#sgelections PAP, you are missing the point

I am sick of the words 'track record', are you?

This term being repeatedly used as a trump card by the incumbent party's members further cements the fact that they are truly missing the point.

So, what is the point exactly?

The PAP does indeed have a track record - a cleaned up Singapore River, HDB flats, tuberculosis control, making spitting in public illegal, transitioning Singapore's economy from primary to tertiary industries, et cetera. Note that these examples really are, firstly, true - just pick up any history book - secondly, they are facts in history, that is, the past.

If the PAP continues to advocate that its track record in the past is the basis for our future, it is nakedly acknowledging that Singapore as a society has not evolved as a civilisation since the time of our independence from the British. Which is saying that Singapore has not truly developed, a huge political leadership failure! The implication of what they have been touting, is that as long as we have our basic needs met, we are satisfied, and should be, (or else). That may be true for the poorest of the poor: food to eat, shelter and safety, these are the basic needs of any human being, cf. Abraham Maslow. Before you can talk about intrinsic needs of a human being such as self-esteem, we really do need shelter, be it HDB flats or the what-have-you sheltered walkways.

But harping on and on about having provided the basics as their track record only reflects how archaic and uncivilised the minds of the PAPies are. I refer you to Emile Durkheim, The Division of Labour in Society, 1893 (emphases mine) -

This does not mean that civilization has no use, but that it is not the services that it renders that make it progress. It develops because it cannot fail to develop. Once effectuated, this development is found to be generally useful, or, at least, it is utilized. It responds to needs formed at the same time because they depend upon the same causes. But this is an adjustment after the fact. Yet, we must notice that the good it renders in this direction is not a positive enrichment, a growth in our stock of happiness, but only repairs the losses that it has itself caused. It is because this superactivity of general life fatigues and weakens our nervous system that it needs reparations proportionate to its expenditures, that is to say, more varied and complex satisfactions. In that, we see even better how false it is to make civilization the function of the division of labor; it is only a consequence of it. It can explain neither the existence nor the progress of the division of labor, since it has, of itself, no intrinsic or absolute value, but, on the contrary, has a reason for existing only in so far as the division of labor is itself found necessary.

In layman's terms, "Who cares about upgrading?!" is the very essence of this sociological thought, and this extract alone should be read in accompaniment with the rest of Durkheim's writings to gain a full picture of what I am about to say. We have evolved as a society, which means that now what we need apart from food and shelter, and 'upgrading', are 'complex satisfactions': Political freedom, not a mock sense of democracy. Solidarity - a feeling of kinship and community. I could go on, but let's just stick to these two examples.

You have probably heard enough from opposition party members about how the PAP wayangs and kelongs through the GRC system and suchlike. I shan't elaborate more, but I will refer you to an extract from NSP's Ken Sun's book, "Concerns for Political Balance" which quotes Dr Lawrence Britt in his article, "Fascism Anyone". According to Sun's book, Britt listed several critical features of Fascism:

... Disdain for human rights: people are persuaded that it is all right to ignore certain human rights such as imprisonment without trial, long incarcerations of prisoners, etc... Cronyism and corruption: important state institutions are often governed by friends, relatives and associates who appoint or support one another, without much accountability and transparency. Unfair elections: common use of threats, and legislation to control or influence the voters. Other tactics include boundary gerrymandering, smear campaigns, character assassinations, hounding of opposition candidates, media manipulation and lawsuits.

I think you can make your own conclusions as to how fascist, or democratic, Singapore's political regime is from what Sun has written. (I would advise that you research on the history of Fascism on your own too; triangulate your research from multiple sources.)

What I do want to pitch in on is the need for Singaporeans to feel a sense of connectedness to one another. As Durkheim has expounded also in his sociological theory, population growth that is too rapid leads a society towards a disintegration of its persona, essentially degrading the solidarity of its people. As I have written before, nobody is propagating a supremacist regime of completely disallowing population growth through foreign immigration to our country. But the toll it takes on the social structure of our nation is apparent, valid, and relevant. When the PAP fails to address this issue, it fails to fulfill the human need to feel a sense of belonging. Yes, I am referencing Maslow again, because really, who hasn't read his theory of the hierarchy of needs? Yet the PAP seems stuck on merely wanting to fulfill the lowest rungs of this hierarchy of needs and banging on about its track record of already doing so. It really makes me wonder how well-read my majority representatives of state truly are, if they do not even exhibit basic academic knowledge of psychology, sociology and management schools of thought.

I am no academic, I only got a third class honours grade, and I had to dig up Durkheim to read again because I only scraped through first year sociology. But if I can write this, and the PAP can't even make one layman reference to the more intrinsic needs of Singapore as a civilisation, then really, the party has missed the point so greatly that there may never be any way back.

#sgelections My parents brought me up this way.

Today I am not ashamed to say I am anti-PAP, nor am I afraid to do so regardless of where I am declaring this. As I have been saying a lot recently, I am just a kucing kurap 3-room flat resident and am no threat to anyone. If declaring my political alliance and disagreements is illegal, saying I am anti-PAP would merely be a petty crime. That is also why I firmly stand on planting the opposing party's flag at my corridor window on the very night I bought one.

That flag represents my household's vote - officially on paper, my mom and myself are the owners and family unit members of this flat. My dad is a Malaysian, I have no siblings, and I only have a common law husband. When I called my mom to tell her she had to come back to Singapore to vote this May 7, she said, "Come back just vote for the opposition will do." That's my folks for you. If we could have voted every year there were elections in Singapore, it would always be a cross in the opposition party's check box. My dad has told me before, and I paraphrase, that PAP sucks. He did not elaborate much further than that. My dad is a river-runs-deep kind of guy.

