Hi!
October 10 was World Mental Health Day. (But Mental Health Awareness Month, apparently, is in May. Lol. How odd.) Hence, I’m reviving a relevant personal essay. This was an editorial staff pick when I first published it on Medium. After a massive edit (it’s 800 words shorter!), I’d say this is one of my personal bests so far. :)
Enjoy!
“Zoom call later?”, I asked Ashley. “Update me on your life!” It had been two months since we were locked inside our homes for what would be one of the longest national quarantines. Why I thought she might’ve had any significant life news, I really don’t know.
Before the pandemic, Ashley and I were dealing with a lot of crap in our respective workplaces.
Ashley’s office drama: She got caught in the middle of a romantic affair between two of her close colleagues – who were both partnered. Actual work-wise, she was being consistently praised by higher-ups for her performance. Then, coincidentally, her “friends” began to distance themselves from her. Even her work bestie suddenly turned a cold shoulder. One day they were enjoying mid-week drinks, and the next thing you know he couldn’t be bothered to reply to Ashley’s thoughtful birthday message.
As for me, I found myself shoved into a role way above my pay grade, which left me scrambling to save my ass whilst saving face. But what drained me most wasn’t the workload – but the condescension and criticism of certain colleagues.
Ashley and I were in Popeye’s enjoying our biscuits, laughing off our situations. These were our first corporate stints, and we couldn’t believe this kind of high-school drama still happened in the real world. But, hey, at least we got each other! We found comfort in our common ground. A space to exhale all the bullshit.
Yet, there was one thing we refused to acknowledge: We were both at the end of our ropes.
We were like those chain-smokers who seem perfectly fine from the outside. But put their chest under an X-ray and you can’t miss it: those battered, charcoal lungs. The truth is our work environment had eroded so much of our sense of self.
Not surprisingly, a few months later, we both quit our jobs. Surprisingly, not long after, COVID struck.
Being unemployed during the onset of the pandemic, I had no choice but to face the truth: I was burnt out – had been for months now. And I’d inadvertently become a shell of my former myself.
Now here’s the thing about me: I’m a very positive person. Turn that on its head and you get a person who tends to quickly dismiss negative emotions.
Naturally, I couldn’t wait to get my shit together and stop feeling like a burnt-out wreck.
“So, how can we fix your life?” I asked Ashley jokingly over Zoom. By that time, I was in a much better headspace. Thanks to a fitness coach, insane keto energy, a newfound Formula 1 obsession, my honeymoon period with writing, plus all the other creative indoor endeavors I dabbled in, I felt I was on my way back to myself again.
And I wanted that for Ashley, too. I’d been noticing her online posts: Bojack Horseman screencaps. Cynical memes (“My favorite conspiracy theory is that everything is going to be okay”). Mental health quotes. Captions composed of nothing but unhappy emojis.
She told me about a job offer that didn’t pan out. And with so much time to herself, she felt more anxious than ever about the uncertainty of it all.
I thought, what if she did what I did? I mean, my efforts didn’t just distract me, but they also helped me feel better during those tough times. (I would, however, not recommend keto, because, personally, I think life is too short not to enjoy carbs.)
So, being my normative sunshine-loving freak of a self, I hinted at ways she could make the most of her time. “What do you enjoy doing? Maybe you can try a new hobby?”
Still championing optimism, I shared with her an essay about coming out of this pandemic, as the writer wrote, “better and brighter on the other side.” The piece resonated with me, so I thought it would uplift Ashley, too.
“Is it sad that I can’t relate to that?”, she said. "I’m not functioning at all this quarantine.”
After our Zoom catch-up, we talked less. I’d check on her, but our conversations wouldn’t last long. Sometimes I’d see on Instagram that she was catching up on Zoom with our other friends. I was starting to sense that something might be wrong. Why didn’t she approach me, too?
Once, I saw her share on social media an explainer of a concept called “toxic positivity”:
Toxic positivity is the excessive and ineffective overgeneralization of a happy and optimistic state in any situation — in the denial, minimization, and invalidation of genuine human emotional experience.
I couldn’t shake the possibility: “Could that have been me?”
See, a part of me understood her anxiety. But there’s a part of me that didn’t.
The latter part, which felt more valid to me, couldn’t help but ask: If you want to overcome tough or heavy feelings, isn’t it just a matter of choice? To push yourself to get over it, and stop dwelling on whatever is weighing you down?
It was so tempting, so seemingly sensible, to fall into my own self-righteousness.
But I love Ashley. I cherished our friendship enough to open myself to what I might not be seeing: That, perhaps, positivity doesn’t deserve to be put on a pedestal. And it certainly wasn’t worth being a poor friend over.
It occurred to me that I’d discounted what she was going through. She was a shining employee having the time of her life with her colleagues — whom she genuinely trusted to have her back — until things took a sharp turn. And what jarred her most was watching her bestie turn away from her just like that.
I’m learning. That most people in pain don’t need saving — or a silver lining. That, maybe, a tender listening ear is all a person needs to inch towards wholly loving their broken self. That how someone processes their pain is exactly how they need to process their pain. That to assume that we can overcome our shadows and traumas by simply “choosing” to do so is to dilute what it means to be a living, feeling, human being.
I took Ashley’s birthday as an opportunity to apologize. I wasn’t sure if I’d been a source of toxic positivity, but I realized I could’ve supported her better. So I sent her some birthday goodies along with a letter that said:
Hi,
I feel like I haven’t been a very good friend lately. Or at least a good listener. I don’t know if this is all in my head but it’s been bothering me so I’ll just go ahead and say it. I’m sorry if I ever said things that might’ve been hard or too much on you. Or if you felt like your feelings or thoughts were being dismissed.
I think I respond or talk to you in the way that I do because we kinda went through similar phases. Like dealing with shitty people. Being treated unfairly. Or just a lot of things that weighed us down at work.
And at the start of the quarantine, I just realized a lot of things. Things I wish someone had told me or stuff I wish I was able to let go of earlier. And I thought that by sharing the feelings or my way of overcoming things, I could somehow help you move past your own difficulties.
I think it’s also because I’m just wired like this. I have a low tolerance for shitty feelings and it’s been both a blessing and a curse. But I’m not making excuses. It took a while for me to understand and acknowledge that everybody has their own pace and process when it comes to dealing with things. So I need to be more sensitive to that. And that even if I feel like I know what you’re going through, I can’t “encourage” you out of the hurt.
I’m still trying to gauge how I can be a better friend and a more compassionate listener.
If ever I do say stuff again that really isn’t helping, know that you can always tell me. Recently, I was reminded that you can’t invalidate someone for how they interpreted what you said, even if there was no harm intended. More than anything, I really want to be someone you can lean on.
So yeah sorry for the drama lol. You know I love you. I appreciate you so much for always being there for me — and for everything we’ve been through together.
And on your special day, I just want you to know how blessed I am to have you in my life. And that you deserve not just a happy birthday, but a happy every day.