I am writing this on a Saturday evening the 23rd of May. Thanks to the novel corona virus we are all under lockdown and the illusion has created a pause on time-lapse. I have sat on my laptop pondering over my thoughts, entertaining a few of them. My phone lights up beside me…leading me to write about this. Writing is my drug, although not an addiction, it helps my mind stray from the claws of idleness.
In the background, Insecurities by the famous Sauti Sol Band is playing. I jam to every bit as they echo in the thin air of my room. The song sets me in a mood and is totally synced up to the subject I am preparing to write about. Kenyans would say Hiyo song iko na content to mean that the song is well written with meaningful content and message. It has to be one of the best songs around.
I start typing away, feeling like the universe is in tandem with my will. When my phone blinked, it was Malkia (real name withheld) that had texted me. Her message was very simple “I am tired…” I did not respond immediately. I let the message linger a bit in my thoughts before I decided to call her back.
“Hello…” I said in a clear voice. “Hello, sasa Vanilla?” she responded in a disturbed tone. I could read that her demeanour was not all jolly as she usually is. There is another brief pause before she goes ahead and talks “aki I am tired of this quarantine and I am losing my mind. Nimechoka kufikiria sana and I am getting depressed.” At this point I am still thinking that it is the usual quarantine talk. Everyone has been complaining that their lives are bland and laced with routine, loneliness and generally boredom. She continues “Being around people makes me run away from my thoughts especially clubbing. It helps me remain sane and keeps my demons in check, the very demons I am struggling to fight with right now, a losing battle.” It is at this juncture that my concern grows and I become as much of curious as I am willing to listen incessantly to her. “Why do you say that mami?” my voice is now a hushed tone, inquisitive and not rushed. I say as I reduce the volume of the song that was blasting through my room’s space.
“Watching people do crazy things kwa club hutoa akili yangu kwa mawazo mob na pia inapitisha time unaona. Si lazima nikae nikifikiria story za home na shida zangu. Nakaa tu hadi asubuhi na niko sawa, at least for the moment things are okay but right now I am stuck with myself.” She says with a less vibrant voice. You can sense that her attitude has changed, more like she is opening up. It is genuine and comes with conviction. Like it has all been bottled up in her. My immediate response is to tell her the usual usijali but I instinctively tell her to go on and tell me everything, I shall be listening to her.
I take a note pad and a pen and sit on the couch beside my bed. I do not mean to write anything but I sketch a few things lazily as I listen to her. The phone call is long, she does most of the talking as I egg her on to continue talking. I listen to everything she says with concern and care, striking a delicate balance between comforting her and being empathetic, between listening to her and not seeming to be barely responding to her, asking her questions and not appearing as wooing her to overshare. As she hangs up, she admits that she feels much better and lighter for sharing her troubles with me. I tell her it is okay and that she will come out better, she giggles and wishes me a good quarantining.
Malkia is a mirror of the tragedy that is depression that eats away at us. She is a depressed adult who is just as functional and appears perfectly fine from the outside. Within, she is fighting her demons, battling them and looking for control. Without, she is a social butterfly that frequents clubs and night outs. She would strike you as the most fun person you will ever see as she takes to dance her troubles away and get drowned in the entertainment river, as she flows in the gutters of night revelers.
Malkia’s drug is the bubble of entertainment. She uses it to hide her sorrows and fears. She uses it to cover her depression. She uses it to suppress her demons. And this is not far from what most depressed people do. It is just that different drugs work for different people. Others prefer to be entangled in the webs of actual drugs while others like Malkia prefer more subtle means like clubbing. In our long conversation, Malkia intimates that she is the daughter of a single mother. She further elucidates that she has to use sleeping pills to sleep and that waking up in the morning is difficult for her. Mornings mark the end of nightmares but for Malkia mornings mark the dawn of her struggles and nightmares. She can not remember the last time she felt good about herself or people around her. She wants to drown her sorrows in induced sleep the whole day.
Her thoughts were that this quarantine would allow her some space from the pressures of school work and exams and in turn make her have peace of mind. She could never be more wrong. Instead, it turned on her. Her single mom had to find a kahustle for her to help them meet their needs during this period. She barely lasted a few weeks there. The job required her to report to work three days a week and work from home the rest of the week. She would call in sick every time she ought to appear for work. She did this for three weeks and lost her job. Her reason for this was that she did not feel like staying around people. She resented people and wanted to be alone.
I gathered that when all these began, Malkia thought that it was just a nesting stage and that it would pass. It grew everyday digging a hole in her life and she now knows not how deep the rabbit hole goes. She has developed poor eating habits which have clearly manifested in her recent photos. A look at Malkia’s Instagram account will have you drooling. She has a significant following and looks completely fine, almost too happy. Her life seems normal.
“My depression over the years has been manifested as madness, frustration and anger. I have really bad mood swings and it just looks like I cannot control my moods anymore. These have greatly affected my lifestyle and how I relate with people because no one seems to understand how depression operates.”
I never knew how to respond to these words and instead just let them linger in my thoughts. She said she is jealous of other people’s relationships because her own disposition does not allow her to be happy in a relationship. You have to be happy on your own before you let another person make you happy. She said “unajua mimi ata maboy siwataki, sitaki relationship ju I think I am toxic. I think naezaleta issues mob sana kwa relationship, I am so toxic. They tell me I am pretty but I know they can not handle half the burden that I am. I do not feel enough”
Her depression has affected her relationships with people and even herself.
So, what is depression and what is mental health and what happened to Malkia?
Keep it here for Part II.