The audacity with which I proclaim my anti-PAP sentiments today would have been a big problem in the past, so I never heard my parents outright declare their disdain for the ruling government too often when I was growing up; I shut up for a long while myself too, only proseletysing the need to rage against the machine in private circles, in somewhat hushed tones. Well, if you know me in person, you know I can't really do hushed tones, but you get the drift.

Even in the early noughties, it would have been quite a silly thing to declare on the internet your hatred for the ruling party - the blogosphere was small and blogs were the bread and butter of online citizen journalists. With the proliferation of social media today I doubt any one will knock on your door to send you to jail just because you tweeted with a hashtag that states an opposition party's name or have become a fan of an opposition party's Facebook page.

This levels the playing field, so now I am about to delve into how my parents helped turn me against the Lee regime from early childhood.

You know by now I was that girl who went up on stage to deliver flowers to Tan Chee Kien at an opposition rally when I was around nine years old. That night itself was my first experience in rally-chasing. In my parents' car, we drove round from location to location and I remember thinking to myself, 'Finally!' when we arrived at the rally I was supposed to do my job at.

As time unfolded, so did more stories from my parents about their political affiliations and the forces behind them.

My dad is a Malaysian, and when he first arrived in Singapore in the early seventies, he worked for the Singapore police. After that, he and my mom, aspiring entrepreneurs with a kid in tow, tried countless times to apply for some form of residency for him to remain in Singapore with his Singaporean wife, Singaporean daughter and to build a Singaporean registered company.

They went to meet the MP in their ward. They wrote letters of appeal, they hired lawyers to write the same. My mom was chided by the PAP MP she met to discuss this, told off with a "Who asked you to marry a Malaysian?" and sent away from the Meet-the-People's session. No can do, didn't work, my dad had to leave the country. For good.

So my mom had to raise me on her own. I didn't know that till much later. I had depression even as a child, so I really don't have a full-strung chain of memories.

My mom and dad are renegades, so eventually they found a way to beat the system. It involved something illegal, and I will share it here only because it happened more than twenty years ago - I reckon it would be too late now to consider it a chargeable offence. My mom couldn't possibly run a business and raise a little girl on her own while knowing her husband was suffering and lonely in nearby JB, so she drove over with me in tow, and smuggled my dad back to Singapore. I was an accessory, told to smile and chat to the customs officer as we passed the gantry with my dad in the trunk. My dad stayed in Singapore to provide for his family - us - for five years, illegally.

My mom would only tell you this story in person when she is adequately inebriated, so that was how I found out about it myself too. When I did know about it at last - no, I didn't know at the time during the actual smuggling - I pieced together the reasons for my parent's disagreement with Singapore's ruling party.

Their MP didn't listen, and not only that, he provided no solution to my parents' very real problem in protecting their livelihood and family unit. The government declined my dad's countless applications and appeals for a permit to stay in Singapore, no matter that he worked for the very same government before, no matter that his family needed protection from separation and a means of living.They were tossed aside like garbage, literally, and my dad had to be reunited with us clandestinely.

My mom herself, she was more of an ardent PAP supporter to begin at first. Because she witnessed firsthand the advent of HDB flats - respite from the horrid longhouse conditions she grew up in. But after seeing what my dad had to go through at the hands of the same government that built the houses, she had her Hillary Clinton moment and switched sides. It was a gradual switch, my mom isn't easily convinced. Other clinchers included the cruel way she was instructed to have very few children and thereafter see the policy change in front of her when Singapore's birth rate declined too far. I don't know if she had to do drastic things like an abortion when she was young, which would be very much in line with the population policy advocated at the time. But having to go through two very different kinds of instructions where life is concerned, will be traumatising for any young woman.

Then came the financial hardship. My mom's family is wealthy, but being female, the family business she helped build did not give her any share of the profits. So it was just her and my dad, building a business on their own together. It was hard, because not too long after, the 1987 recession occurred.

Today we hear opposition parties talk about financial assistance for the poor and marginalised of society. For us when I was growing up, the only means my parents could turn to for financial assistance was by going into debt. We were the poor and marginalised, and we definitely did not get any help at all by the ruling party's government.

I pieced all of my experiences, recollections and retelling of my parents' stories, and now it has become our family's identity to be pro-opposition. For the marginalised like we were, the opposition parties were our only hope for change.

With that kind of a political upbringing, it isn't too difficult for me to be left-wing. Combine  that with my constant desire to help the voiceless, the poorest of the poor, those without basic care. Combine that with the well of empathy in me that overflows into tears for the lonely. Combine that with my destiny to be in the business of making a difference in this world. It really is no wonder that I am a renegade replica of my parents.

Karl Marx was right, the marginalised population produces the political change necessary to overthrow the ruling power. The PAP marginalised my parents throughout their adulthood spent in this country. Thanks to that, May 7, the opposition party gets our votes.

#sgelections Against FT influx = Being a Supremacist?

It has been said in the recent run-up to the elections that "Singaporeans feel like foreigners in our own country," with 36% of the population being foreign talents, affectionately also known as foreign trash. Of course, no one calls them trash publicly, we aren't neo-Nazis, right? But in the tethering fabric of what is left of Singaporean solidarity, calling foreign talents, foreign trash, endears us to one another more. Because we really feel like they are marring our country with their smells.

