Five failed relationships and an elaborate suicide plan later, Thomas Heng finds out that life is worth living after all! Clinical Depression led him to almost jump off a building, further thoughts of which were thwarted by prolonged counselling sessions with a helpful psychiatrist
By and large I see myself as a rather ordinary person, who happens to be approaching the fifth decade of his life. Yet 17 years ago, it could have all ended by personal choice.
If you have ever been in an all-boy school environment, you would be aware that there are several categories which boys fit into: the popular valedictory types who are great at everything, the eager types who are asking endless (mostly irrelevant questions), and quiet yet friendly ones who take it all in, saying little, perhaps a bit more with their very close friends, and who are certainly rather inept at making conversation with the ladies in the neighbouring school! Needless to say, I was very much the latter, which did not serve me well when I got to the University.
My first serious relationship started early in my first year at the University. She was to me, at the time, ideal obviously, though somehow the fact that she was never chosen to be in group projects eluded me as a potential red flag. Soon after, the quarrels ensued, daily at times, and lasted for hours at their most extreme. It became evident to my classmates that I was in serious trouble, though their persuasions and ultimately resignations did not register with me. One of the predominant thoughts driving my persistence was the mistaken belief that I was to follow in my father’s footsteps: to marry my first love.
The relationship continued to spiral; the exchanges became increasingly abusive, verbally, emotionally, and ultimately physically. Still I persisted with the ideal, not wanting to be the ‘bad guy’ to call it off. The experts refer to this as a relationship of co-dependency, where basically both parties are ideally the most ill-suited for each other. I had a dear male friend L, who would listen to my story for hours on end, though it must have worn him out at times.
In my third year of university (and the relationship) I was reduced to walking back home from her place, assuring (most unsuccessfully, I am sure) my parents that the black eye I nursed was from a fall. Days later, I found myself alternating between the twelfth story of an apartment building, and the top of an overhead bridge, wondering which would be a better scenario for me to end it all. Eventually I hatched an elaborate plan, and was to implement it the next day. Somehow a third thought came to my mind, to share this with someone anonymously (I was not in the frame of mind to call L, let alone a hotline number).
The general practitioner I spoke with the next day referred me to a psychiatrist, who diagnosed me as being clinically depressed. The recovery progressed unsteadily, no thanks to my reluctance to end the dysfunctional relationship. It did not help that she was in denial, and insisted that I was the one with ‘the problem’.
Things came to a head when we had a huge fight a month before her birthday, and did not speak to each other for weeks. I had booked four tickets to a cruise, in the naïve belief that I would be able to find two more people to accompany us, and somehow ease the tensions. As the day for the cruise approached, I felt that it would make no sense to go on the cruise alone, so I invited L. On the day of the cruise, while L and I were on the way to the ferry terminal, she called and demanded that we fetch her from her place. That was when I lost my cool and broke up with her, which might have provided some entertainment to the passers-by! It was cathartic, though I must admit that I lapsed into her arms a few months later. It was different though; I was a different person by then, and it ended for good in 2000.
What helped a few weeks later was that I asked out someone whom I had met online a year ago, and she accepted. This was to be the start of an odyssey of sorts, though the second relationship ultimately ended in heartbreak too. That’s a story for another time though. Three relationships later, I found the love of my life, though it would probably be just as accurate to say that she found me!
The thing is, cliché as it may seem, life is worth living. The Universe is waiting to provide everything that we hope for, so long as we are ready for it at the deepest level of our being. To me, that means being able to love and accept myself for who I am, regardless of the circumstances. When I am ready to love and accept myself, whether I am single or otherwise, the Universe will provide exactly what I need. I wish the same for each and every one of you. Blessed be, always!
