RIP Elaine…

In the early hours of the 27 October 2005 our wonderful friend and colleague Elaine Chow committed suicide in-front of her friends by stepping off the side of a building.

Elaine was a wonderful, vibrant young woman, who brought joy to everyone she met. Her smile could, would and still does brighten both the sunniest and dreariest of days.

Thankfully we all have many memories of Elaine, when I asked her if she’d like to turn her internship at bc into a paid job. She replied, amidst a beaming smile and joyful disbelief “You mean, you want to pay me to eat…” The memory of her beaming smiling face of disbelief as she replied still brings a big smile to my face and a warm glow to my heart – even amidst the agony and pain of the anniversary of her suicide.

It’s been thirteen years since Elaine jumped… I still feel as if I’m running down Jaffe Road. My heart breaks every time my mind replays the screams erupting from my phone, looking up disbelievingly and seeing Elaine falling – so fast, yet in slow motion – towards me.

My brain cannot process the truth of what it sees and my legs will never be moving fast enough to reach and try to catch her… The pain of those images has not faded at all, but nor thankfully have the memories of her smile and the joy she infused to all around her.

RIP Elaine you are deeply deeply missed. You may be gone, but you are never forgotten! You are in our hearts every minute of every day.

Elaine Chow: 14 March, 1986 – 27 October, 2005

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According to government statistics Hong Kong’s suicide rate has fallen slightly over the last few years but still an average of 2.5 people a day commit suicide in Hong Kong.

The World Health Organisation thinks that attempted suicides are 20, yes twenty, times more frequent than completed suicides. That’s 50 people a day in Hong Kong who attempt to commit suicide! 

If you’re thinking of suicide, talk to someone… There is no shame or loss of face in admitting that you need help.
Suicide Prevention Services  2382-0000 www.sps.org.hk
Samaritans Hong Kong: 2896-0000 www.samaritans.org.hk

Ellen Joyce Loo 1986-2018 – RIP

Folktronica and cantopop singer Ellen Joyce Loo who initially found fame and success as part of the band at17 and later as a solo artist was found dead today in Happy Valley.

Sadly it appears the 32 year old singer known for her upbeat and optimistic songs about female and LGBT issues committed suicide.

Loo was born in Toronto and moved to Hong Kong when she was four. In 2001 at the age of 15, she co-formed the popular band, at17, with Eman Lam Yee-man. The critically acclaimed and popular band split in 2010 with Loo releasing several successful albums as a solo artist.

Thank you Ellen for your music, you’ll be sadly missed.

I Know What I Want to Live For, and I Refuse to Get in the Way of Myself!

Unmasked is a stunning, raw, emotive spoken word poem on the subject of depression by Gari De Ramos. bc magazine’s Hannah Ridley spoke to the author about her own fight with depression and the creation of Unmasked.
Read the poem here

What inspired you to create this piece?
Before I actually answer this question, I must explain that I created Unmasked as my MYP Personal Project. Creating a poem was actually not my original intention, I instead wanted to collate several honest and uncensored interviews with anonymous Hong Kong adolescents about their struggle with depression. The goal was to instill sympathy, if not empathy, to those unfamiliar with depression, anxiety, and suicidal behaviour.

When the project began over a year ago, it was very common for things such as depression to be treated like a joke. It was – and for some, still is – seen as something they can use as hyperbole. Hearing phrases such as “Oh my god, they ran out of forks. I’m so depressed right now” or “If I get a five on this assessment I’m going to kill myself” was a common thing which irked me so much. I also had an ask.fm account where people knew I was depressed and would say things such as “but you’re so fortunate and have good grades and friends, how can you be depressed?”. The mental illness I was battling with was being incredibly misunderstood by so many around me, it was clear to me that it needed explaining. I needed to unmask depression.

I created this piece because I hope the following things:

  • I hope that it is a more effective way of talking about depression, unlike the many ways it is danced around in school.
  • I hope to educate.
  • I hope to inspire.

Do you believe your poem did any justice/impacted all of the people you interviewed?
I definitely think that those I interviewed have been impacted in doing so, but possibly in different ways. For a handful of interviewees, it was the first time they had been able to comfortably let out EVERYTHING that was on their mind. They told me immediately afterwards that being interviewed gave them an immense sense of relief – an sensation rarely felt when battling depression and/or anxiety. Whether or not this was case for everyone, I believe I can safely say that each person I interviewed was able to learn more about themselves, since it was such an introspective experience, and that they are now slightly more comfortable with opening up to others.