We also hate that FTs are given more opportunities in schools over true-bred Singaporeans. We hate that their cultures stain ours and deconstruct it to the point we feel alienated. We hate that they are given the privilege of citizenship in a blink of an eye, when not too long ago, it was near-impossible to become a foreign 'talent'. Yes, to that last reference I am citing the case of my father's mission-in-vain to become a Singaporean PR, nay, even a work permit would have sufficed, after serving in the Singapore Police Force, marrying my Singaporean mother locally, and having me, in this country, during the 80s.

But are we being supremacists in wanting to rid ourselves of the negativity that FTs have brought onto our island country? In wanting to 'give Singaporeans priority' in education and employment? Isn't that being somewhat Neo-Nazi and Bumiputera?

We aren't suggesting ethnic cleansing of any sort that involves degrading into some form of genocide of all FTs in Singapore. (Actually, I believe there are some out there would want that, social genocide at the very least). We want after all simply a true democracy that is relevant to this time and age. It makes sense because we are a moderate country without extremists anymore. By the way, if you are wondering where the radical Communists have gone, I hear some of them are still up north near Thailand. Anyway, no, we aren't degenerating into wanting to flush out the impure citizens that have already infiltrated our trains and supermarkets.

But even without genocidal thoughts, it may be misconstrued that wanting fewer FTs in our own country counts as being supremacist, like the Nazis and Neo-Nazis. I think I speak for all those who are against the influx of FTs, that it is not their arrival per se that makes us feel a lack in Singaporean-ness. It is the process in which they are integrated and the pace at which we are opening our doors to them coming in. We aren't being supremacist, we just feel that we need a little justice.

Look at other cosmopolitan cities, like say, New York City. The city loves itself for being cosmopolitan to the point they can get any kind of cuisine in the city and meet people from different nationalities all the time. It actually makes their city feel special. It makes New Yorkers -  American - even, because they are the land of the free that opened its doors till today to all who want a better life.

So why don't we feel that way here in Singapore? Why do we feel an injustice with the current level of foreigner-to-local ratio?

I learned before in business school - human resource management - about procedural justice. Sometimes it is not the decision that is made that makes people feel unjustly treated, it is the way the decision was made. The process itself, not the end-result. Kind of how it is when you watch your team play your favourite sport - did they play well? If so, it was a good game to watch, even if your team lost in the end. NB. this rule does not apply to gamblers.

I am going to make a crude analogy to further explain our indignation against the current level of FTs living in Singapore, please skip this paragraph if you may get offended. If Singapore was a prostitute, we have opened our legs too wide, and too freely to FTs, inviting them to come and fuck us and get free memberships for life to do so. High class escorts serve one client a night, whereas comfort women during the Japanese Occupation were repeatedly abused to service the soldiers sexually with no breaks in between. Which kind of sexual servant are we, Singapore?

In order to become a cosmopolitan city that Singaporeans would be really proud and connected living in, we need to change the process and slow down the pace a little on inviting other nationalities to become part of us. How that should be done - you have heard and will hear more during the upcoming opposition party rallies in their promises.

We are not being supremacists. We just want our team to play well, and be a high-class social escort. We do feel Singaporean when we walk down, say, Katong, and find so many different cuisines available, from local to exotic. We do want to be the iconic Singapore Girl that smiles at tourists and newcomers to our island showing them how to get from point A to B. We just don't want to feel outnumbered and trumped unjustly. This feeling is not one of being supremacist. It is simply wanting to see justice in how well and how quickly FTs enter our land.

once again, time to write about -

I seldom write about politics so it wasn't hard to try and find anything on this 8 year old blog that was vaguely political in content. I found two posts. One was the post I got quoted on Today from. The other is on Marxism. Those two are all there are on the topic of politics.

I guess the Marxist post still resonates with me because re-reading it inspired me to write this post, here, now. I see Marx as a sociologist more so as than the founder of Communism so I have no qualms about publicly writing that I agree with Marx.

Where I stand exactly on this - agreement - is what I shall clarify tonight.

There are books that are Communist-angled that have truly inspired me: Doris Lessing's The Golden Notebook. Che Guevera's The Motorcycle Diaries. Even Tash Aw's The Harmony Silk Factory is somewhat uplifting. I love the ideology that drives social change even if it is Marx-derived and therefore dangerous to admit so.

Recently SDA's Chiam See Tong (once again, I am not related to him) made a declaration to participate in this year's elections because even though it is hard for him at his age, he says that it is more truly difficult for the people who are suffering in today's Singapore and it is for them that he is continuing to campaign. His declaration made me shed a tear. This is what should inspire political ambition. The sight of masses of humanity in need in your own nation - or in Che Guevera's case, continent - is what should trigger the need for a revolution.

Hence I support the ideals behind Communists such as Che Guevera because of the fact that the ideology, the ambition, and the cause were all because of the masses whose lives could be made far better.

But I disagree with Communism in practice. In reality, Communism as an administrative system does not work, as we can see in so many countries today. Imagery of bespectacled citizens being executed or exiled from their countries because they are educated does not sit with me at all and conjures up tears. Capitalism is still necessary and is in my opinion not the polar opposite of Communism such that they cannot co-exist in the same system. How else will we have food to eat? I am Protestant and believe in the Protestant work-ethic too, so no way am I against capitalism because I believe in Karl Marx's theory.

A new ideology needs to come up from another mind in present times that will be as brilliant as Marx was in his time, one that will be relevant to today's social structures, today's literacy levels, and one that can co-exist with capitalism without unfair power imbalances. If you ever write a thesis on such an theory, let me know. 

