Mania & Accidents

I had an accident this afternoon. It was my fault. I realized that my Touch n Go was low in credit, and when I reached the Shah Alam toll, and realized that there's this 'Tambah Nilai' lane, I became overly excited and immediately swerved my Kancil to the left; without even noticing a Waja heading right into my left door! Tires screeched, and the smelled of burnt rubber fiiled the air. There was this cringing sound of metal against metal. I didn't even notice whether he sounded his horn or not. In a split second, the driver's face which belong to a mid 30's man was next to me... peering through his window towards my already rolled down left window. He was cursing but I was grinning.

I had no idea why I was grinning. Even though the first thing that came to my mind at that time was: MONEY and HOW AM I GOING TO PAY FOR THIS MESS. But when both of us got out of our cars at the curb after the toll, I immediately said that it was my fault... what? Maybe it was, but hey... he had not accused me yet. Well, it so happened that his car, his front bumper to be exact, was quite badly damaged. We looked at each other and agreed to settle it then and there. So I had to pay him some amount (which was BIG to me since I was broke) but I was still smiling.

Deep in my heart, I was perplexed. Why was I so happy and being indifferent towards the incident? It's an accident for God's sake and a big sum of my hard earned cash had changed hands. Even right now, while writing this, I didn't feel any remorse at all. And there's a smile on my face; not because of the ridiculousness (is there such a word?) of my reaction but because I just cannot help but smile.

I've never felt this way. Or more precisely, I've never realized that I might have felt this way before. Ever since I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, I had done some non-scientific research on my own. And I'm pleased that right now, I am slowly able to 'distance' and 'detach' myself from the actual depression or mania and recognize that I am experiencing one of them. I guess, this is what they call, controlling it. But to me, the 'it' should actually be called 'The Beast.'



I haven't visited these pages for ages... yet somehow, they are luring me back. To fill them with my feelings and emotions, with my happiness and sadness.

So here I am, in front of this tiny screen, churning out word after word, describing my life, my experience, my destiny and my fate. it's very tempting for me to say that life is not fair. But on second thought, maybe it's not fairness that we should look at and scrutinize, but its purpose. My Bipolar Disorder had robbed me of a normal and happy life. No, I do not mean that my life now is unhappy, rather, it's not happily normal. Somehow, it's skewed to one side, ever leaning dangerously on the edge of a cliff. The cliff of suicide and death.

I was not a brilliant student when I studied at MCKK. But I was ok. After getting my scholarship to the States to pursue my dream in architecture, I was constantly getting good grades and more than a few times, getting into the Dean's list. But life is... a life. Things changed and so did my life. After 3 years in the states and enjoying a successful career as a student, the table turned. I started to suffer from depression... at least that's what the counselors and doctors told me. when the illness first hit me, I didn't want to see any doctors. I just slept at home. Didn't go to my studio or lectures. Didn't do any assignment and didn't attend any exams. My GPA was 0 (yes, you read it right: ZERO). But I didn't worry at all. What I knew at that time was how to end my life. That's all. Everything was dark. Everything was cold. Negativity breed like mushroom during the rainy season. Filling the voids in my mind and pushing whatever sanity that I had left, out, into the openness of this small midwestern town. None of my friends could do anything... none...zilch. Letters after letters from the Malaysian Students Department at Chicago arrived threatening to end my scholarship, but I was indifferent towards them. Until one of my professors, forced me to see a doctor.

And I was on Zoloft after that.

I was supposed to get better, but I did not. My GPA became like a roller coaster. One semester 3+ and another too low, that many times almost touching 0.0... I had to extend another 2 years due to my instability. I didn't know what was happening to me. But I knew that something was wrong. Seriously wrong. Terribly wrong... But of course, I've never heard about Bipolar. I was just suffering from depression. So, after 7 years of hardships in the state of Iowa, I finally graduated... I was happy, not realizing that the nightmare had not ended; it actually had just begun.