BY MELEK CANSU PETEK (ELIT/III)
petek@ug.bilkent.edu.tr
The world is falling apart. That’s one thing I’m reminded of on a daily basis after reading the news. It’s harder to know whom to trust, and I know that I’m not the only one who feels that way. Depression closes in on us from all around, lives grow tired, and souls grow weary. It feels almost impossible to breathe sometimes, and then we wonder: What to do?
I can’t answer this question for you, but I can talk about the path I followed. My first reaction to everything that was happening in and around me was despair. I won’t blame my depressed state of mind on the bad news alone—certainly there were many personal reasons involved as well—but the fallen state of the world definitely didn’t improve my spirits. After living in despair as long as I could bear it, experiencing the extreme levels of societal brokenness and my own powerlessness, I realized that there were only two options before me. One was to give up on life, on everyone and everything I held dear—and I’m not even referring to suicide here. It’s rather the acceptance of depression to such an extent that it becomes your manner of living. Needless to say, that was the easier option. I didn’t have the energy to get out of bed, and shed so many tears every day that I felt completely dry. I thought that was it, and that my life was going to be a complete waste of oxygen from then on.
The other option was to cling to life, which I couldn’t do. How could I possibly do that when I was falling apart along with the world? After living what I would call a “shell existence” for many days, one little incident brought me back to life: the laughter of an eighteen-month-old girl. It happened while I was playing with the little daughter of a dear friend, when I realized that I had the power of making her laugh and run around happily. Her laughter answered my deepest struggle, and I thought that even if the only thing I ever did was make her laugh, my life was still worth living. It was the first time I had felt very much alive, after feeling like a shell for so many weeks.
Then I decided to live instead of merely existing, and for me there was only one way of doing that: desperately seeking beauty as a reaction to the ugliness of everything around me. It was hard to find that beauty at first, but I kept moving forward because I hated the idea of going back down into the pit. Knowing that I had friends who would support me even in my lowest moments—people who refused to give up on me even when I was inclined to do so myself, people who sent me encouraging notes and gave me hugs whenever I looked destitute—helped me climb out of that pit. And slowly, the beauty and contentment my heart was longing for started to flow through the caverns of my soul. First, it was the joy of playing with a cute little girl and making her all giggly. Then it was celebrating the life and birthday of a person I consider to be my older brother. I had the courage to join a large dinner party and made new acquaintances there. Since I’m an introvert, I wasn’t a very active participant in the conversations, but seeing the beautiful hearts of the people around me was a humbling and uplifting experience at the same time.
As my eyes started to open, I was made aware of the beauty of creation again. Whenever your heart needs a bit of encouragement, watch for the dusk and the dawn. Even in a gray place like Ankara, you’ll be mesmerized by the colors at dusk. A layer of dark blue and a layer of pastel pink, topped by the silky white skin of the full moon. Moments like that may not have the power to turn life upside down, but they can give you a new perspective, and sometimes that’s all we need. Moments like that are the times I feel closest to God as well, and I understand why He’s referred to as “the shepherd” in pastoral poems. My soul needs guidance to see the beauty, and He is there to lead me, to protect me from my own self-destructive thoughts.
I know I blurted out a whole lot of words again instead of writing an intelligent and sophisticated column, but they say, “Write what you know.” I don’t claim to know anything that is worth sharing with you, so I changed that phrase to “Write what you live.” After suffering from depression and panic attacks for many weeks and coming pretty close to abandoning all that made me human, there is only one thing I feel the need to share with you: Do not ever give up on yourself. Your life is worth living.