Marx essentially said that the regular man (the peasant, the proletariat) will eventually 'wake up idea' and a revolution will definitely take place for a complete paradigm shift in the balance of power. But today, we are educated enough to have woken up our ideas so to speak. The problem today is not about realising that the bourgeoisie have intrinsic power over the people, because we already realise that. We have realised, and we are upset about it.

This emotional response breeds two kinds of behaviour in our society. One is nonchalance, where we admit that the ruling party simply has too much power shrouded in elitism - untouchable - then we sigh and shrug and just go on with our daily lives. The other response is to support left-centre ideology parties that have actually good plans in place to better our fellow man's welfare in this country simply because we want to fight the bourgeois elite ruling party.

As for those partisans contesting the ruling party, the real challenge is still Marxist in nature. To what extent have we woken up our ideas that the ruling party has too much power? What the opposition parties need to do is to realign the ideas that need to be 'woken up'. Ideas that will inspire them to change and want change and want your party to be the one to change the face of Singapore. Sylvia Lim of WP is doing a good job of that.

Obviously, a revolution Egyptian 2011 style is not going to take place because in Singapore, participation in anything remotely like that is going to be suicide in this country. But when the proletariat masses finally awaken and realise that, 'Hey, ruling party buys our votes with monetary gains, do I want my kids to be materialistic Singaporeans and nothing else?' a revolution of another kind will come into play. It will be slow, it will be small at first, but eventually, the tide will turn, and as it has been written - the Tipping Point will emerge to change the face of our political climate and therefore our societal power balances.

No revolution involved that involves guerrillas fighting in jungles or masses gathering with banners shouting for so-and-so to resign. But still a revolution is needed, and will happen. And that thought is Marxist is nature, because his pyramid imagery of society always turns over.

And that's that. Now you know where I stand on Marxism in relation to today's political climate in my own country. Sounds like a lot armchair-theorising about a very real and practical issue at hand, but Marxist ideology drives a lot of admirable politicians and change-makers whether they realise it or not. If you ever were moved to change something somewhere in society because you came face-to-face with a marginalised member of society in suffering - you have had a Che Guevera moment. Go buy a tee-shirt with his face on it, he looks better than Karl Marx.

friends... or not

It is nice to talk serious stuff with someone - philosophy, spirituality and the like - and not feel tired out by it. Intellectual conversations spiced with witty banter, yet with honesty and a lack of frivolity about life, these things in conversations make a friendship even more meaningful.

Group conversations tire me out more. I can talk with someone one-on-one for a much longer time. Recently most of the people I spend time with outside of the virtual world, i.e. Real Life, are my gaming buddies. They are mostly guys. I like talking to them in a group and one to one, one being more tiring than the other, but our common interest draws us together and it is more fun than it is pressurising to be with them, compared with other groups of friends.

Sometimes it gets unclear; Platonic relationships are hard to define, with so many male species of friends in my circle now. So many seemingly implied actions, mixed with emotional (and recreational) intimacy, it is hard to interpret if they want friendship only, or more. I love my girlfriends because our intimacy has no such barriers, but of course, my girlfriends are high-end achievers in their careers and very busy, so it is not often we have bonding sessions of intimacy. Hence most of my emotional intimacy is derived from my more available friends now, unfortunately male. So the lines get a bit unclear.

Especially in this day and age. What actions imply an intention to create a more-than-friends relationship? Times are cheap; even after two friends, say, have sex together, it could be nothing more than just a recreational activity that two friends indulge in together. Things get confusing and I hardly want to be a part of such grey activity. But even other things can get misconstrued: sentences such as "I like talking to you," "I can't sleep without hearing your voice first," "You have beautiful eyes," and other seemingly unclear intimate statements that wouldn't be unclear if it were a girlfriend. What do you mean when you say such things to a sex that you might be attracted to?

Especially with men, not boys. Boys lay their feelings on the line more easily; I could get more success with asking, "Are you in love with me?" and things turn black or white far sooner. Men don't let their emotions betray their actions, acting calculatedly and are far more able to see woods for the trees. Which makes me just another tree - nothing special really. That aside, with men it is far harder to guess their intentions because very little emotion is on display and these emotions may or may not be authentic of love or similar. They play the girl-game like a chess event. With this generation of men I really am not sure sometimes and I cannot really ask for fear of losing a friend.

So the game of implications and implications continue on. Is it just me?

Platonic friendships were easier when I was younger. I was one of the guys, and I knew that, and they knew that. Times then were more black and white: physical contact that buddies do not indulge in, simply implies interest in a more-than-friends connection. This connection is clear, it is a love relationship with intention to eventually marry. No such things as fuck-buddies, flings or just-for-now relationships. While I am still very boyish, it is sometimes harder to been seen as just one of the boys nowadays. The rules have changed, and I am older and I guess more womanly no matter how many male-traits I still have. (Fats perhaps?)

In the past it was classic knowledge to not lead someone on if you are not interested the way he is. You don't invite a guy back to your place for coffee because coffee means sex, so unless that isn't your intention you don't extend that kind of invitation. I don't think such courtesies are very relevant nowadays. Maybe because people are lonelier now, they like the company and attention even if they don't want to love the other person back now, or ever. They want to fill the gaps and voids in their lives. Love has become impossible to them and hence activities of love indulged with someone passable, will suffice. We live in cheap times. I admit I have fallen.