In regards to doing my interviewees justice, I believe I do enough. When I describe depression in “stanzas” 11-16, I am quoting those I interviewed; I am using their words. I, myself, have never carved the word worthless into my body, nor have have I ever exercised to the point where I would faint, but real people have. I think I did just enough justice to them since I was able to incorporate most of what they had to say, but I will never truly be satisfied until I have the ability to publish the transcripts of our interviews into the general public. I believe that one person speaking for so many can never encapsulate each person’s story holistically and in every detail. Each person has their own story and it should be told by them, but I did what I could to speak for them all, and I believe that is enough.

Were there any emotional/mental struggles that you faced during the creation of this piece?
Interesting question. At the beginning of the process, I was still depressed, experiencing anxiety attacks, and having bouts of suicidal behaviour. But as the research and interviewing stages progressed, the more I noticed I was making a difference. Creating this piece gave me something to be passionate about, which is ultimately a large part in my recovery. As I do mention in the poem, however, I relapsed. I was suicidal and I didn’t see the point in what I was doing, but fortunately at this point, I had come to differentiate the healthy voice in my head from the unhealthy voice. I knew what I was thinking was untrue, and I recognised I had the strength to change it. I doubt I would have been able to reach this point of self-awareness if it were not for the insane amount of self-reflection and somewhat philosophical introspection that came with the writing process.

Has the creation of this piece benefitted you in any way?
Like I said, it was a huge part of my recovery. Of course it is not the sole way I recovered (recovery is a long-ass process with many different variables involved), but it gave me a sense of closure. I was able to learn a lot about myself as I describe in stanzas “These scars don’t make me me” to “I am the only thing I will have in my life permanently” [you can change these to the stanza numbers]. Those stanzas speak for themselves. Although it sounds pretentious, creating this piece made me wiser since project like this requires you to think not just about what you have gone through, but also how that has impacted you. I also discovered the enlightening sense of fulfilment I get from being able to help others and contribute to something more than myself.

Do you believe that creating this piece has changed your mental wellbeing in any way?
As I said it helped me cope and gave me closure. I now recognise when I’m sad or happy or doubting myself. I’ve gotten into the habit of double checking the things I say to myself. Is my negative thinking justified? What can I change about me or my environment to change this? Thankfully it hasn’t returned to the point where I think it is actually justified, or there’s nothing I can do. This is all because I was able to reflect deeply enough, that I was able to realise I actually do know when I’m being irrational.

What do you hope readers will get out of reading or listening to your poem?
With Unmasked, I hope to influence three types of people.
1) People who have no experience or sympathy to those suffering with depression, anxiety, and/or suicidal behaviour,
2) those who are suffering from the aforementioned shitty things,
3) those who have been able to overcome it.

For the first type of reader, I hope they gain a better understanding of what someone with depression goes through, and possibly even heighten their emotional intelligence and empathy. I hope that they don’t view people with mental illness as weak or that depression is something that should easily be overcome. This is important because usually a person’s support system consists of people who haven’t gone through the same kind of emotion, and you need to understand an experience of a person in order to support them.

For those who are currently treading the waters of their mental illness, I hope they find the motivation to keep fighting and that they know they’re not alone.

For everyone, I hope they recognise the honesty, heart, and soul of everyone involved. Everything goes wrong when your brain isn’t functioning healthily. I can safely say that living with and overcoming depression is the most difficult thing I, and many others, have ever had to do, and one of the things I am most proud of overcoming. If a reader can take away this message and develop their sense of empathy, then I would have succeeded.

Has expressing yourself in this way changed you as a person?
Self-expression through writing is not something foreign to me. It hasn’t changed me, it’s who I am and how I do things.

Outside of your personal experiences, how did you learn more about the effects of depression?
As mentioned in the poem, I interviewed 10 Hong Kong teenagers who suffer or have suffered with depression, anxiety, and/or suicidal behaviour (as well as myself). I told everyone I knew about my project and that I needed people to interview, as well as posting about it on my social media. I think an interesting thing about my interviewees is that all the females volunteered, whereas the males needed a little push, which clearly says something about the stigma of men and mental health. Besides the interviews, I did extensive research on the science behind mental illness, as well as frequently met with my school counsellor about mental health issues, particularly depression, anxiety, and suicidal tendencies, among teenagers.

