Posted by I’ve been in bit of pain for the past few months. A veritable hellscape of mental anguish and doubt and insecurity not intentionally of my own creation but certainly tended and maintained by my estupida cabeza. I’ve spent too much time upset and hurt, screaming at the walls of my house. 2021 overall has kinda stunk.
I’m only writing about it now because I’m feeling the fog lift. A little.
The importance of maintaining one’s mental health and getting professional assistance is being talked about more and more these days, whether online or in-person. Within the context of men and South Asians, I think it’s all the more critical to acknowledge that importance. I’m really lucky to have developed friendships with people who aren’t shy about the fact that they go to therapy and have encouraged me to seek professional assistance when they’ve seen me struggling. Even if you feel you’re doing okay, go to therapy anyway! they say.
I’m not trying to draw pity for my problems, self-inflicted or otherwise, but simply to talk about the past few months. I have not been present for some of the people I love and care about and have somehow simultaneously burdened others with the mental detritus that has been my mind.
It’s pretty outrageous the myriad and sometimes seemingly “small” blocks that can throw us off. How they snowball into something much bigger, picking up speed and engulfing all the good and positive that we have worked to build and prioritize. How they can dig up old wounds and injustices and rekindle what was once thought to be extinguished.
The Neverending Story (minus Falcor)
I don’t have any answers as to why I’m starting to feel better. Time and tide and all that? Maybe/not really. I leaned pretty heavily on a few friends and it was only when they (barely) mentioned to me that I was being one-track that I was startled enough to start to snap out of it. Sort of. Writing helps me. Kinda.
Few mental battles can ever be conclusively solved. We often have to live with harms caused and move forward from them. But when you’re mired in the muck, life feels like naught but a steady accumulation of pain and suffering. That’s not how I normally look at life and certainly not how I have tried to build mine. I do believe that Life is a beautiful thing but a beautiful life only happens through conscious, positive effort. And even then, it won’t always be a consistent upward trajectory.
It is also one thing to understand that overall, life is beautiful. It is! despite the ugliness that resides in everything and everyone. But it is quite another to feel that life is beautiful and to want to partake in that beauty.
“Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.” – Henry David Thoreau
November was reportedly Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month. It should come as no surprise that men commit suicide at rates 3-4x greater than women. Men also have higher rates of substance abuse, homicide, and lower life expectancy than women. This is not to diminish any of the struggles encountered by women, especially the many dangers and injustices perpetrated by men upon women. But I think it’s safe to say that women also benefit when men’s mental health is addressed. Men are much less likely to seek therapy, believing as society teaches us that it is for the weak. Or that we just don’t need it.
This attitude towards therapy is also prevalent among South Asian Americans. It’s a bit of a taboo subject; as if therapy is something frequented by weak-willed or ungrateful ABCD’s (American Born Confused Desis), which is why I’m writing about it. Many immigrant Desis work really hard to establish themselves and view taking care of mental health as an extraneous extravagance for which they do not have time nor, in some cases, can afford.
Arree betta, just get married!
There are those who would even suggest that one should just get married in order to solve one’s mental health troubles. It’s also not uncommon among Muslims (and other devoutly religious) to say that people should pray away their troubles. Oi vey. I can just feel the judgment and condescension coming my way simply for writing about it. {shudder} No aunty, these troubles can’t be swept under the rug like that!
But how much better would all of our lives be if previous generations had been afforded access to mental health treatment. If they had not been forced to ignore their worries and insecurities and plow through life without any assistance. And in an overall context too – if people didn’t feel the need to medicate with alcohol, opioids, and other drugs. It’s not a magic fix for the structural problems that affect most people’s lives but any help is a good help, in my opinion.
Hi! My name is Maher Hoque and I have gone to therapy
… (briefly last year). It helped. I’m planning on renewing said practice in the new year. It’s possible to say that my present bout of troubles might have abated more quickly, although not completely, if I was currently in therapy. At least, maybe, I wouldn’t have felt alone or so guilty about being fucked up in the head. Maybe I wouldn’t have burdened some friends or felt the need to avoid others.
I have done my best to build a solid (if rather solitary) life and to try to be a good man and a good friend & ally. So, what would trouble my apparently addled mind enough to require therapy? That’s betwixt me and my therapist and such a question is somewhat beside the point. It doesn’t matter the tenor or characteristics of such troubles. Just that they occur. The knowledge that others have it “worse” does not diminish what the individual in question goes through. Nor that they need to get right. Nor that they might need help.