Thus I have framed this poem up in my room to remind me:

Be not afraid,
You should never be
abandoned.
- Neglected
Fearful of loss
For loss brings
gain - in love
gain - brings loss
in dignity.
You are greater -
than you - imagine
I love you all the
same - he should
too.

crush

My first crush on a boy was on my first day of primary school. His name was Christopher. He was a bit waifish: fair, skinny, reserved. Much like my second crush, Kenji, whom I met when I was barely eight years old, and adored all the way till I was eleven. Ha, I have no idea where the idea of having a crush descended from. I just knew I liked him. Nice to look at, makes my heart a-flutter, gives me some reason to wear my hair nicely when I go to school, that sort of thing. No, I wasn't reading Sweet Valley High prematurely, I really only read Enid Blyton till I reached my tweens. TV was not like it is now; I pretty much grew up on just SBC 8 drama serials and cartoons, so, no, I didn't get my romantic ideas from TV.

Back then, and in most of my teenage years, we had crushes based on looks and personality. She's so cute, so cool - that was it. Today, single adults are so jaded. 'Looks' and 'personality' are otherwise known as just 'fuckability' in today's SATC-styled world. A crush becomes a false hope, a fling, or a broken relationship - one of the above. Having a crush is a sign of being immature. Real adults have relationships based on a whole lot more than just looks and personality. If you have a crush, too bad. Forget it, unless you two are compatible can communicate have common interests are on the same social standing have the money to get married blah blah.

Is having a crush really an adult faux pas? What explains physical attraction? Is it just part of the equation in finding lovable companionship? I cannot love a man based on his social qualifications. But I can fall in love with a crush. Go figure that one, and tell me.

About Clinical Depression - 2

Symptoms

1. Persistently sad, anxious, or "empty" mood
2. Feelings of hopelessness, pessimism
3. Feelings of guilt, worthlessness, helplessness
4. Loss of interest or pleasure in hobbies and activities that were once enjoyed, including sex
5. Insomnia, early-morning awakening, or oversleeping
6. Decreased appetite and/or weight loss, or overeating and weight gain
7. Fatigue, decreased energy, being "slowed down"
8. Thoughts of death or suicide, suicide attempts
9. Restlessness, irritability
10. Difficulty concentrating, remembering, making decisions
11. Persistent physical symptoms that do not respond to treatment, such as headaches, digestive disorders, and chronic pain

Depression symptoms may be a cause of other illnesses, so it is advisable that all organic causes are ruled out first. Anti-depressants should not be doled out on a whim without first examining other physical symptoms and ruling out other possible illnesses. Depression symptoms should also be experienced over a prolonged period before it can be diagnosed as clinical depression and not a mere 'mood swing' or 'psychosomatic symptoms of stress'.


I experienced all eleven of these symptoms when I went to see my psychiatrist.


Today with medication and trying my best, I only experience:

#1, #2, #3 during some days of the weeks, or some hours of a day, instead of every day and every hour.
#4 is better now than before.
#5 is fully alleviated by medication.
#6 is more than okay. My appetite is fine, too fine that I am getting fat.
#7 is still persistently there. I have to force myself to do things.
#8... is still present sometimes, when I think about things like, what will happen if I never get better and my parents pass on.
#9 and #10 still there.
#11 is gone, I am no longer sick everyday. I however get migraine headaches when I am in tiring scenarios such as social situations, for example when I have to spend time with a group of friends, or when I have to talk about myself or find things to talk about with people.

About Clinical Depression, or Major Depressive Disorder - 1

It all started for me when I was perhaps nineteen years old and I slipped past the television set in the living area of my parents’ house in Johor Baru, Malaysia. It was turned on to Channel NewsAsia, broadcasting a programme which was talking about some disease that was affecting more and more people statistically, worldwide, and in Asia. I read the symptoms of this disease, and my immediate thought was, “Hey, that sounds like me! That sounds like what I have!”

That sickness, which is an epidemic now, in Asia and the world, which kills about 15% of all who suffer from it, so it is possibly fatal: major depressive disorder, or clinical depression. And that was me. I realised those symptoms were me, all my life, as far as I can remember. So in other words, I have never been happy, until I started seeking medical help.

- Chiam Elaine, previously unpublished

For some reason, due to my level of empathy, or perhaps because I started to open up to people more, I started to uncover people around me who either wondered if they too were ill, or were sure they were definitely clinically depressed, either diagnosed or at the time untreated. It shocked me to realise there were so many people in my social sphere that were feeling at least a measure of the grief I had been feeling all my life.

So I decided to write this article about this grieving sickness which Winston Churchill called 'his black dog' of depression. Be it whether you are that person I uncovered recently, or the one who opened up to me, or a loved one of yours has suspected or diagnosed clinical depression - I hope this article helps in some way. I also hope that if you are clueless about the disease and you think it can be helped by 'positive thinking' and 'behaving yourself', then please read this, and follow the links I have placed within this article.

Clinical depression is not normal sadness. We all have times when we feel sad due to situations in our life. We feel sad if things may not go our way, but we usually get up and go eventually, after the problem is solved or after we have ranted about it with a friend. It may be harder, if someone in our life dies, but eventually, maybe years after, it gets easier. If we grew up abused, or witnessed too much of war and death, like troops returning from war often do, we might get depressed too. If you are a woman you probably have felt down before, maybe before your period (chocolate then suddenly seems to help), or after you have given birth. Or maybe you have a thyroid dysfunction. But all these illnesses are not the same as clinical depression.

There are other illnesses that exhibit similar traits to clinical depression. For example: eating disorders, alcoholism, drug abuse.

There are also other two other depressive disorders that are not exactly the same as major depressive disorder, such as, manic-depression (also known as bipolar disorder) and dysthymia.

I am being sweeping about these other illnesses because I want to focus on what I have, which is mainly moderate to severe major depressive disorder, coupled with generalised anxiety disorder.