If there is one thing that you could say to those who are currently diagnosed with depression, what would that be?
I think the hardest parts for someone with depression is admitting they need help and being able to get help, and to that, I would say that your mental health comes first so you do everything humanly possible to take care of yourself. I don’t know how to convince someone to live. That’s the hardest part that must be done by yourself, but building a support system will get you through it. Whether that support system be good humans or your Netflix account, find at least one thing worth making it through the day. Recovery is a step-by-step process which is different for everybody, but there is no tutorial. You do what works for you, and all I can say is I hope you find the strength within you to not only make it through this, but live a life that makes you happy, no matter how impossible that seems.

If you have suicidal thoughts don’t keep them to yourself speak to someone. The Samaritins 24hour hotline number is 2896 0000

Unmasked

Every three minutes, five people commit suicide.
By the end of this poem, 12 people would have died.

I could’ve been one of those people.

When I first heard the word “depression” I didn’t know what it meant.
Then as time passed by acquaintances turned to friends.
Day by day, side by side
Depression became the closest friend I had in my life.
Always there to tell me I messed up.
Always there to tell me my best isn’t good enough.

The weight of my failures and flaws and weaknesses
crushing me until I couldn’t breathe.
Pushing people away to see who really cares.
Loneliness haunting, trust always lacking.

My sense of self-worth has always been low.
Being the cause of disruption at home.
Staring at my reflection hating everything I see.
Realising that everything I think will end up killing me.

For me, I guess this started with family.
And when parents parted ways
I was blamed for discrepancy.
“If it weren’t for you, we could still be together”
“You’re too much like her”
“You’re the reason he hates me”

The idea of love,
a happy family,
confidence
disappeared.
But it doesn’t matter where it came from,
it matters that it stayed.

Now almost two years ago
was the first time I wanted to die.
It was also my 14th birthday.
The day had gone just fine,
spent with friends who I am now thankful to call mine
but coming home and believing that
they are worth more.
That I did not deserve them.

I lay in bed ’til 3am crying my eyes out
because I knew I couldn’t handle it.
I couldn’t handle comparing myself to them in every way shape and form.
I couldn’t handle how fragile I was and how easy I would break.
I couldn’t handle living with and being
a monster.

I wasn’t a good enough daughter,
or a good enough friend.
My looks weren’t good enough.
My grades weren’t good enough.
My brain is not good enough.

You see, what goes on inside my mind
doesn’t correspond to work with the daily grind.
Because I am a bottle of uncertainty, psychosis, and insecurity.
When picked up, I’m only destined to fall.
When shaken, everything inside me becomes a tornado,
wrecking chaos into everything I touch and feel.

I would empty my insides so small there was only room for butterflies.
Decorate my plates so it would look like I had ate.
Exercise to the point where I would faint,
simply because I listened to what the devils had to say.
Trapped in my bubble of self-consciousness,
feeling like my chest was going to explode,
like my lungs were going to collapse.

Carving the word worthless into the armature that is my body,
purposely trying to feel pain because I felt so much of it,
I felt nothing at all.

I would starve myself for days,
paint my skin with a blade,
sit alone with smoke in my lungs,
suicide consuming my brain.

And what is worse,
is that I would hate myself for it.
Hate what I had become;
drunk on my depression.
Letting it take over my life and
ruin me.

This depression is a tidal wave.
Starting small then destroying all
sanity, judgement, and hope.
Meltdowns coming in surprise floods of anxiety,
sinking in the depths of my fears and desolation.
With the only comforting feeling in the world being
staring down at the concrete, letting addiction come over me.
Seeing that I’m drowning,
but not knowing if I ever wanted to breathe.

And god damn it,
I wanted to kill myself and you were yelling about dirty dishes.
Where am I supposed to hide these thoughts of mine
for everything I feel has been stigmatized?
For too long I’ve had to keep these demons inside
my wretched mind, but now it’s best to end my time.

“I don’t want to have so much anxiety that my throat gets sore,
I forget how to walk,
and I want to destroy all that I touch.
I don’t trust my emotions because they change so much,
but I trust the insanity because it’s always been there.
I’m tired of feeling happy and sad and insane in the span of one year.
I’m tired of thinking there’s hope for me
because I’ll always come back to this.
I don’t want to live a life where I’m predisposed to feeling sadness.”

