reaching out. If one is not careful, Blackness can spread like gangrene.
So, I walked away.
Instead of taking the train together with you, I looked back, said, “See you!” and walked away. Something inside me said I'd done my part, enough was enough and it was okay to walk away.
Later that evening, I received a text message from you: “Hey Wai Jia, you seemed to be in a hurry. Anyway.. Im thankful every time I meet you. Your care and concern for others warms my heart. Hope youll have a blessed day.”
How it stung.
Instead of the warm and fuzzy feelings it was supposed to invoke, the message stung me. At once, my face was hot with embarrassment. It wanted to hide itself under a paper bag. I cannot describe the feeling of wretchedness except to say that it was a moment, one of those moments, which made me mad with a hot fury, and which made me want to leave the Blackness behind.
I walked away because I was afraid.
I purposefully, consciously and deliberately walked away from you. Even when I met you at the MRT platform the last time, I remember I shifted myself strategically away from you because I didn’t have a great day and wanted time to myself. If you weren’t so desperate, I would have completely lost you. I can't believe I did that.
How your message stung.
Not once ever again do I want to turn someone away because I was too busy coping with my own darkness to shine light into theirs. How can I cradle someone else’s if Im too busy coping with my own?
At times like these, I realize how silly, stupid and small my own cares and worries are, how much I really do want to be completely wholesome and free from Blackness so I can be there for someone else instead of being busy being there for me.
I’m so thankful. And I’m so sorry.
I’m so sorry for walking away. And thankful that you're okay now.
I promise to save Stars for you next time.
"Forget not to show love unto strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares."
-Hebrews 13:2
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