If you suspect you might be depressed - maybe you really identify with what I write here, or you have been feeling sad or stressed for a long time now, or like I have just written, you feel your sadness is not normal sadness; or maybe you just want to make sure you have a clean bill of mental health. Please take this test now. (Remember this is not a medical diagnostic tool and you should still check with your medical professional if you would like a definitive assessment and treatment.)

In my next few posts, I will cover other aspects of my sickness, such as symptoms used by doctors to diagnose patients, or symptoms you may feel you are depressed like me. I will also write about medication.

the world of the undead

As I open up my cocoon, and share my story with more and more people around me, it turns out that I know at least, by now, more than five people who are also likely suffering from emotional illnesses like mine.

It feels like I raised my hand in class to say, "It was me, I did it," and suddenly hands are raised all over the class, to join me in as if to say, "If she did it, I did it too," or "I was right there with her, we did it together," or "It wasn't just her idea."

Or that I rose from the dead in the cemetery, and suddenly I realise, I was not the only undead around - the cemetery was filled with the becoming of zombies.

More and more undead are being raised from the grave.

Maybe your life-force is hugely dependent on medical help, like I am.

Maybe you don't even know you have symptoms of clinical depression but you know you are just not happy.

Maybe your body is reacting crazily to the stresses around you that are beyond your control.

Maybe you just rather die, than live, no matter how people say that is the wimpish way out.

Let us die or let us live. Being in-between life and death, being undead, it really sucks I know.

Best thing is, I can now say, I have been there. Because I am on the mend. I am starting to feel happy. Almost everyday. Life sucks, but I am actually happy.

It can happen for you too.

uh oh poor doctor

So the reporters flooded Johor Specialist Hospital after I tomorrow-ed myself regarding G's mother's case. Apparently this story was featured today in one of the newspapers in Malaysia.

The hospital is now threatening to suspend the attending surgeon for G's mom. The doctor called G to apologise, and then called my Dad to apologise, and to ask him to tell me to take down my article from the internet.

If they do suspend that doctor, the management probably has to suspend themselves too. A problem like this should not have to be one doctor's fault, but really it is about the basic management infrastructure of the organisation, in this case, a hospital. The workflows and SOPs are seriously flawed for such mistakes to have happened.

By the way, G's mom's operation was a success, finally. At least she didn't die. We shouldn't have to wait for another wrongful death for JSH to wake up their idea.

Even the shadow of you is driving me insane.

finding the right spot on the continuum

A virtually impossible task - finding the balance between extremes. Reality hardly exists for me, because I create my illusion of it, or I break down and out from it.

Will I have enough resources to last till I find my place?

So I have to finish the race with a lit torch, I don't have to finish first. I just have to finish it with the torch in my hand, still alight.

I hope I make it.

empathy

One question my doctor asked me the first time I visited him, was this:

"Do you find that you empathise with people very easily, like you feel you can understand whatever they are going through?"

I said yes. Be it in the form of my Weltschmerz, or when friends confide in me, or when virtual strangers choose me to share their painful secrets with, I somehow manage to know how they feel.

Apparently, people who suffer from clinical depression are high on empathy, which technically means "identification with and understanding of another's situation, feelings, and motives."

I guess when we want to love people, help others, make life better for those in ours, we need to score high on empathy. I think this will forever be a 'good' trait of mine. Empathy.

Maybe thats why Daffy calls me a 'natural Aunt Agony'. Maybe that's why I tend to build genuine relationships with my clients, colleagues or contemporaries. Maybe that is why my words can make people cry. Maybe that's why people fall in love with me.

If you are depressed too, I hope you may eventually realise too, that empathy is a good by-product of our sickness, a blessing in disguise.

LOL@ Johor Specialist Hospital

My parents brought me this story from across the causeway:

Their friend, whom we shall call G, had to admit his mother into Johor Specialist Hospital (JSH) for a major operation to her knees for acute arthritis. This involved putting her under anaesthesia, which meant fasting from food and drink before the operation. The operation was due to be held on the Monday just past, and costs an estimated RM$40,000 thereabout.

To facilitate the operation, G's mother, who is about 62 years of age, checked into JSH on Sunday night, so that her condition could be monitored while she fasted.

On Monday morning, the anaesthetist administered general anaesthesia and G's mother was wheeled into the operation theatre.

The operation was however, called off before she entered the OT.

"Sorry, the surgical knife has not yet arrived from Kuala Lumpur."

Yeah, that's a real deal-breaker ain't it. So the whole family took leave from work on Monday, was prepared to pay astronomical amounts for the surgery - forty grand IS a lot - and G's mother had to endure fasting and anaesthesia for the sake of... nothing.

The operation is due to be held tomorrow. Let's hope they don't run out of, say, oxygen, halfway through the surgery. Or the wrong knives were sent over from KL or similar.

This is not the first lol@JSH that has occurred. Three years back, my Dad's friend, who is younger than me, met with a motorcycle accident. He went into a coma, suffering a major blood clot in his brain at the back of his head.

He was admitted to JSH, warded in the ICU for three nights. Subsequently, he died.

They did nothing during this period of time, really. Just left the blood in the brain; no drilling was done to clear the clot, nothing.

So, he died. And the family was billed RM$16,000 for the three nights of ICU.

one year from now

According to Dr. K's diagnosis of me I should be off medication in a year's time, even though I have been depressed for 'a long time' - his words.

In one year from now, I will be 30.

I would have sorted out my plans to go to an Indochinese country for a mid-term stay, three to six months long thereabout, not including reconnaissance trips there before that.

