MENTAL health has been in the news lately because of the recent statistics on number of suicides in the first half of 2021, which reflects the oft-overlooked (but clearly warned by experts at the start of the lockdowns last year) aspect of the pandemic: the psychological toll of Covid-19 in correlation to the economic collapse (leading to job losses and loss of incomes) and social isolation that subsequent lockdowns begat.

These two factors have an effect on a person’s sense of self-worth and place in society as much as the loss of ability to financially support his or herself, or family.

Some may even point to a certain sense of existential dread at the inherent hopelessness of the society because of the obvious lack of political will and the revelation of an unspoken (but obviously lived) class inequality that is laid bare when the going gets tough for everyone.

I was 20 years old when I was diagnosed with clinical depression. As a youth in the 1990s and all that, all I can say (and am willing to share here) is that I had always had an overwhelming sense of sadness within me that I couldn’t explain leading up to my diagnosis.

However, this made good poetry, as Filipino rebel filmmaker Lav Diaz quipped “...because there is sadness, there is poetry.”

Yet, there was guilt too. These two emotions are probably the central emotions that someone going through a clinical depression may fluctuate between.

As for me, the sadness was somewhat, ironically, a comforting presence in my teens (a typical hormonal biological response of “growing up” as they say) so I just shrugged it off, as we are often told.

Yet, I felt something askew when these feelings didn’t dissipate – they did not politely graduate as I approached my 20s – but in fact grew stronger and deeper that it was hard to describe.

It was omnipresent yet invisible at the same time. Being creative is productive therapy and I found that outlet in music and film.

The guilt also stemmed from the fact that I had loving parents and had a relatively comfortable upbringing but was aware of my privilege because I had friends and family friends from all walks of life and social classes.

I was also aware of the omnipresent debts that awaited most of us for the rest of our adulthood (“financial freedom” is a false notion – one is often born into that “freedom”). 

It was this hyper-awareness that weighed heavily on me – a form of self-flagellation because my parents never once espoused those middle-class ideologies upon myself and were in fact very tolerant of their rather wayward son.

They thought my self-disposition was also because of my creative nature, the common art and depression equation, the “tortured artist” model.

Looking back, a lot of the ideologies heaped on me came from the outside: peers, school, the news, films, television, religion, advertisements, nosey politicians.

Mind you, being the late 1990s a couple years before the turn of the millennium and Y2K mass hysteria, it was easier for the powers-that-be to control the narrative of Malaysian society with only the mainstream media at their disposal and that everyone pretty much consumed the same things in those media.

It was easier to disseminate one idea and make it seem like the only valid idea. Then of course came the 1997-1998 economic crisis and the Reformasi age (the same period I was diagnosed overseas). 

So, the question I asked myself was: did I really suffer from clinical depression or was it just a form of existential dread? Maybe the answer is not so clear cut and binary – what is “happiness” anyway?

The further up the social and economic class, that definition becomes more vague and the need for material accumulation to achieve “happiness” becomes even more contentious.

You see it in the television dramas your mother or mother-in-law is hooked on: rich people are inherently unhappy and backstab each other. It’s a good fantasy to milk from.

As Evan Dando, the heartthrob (and then-junkie) front man of ‘90s alternative rock band The Lemonheads once quipped: “You should be happy for a reason.”

I realised the medication I was prescribed made me feel giddy and happy for no reason.

I also noticed that the stationery in the psychiatrist’s office was all branded according to my medication and when the doctor asked me to try another medication, the stationery also changed.

Then I came to realise the medical world is also a big business of ‘Big Pharma’ hegemonies. I was able to take the risk to decide to stop being a guinea pig and I dealt with it on my own but being more upfront and honest with those around me about my condition and “coming out” about my mental health.

Helping others is also therapeutic: I’m a volunteer “mental health first-aider” at my university although a bigger task is making sure students are comfortable enough to open up and come forward in times of distress and keeping lines of communication open.

This must also be done with close co-operation with the university student services departments wherever you are.

Judging by the still miniscule size of such avenues (which is still dependent on volunteers not on-site mental health professionals), we’re still taking baby steps but at least it’s a start. Nationally we have a long way to go.

I was fortunate – not only that my family and friends were empathetic and accepting in their own ways – but also that my condition was not as critical as initially diagnosed, although I still have to “manage” it and this “managing” is a big part of my vocations in the creative arts and as an academic with youths under my watch which also define who I am today and my role as a “useful” member of society.

I was also lucky because the era I discovered my place in this world was a relatively stable one – save for the September 9/11 event in 2001, which invariably changed the world. 

Now I see the reason why, for everything happens for a reason – in preparation for whatever that was up around the corner and here we are at that convergence, confronting that big obstacle together.

While mental health needs more attention and political will (not just awareness and statistics) to be dealt with – notably compassion and care – those of us who are able and in a relatively better place than others (mentally and class-wise) need to pull in our weight with whatever faculties we have at our disposal.

In this light, we may take this pandemic as a silver lining of sorts – while the diagnosis is grave, we also need to manage our expectations forged in the simpler times of the “old normal” to make realistic assessments of our current quandary. – July 9, 2021.

* Azmyl Yunor is a touring underground recording artiste, and an academic in media and cultural studies. He has published articles on pop culture, subcultures and Malaysian cultural politics. He adheres to the three-chords-and-the-truth school of songwriting, and Woody Guthrie’s maxim “All you can write is what you see”. He is @azmyl on Twitter.

* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.