This is the part where I’m supposed to
write about recovery.
This was quite hard for me because
I was four months clean.
Not a single suicidal thought
disguised as a daydream.
I relapsed, welcomed the darkness back
into my fragile, broken soul.
But a relapse is nothing to be ashamed of. This is nothing to be ashamed of.
I made it once before and I damn sure trying again.

For all I know this is going to be a part of me.
A shadow forever following,
thoughts forever lurking
at the back of my sick mind,
but I am alive.

And these scars don’t make me, me.
I am me because of my morals,
my hopes, my dreams,
and everything in between.
But I am not going forget about this.

Through the madness that has defined two years of my life,
I am coming out stronger.
With the ability to notice others’ emotions,
more sure of my ability to survive,
aware of the shitty people,
aware of the great.
More aware of what hope looks like,
fighting with myself to find myself
and if I stumble I have people to smack me in the face
and tell I’m insane.
That I am loved and it’s okay to be sad.

Venting, movies
poetry, music,
friends, family
whatever makes you calm
do more of it.
Petty “relationships”,
familial and societal expectations,
the never-ending pressure from school
are not worth risking your sanity.
Your mental health comes first.

Doesn’t matter if it will take a week or a month or a year,
when they say it gets better
it is so hard to believe, but it’s true.
Believe me, I’d know.
I am the only thing I will have in my life permanently
so I better take damn care of myself.
If you think it’s impossible to find hope,
just know you’re not alone.

Because there are kids like me like you,
all over the world
all over the country
all over this godforsaken town.

And before you come to any conclusions
This is not just me.
This is not just my story.
This is the story of the broken, beaten, and damned.
Of the 11 students I interviewed, one including myself.

A sneak peak of all the suffering, stress, and scars
represented in one story.

This is for the kids who are too scared to try.
This is for the kids who are afraid of their own mind.
For the kids who look at themselves in the mirror
and can’t help but cry.
For the kids who wear long sleeves in the summer.
For the kids who tread the waters of their mental illness
with the weight of the world on their shoulders bringing them down
but they keep going whether they like it or not.

This is for you,
and for me.
For the parents who don’t understand,
and for the parents who do.

For Patch, August, Grace,
Luc Ly, Caitlin, Cage,
Suffocated, Eli
Band Aids & Bravery,
Dazed and Confused.

For the kids who get a little red marker on their wrist
and decide to keep drawing scars
because they think it’s funny.
For the kids who drag scissors across their arm in my science class
because they wanted to know why people cut themselves
then laugh when they don’t get it.

If you think I’m weak,
you clearly don’t understand the point of this piece.
The world is a dark place, and sometimes
it’s hard to see the sunshine
I know what I want to live for,
and I refuse to get in the way of myself.

UNMASKED, a commentary by Gari De Ramos
“I created this – whether it be for the students who didn’t think these problems were prevalent among their peers, or those with similar feelings to those in this video – with the hopes that it exposes the depth, tragedy, and complexity that many live with, to shed light on the stigma of adolescent problems, and to reach out to those struggling who remain in the dark.

I initially set out for my Personal Project, a collection of interviews I had with anonymous students and their tales of depression, to be in the form of a book. As you can see, this isn’t a book. This is a spoken word poem. I was forced to change my final product because I was not informed that I would need to have legal forms signed by my interviewees and their parents, as well as having to undergo a psychological evaluation regarding the ethics of my interviews.

Things got incredibly explicit and raw, eventually to the point where my supervisor could not read more than a page. Even if I had all the legal problems sorted, I still would have been advised to change my final product because my advisor(s) deemed the ethics behind my product to be poor. I would have had to censor my product in case it emotionally hurt my audience, gave ideas to persons in similar situations, and risked revealing the identity of the anonymous interviewees.

After all of this, I was given an extension and changed my product to this spoken word poem. It mainly tells my story, but there are glimpses of the 10 other students I interviewed.

I hope to give my viewers a deeper look into the lives of students, for we are more than just numbers and percentages. We deal with these emotions, behaviors we can’t control, and pain, on a day-to-day basis. But many people don’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation. It is also important to understand that people like me existing with you, achieving with you, striving with you. We are very much like you, we just have a little heavier baggage.

Dedicated to Patch, August, Grace, Luc Ly, Caitlin, Cage, Suffocated, Eli, Band Aids & Bravery, Dazed, and Confused.”

Read an interview with Gari De Ramos here