According to my doctor, for me to be 'rooted in reality' I have to prove, or disprove, the relevant core skills and strengths that I have. So that when people tell me, "You are so talented, E!" or "E is very good at (insert task/activity/ability)," I no longer feel traumatised by their perceived value of me. Yes, I hate it whenever anyone praises me for being good at something, for having a lot of potential, for being talented - because I truly, truly, feel I am not. The thing is, I am 'good' at almost everything I have done with everyone. I don't know why I am 'good' at that thing with you. I am not genius like Sylvia Plath or Jackson Pollock, I just have the same sickness as they did, without talent. But people keep telling me otherwise, which stresses and upsets me, because deep down inside I feel these things people say are grossly untrue.

So, I have identified three core things I should prove that I am good at, ever the cooperative client that I am. I already know I am good in managerial-related roles. And it is what I have a B.Sc (Hons.) in - Management, with a capital M. So for that, I will stop hating every comment that comes my way telling me I am good at my job. Doctor says managerial and administrative skills are lacking badly in most NGOs, missions agencies and other aid-related organisations. This might tie in my passion for missions, in some way, down the line.

The second skill I need to prove or disprove in me, is writing. D W says "only you and Emily Dickinson deserve to be published in print, not people like me." This statement muddled me and caused tears to flow, and it only means one thing: I have to prove that I can write. I am still not sure if I am a novel writer, a short story writer, or what else. I know I can write well on this blog, but that is useless. I know I make a good copywriter for marketing communications - business-y stuff. But I am not a published writer. I need to be published to prove or disprove that I am good at writing. This skill is the scariest one to prove.

The third core thing, is my usefulness in humanitarian-related work or missions work in Asian countries. Pastor Brian says I am a very good person to have around on a mission trip (I don't know why or how, to be honest). Some people tell me I inspire them towards missions. I don't believe any of these comments whole-heartedly. When I think of humanitarian work I think of how under-qualified I am. The disparity between wanting to be involved and not being able to, tears me apart and has broken me many, many times, since I left H to run the business alone, since I left the Y because I was not gaining anything and yet losing so much. I decided that, to prove my relevance in the humanitarian industry or in missions work, I need to be more present in the countries that need help, and not just do a short mission trip a year, which was all I was doing since 2001, except for last year, where I didn't even go for any.

Hence, the reason for my plan to work and serve in (most likely) Cambodia in a year's time. This was one of the main factors why I left C: it wasn't just his lack of empathy and his abandoning me alone that led me to leave him, it was also because I knew that if I had stayed with him, I would never make this step to live in a developing country like Cambodia for half a year. And my Mom even agreed that if I could find something for her to do, she would come with me.

One year from now, I will stop crying for no reason.

One year from now, I will love life.

One year from now, I will no longer be sad.

One year from now, I will know where my strength and beauty lies.

One year from now, I can truly say, I lived my twenties with no regrets.

I just need to survive the year. Two steps forward, the occasional step back, but forwards nonetheless. Technically I have a little more than a year, because my birthday is in November. But when I am finally thirty years old, I would have re-engineered Elaine, into someone even better than I am now.

Cry with me, celebrate with me. Stay alive with me. Exciting times are ahead.

amaze me, inspire me

"You are an amazing person."

I use this phrase sparingly; when I do, I really mean it. Amazement stems from the well of a person's heart, in the form of a powerful destiny, a deep compassion, a supra normal capacity to love, a sincerity of being.

If I have told you before that you are amazing, you really are.

"You inspire me."

I haven't said that in a long time. I might have said that to H, long ago. I recently said it again. Very few people inspire me; I do not have any role models in life, except maybe, Mother Teresa, who is dead, Hillary Clinton, and maybe other famous women who made an impact on the world, like Anita Roddick, Jacqueline Novogratz, etc.

I am seldom inspired to write poetry, by a person. I am more inspired by emotions or by my infamous traffic-light moments. When a person, emotions, and traffic-lights come to a standstill in time, I end up writing one of the best poems I have ever written, (in mine eyes anyway). Paper-and-pen style, right there right then, creating editing and completing it, in the companionship of the person who inspires me.

Fuck you Charles Darwin

Screw all survival instincts, self-preservative awareness and the idea of natural selection.

Like what I told my Dad once when he cut me deep with his words: "Scan my brain and I will show you that what I have is a sickness, not a choice. I have a chemical imbalance in my brain. Cut my head open and do a brain transplant with a normal person and I will give you a normal daughter! I am sorry I am sick!"

All I want to do is help change this world devoid of love, to save the starfishes beached and dry, is that so wrong... I cry with every child prostitute, murdered journalist, AIDS orphan, abused wife, unemployed slum dweller, drug addict despairing with life... I only wish I could bear their burdens and do something to help make their lives better.

I don't dig natural selection - I want to run to those that evolution will leave behind.

I only wish I had more talent, more skills, more qualifications, more strength, and health, to help me realise my deepest passion of all. So many people who were depressed changed the world. I only wish I could turn my sorrow into joy for those who need it most.

You try to help one person, just one person, that you know, in your local circle of influence - a friend, a child, a loved one. That task alone takes an almost lifetime of prayer and effort. Let alone the whole of povertised Asia - the need is that great.

Choose to be Darwinian about it, and live for yourself. Or choose to make a difference and run towards the regressed and left behind.

let me tell you about my new job, finally

It started with a freelance project.


So there I was, rehabilitating from my host of stress-related illnesses, depression and anxiety. I had left the stupid NGO, and I was on a mild lookout for another charity-related job.


It had not been easy coming to terms with things. I had made a big leap, changing industries into something more directly humanitarian. Which was what had been beckoning me so much it hurt. So I joined this NGO, working in a capacity which was perfect for me - managing resources through training, equipping workers and volunteers to serve others. It was superb, because there were many ideas, I was good at my job, and most of all, I loved my colleagues to the point they became friends.


But then I realised, it crashed the day I couldn't even get out of bed. That was when I decided I needed to take a break from the job which was a farce, a stunt to my growth, and a cul-de-sac. It was wearing me out, but not in a satisfying 'oh I work so hard' kind of way. It all sounds very clear now when I am relating about it, but at the time, I felt like I was free-floating in the galaxy, lost and pointlessly adrift. Thus began the second worst major depressive episode in my life. It was a major disappointment because I felt like I gave up so much for a promised land purportedly filled with milk and honey but upon arrival, after the la-la-la wore off, it was a barren land with retreating rivers and sinister monsters. Death basically.


But I wanted to be doing humanitarian type of work. Yet I was under-qualified (no speak Thai/Viet etc, no medical or environmental specialist knowledge, no social work degree). I wanted to be involved in a Singapore-based NGO, so I trawled the sites of Habitat for Humanity, World Vision, TOUCH, Mercy Relief, Red Cross etc. Not very many Singapore-based NGOs. Not very many positions. Those that were vacant, I applied, I got rejected. I looked at other avenues. I don't mind working for a local social service agency too, especially those involving management of projects and initiatives. I applied, I got rejected. I could do jobs related to corporate social responsibility in for-profits too, but that usually stems from corporate communications, not my specialist area of training or experience. I am a generalist.


Then one day my friend Simon sends me an instant message over MSN, asking me if I knew any freelance writers to write his company profile, among other things, for his start up business in financial services. I was free, so I did it for him for cheap, and plus since he is my friend, and I have been in the financial industry before, so I took on his assignment for some fun, cash and distraction. I told him that as long as I am free I will write his stuff. This was the freelance project that started things.


Simon loved what I did for him and he asked me to keep writing for him, which over MSN I said I will as long as I could find the time. With that plan in place, I asked him to refer me to his marketing person so I could work with her for the other publishings required, like the newsletter and the website. He asked me if I wanted to be his marketing person, because, well, he didn't have one!


My career plans were clear, I wanted a career in the charity industry. So he asked me to work for him on a contract basis till I found my job. He also needed someone to do HR, I could do that too.


What happened then was a series of events that happened so fast I can't tell for sure which came first.


Before this conversation, I did toy with the idea of bringing corporate volunteerism and cause-related marketing to his company for him. Corporate social responsibility is a win-win situation for the company as well as the beneficiary organisation. It was a fleeting thought.


I was about to say this to him on MSN, in fact I was typing this very thought out. Before I could complete it and hit 'enter', Simon's IM came in first, saying, "Actually I would like to build a socially responsible group too. It is important that we do community projects and trips. You could do that for me too."


In retrospect, I now see very clearly how Marketing, Human Resource Management and Corporate Social Responsibility are closely-knit together. CSR is great for building the company's image, and superb for the nurturing the employees well-being.


Anyway, I told Simon I would be keen, but I was sick. He said it was okay. So, here I am. Helping a friend out, doing work I love and hopefully good at, growing and learning, recovering, and having fun.

sadness

The world is one big sadness, and I am a molecule in this sadness. There are no happy things, only things that alleviate this sadness, or means to express this sadness beautifully. My passion is in alleviating sadness in other people's lives. My passion is not a happy thing, it only helps me to alleviate sadness. I ask myself to think of happy things to make myself feel better, and to be honest, I come up with nothing. Love is about alleviating the sadness in my life, preventing it. Any happiness from it neutralises the sadness and makes it better. I have the most blessed relationships in my life right now; they all make the sadness better. But there are no such things as happy things.

my earliest childhood memories

Please note that I am not here to belittle the sacrifices my parents made to have me as their daughter. They are the best parents I can have. I am doing this to help me understand my depression and anxiety so that I can save money on therapy and get myself off Xanax, (which I find myself getting resistant to, which signifies the beginning of addiction.) Earliest childhood memories probably explain a lot of things that are, now. It was used in James Frey's A Million Little Pieces regarding his inexplicable anger. It seems telling in Lionel Shriver's We Need To Talk About Kevin. So I will do the same here. Tell me if you have any advice.


I remember sadness. But I thought it was either normal or I was just being troublesome and attention seeking. I remember missing my parents so badly because they were at work and I was at home without them. I remember missing them so much that I took out photo albums and cried over my parents' pictures. My parents finally come home at say, eight in the evening, and I run to my mom crying and hugging her but she felt I was being childish. I was never allowed to cry because crying was wrong. The first time I cried guilt-free in front of my parents was when I was seventeen years old.

I remember simply not feeling like playing with my neighbours one day; I locked them out of my house and refused to answer while they kept calling me to let them in as was our usual afternoon playtime tradition. My maid asked me why and I just told her not to let them in. I shut my room windows so they wouldn't see me.

I remember once in kindergarten I was really happy that my mom stayed home from work because I was ill. It was one of the best afternoons of my life then.

I remember not being able to sleep. I faked sleep. I forced sleep. I stared into darkness for the longest time, imagining I was climbing my cupboard or flying in space. I stared, awake. It felt like an hour like this, every night.

I remember my dad and mom locking me in the bathroom once because I was disobedient. That was my most horrific punishment as a child. Worse than the time they threw me out of the house when I was ten.

These are my earliest memories. Sadness is normal. Happiness is an anomaly. Joy is a blessing. Laughter is a relief. Sadness is my norm.