Category : Diary/Journal

Sub Category : N/A

The year was 2000. I arrived at the office that morning feeling weary to the bone for I had just finished the last shoot of three back to back jobs just the day before. After spending two months of intense preparation for the jobs - swamped with all the necessary paperwork, the endless meetings with clients, advertising agencies and internal meetings with the production team, the long hours of brainstorming, weeks of casting and talent selecting, pulling 16 to 18 hours daily with no chance of break not even on weekends or public holidays.... my brain was toast. And that was just the preparation part. Then spending a whole month after that, traveling to various locations and actually shooting the 9 commercials.... by the time my head hit the pillow in the hotel room each night, I was dead to the world. Three whole months of mental and physical workout with no break in between, I think even Superman would put up his hands in surrender. But that was my world. A world where I was dictated by deadlines. A world where you have to bring your 'A game' each day even when you are sick and not a hundred percent. "The show must go on." - that was my world.

That fateful day, I arrived at work at my usual time; eight in the morning. I walked into my office, saw a bunch of messages on my desk written on post-it paper that was left for me by my immediate boss. I read them over and then headed to the office kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. I can already see that it was going to be another long day and the only way I was going to be able to survive that day was by making sure I get enough supply of my caffeine fix. Lots of it. Not one to procrastinate, I went straight to work after I took my first sip of that magical black brew. That one sip was enough to kick start my sleepy brain for when that warm black liquid traveled through my veins, I could literally feel each part of my body come alive. I dove right into work as I took mini intervals here and there to sip the magic potion.

At around ten o'clock, the owner of the company buzzed me and told me to come up to his office. Thinking he was going to give me a job brief for another job, I grabbed my notebook and pen and made my way up to his office. 

Jemima Films was operating in an old colonial double storey bungalow house. It was one of those old houses that was built during the British invasion. It had a trapdoor underneath the staircase that led to an underground tunnel, which had been sealed after the British left. The building holds a lot of gruesome history and yes, it was haunted. There are so many cold spots in the building and a few of us have personally experienced real encounters with some lost and unrestful spirits there. As I climbed the stairs to go to the owner's office, I felt a cold chill enveloping me followed by the sound of ringing bell from an anklet. "Not today," I muttered quietly, "I'm tired and not in the mood." As soon as I said that, the sound of the ringing bell stopped and I continued ascending the stairs.

When I reached his door, I gave it a knock and pushed the door open. As I stepped inside his office, I expected to see him seated at his desk waiting for me but he wasn't there. I then heard the door slam behind me and the sound of the door being locked. I turned around but before I could say or do anything, he came charging at me. He pushed me against his desk, pinned himself on top of me and kissed me aggressively. I was shocked and stunned but I was also quick to react. I pushed him but he only pushed back, pinning me harder against his desk. He had suddenly turned into a human octopus. His hands were everywhere on my body. I tried to scream but he blew off my plan by putting his mouth on mine. I scared but I was more disgusted by his behavior. I fought hard to break free from his hold and somewhere in that struggle, I managed to break free one hand and I slapped him hard. 

"Get off of me, asshole!" I hissed, looking him dead in the eye. I don't know if it was the tone of my voice or the look he saw in my eye, he backed off. He walked over to sit at his desk while I straightened my clothes. I was shaking with anger. "Why did you want to see me?" I asked. The scared part of me was ready to run and flee but the professional part of me remained calm and collected.

"You shouldn't have pushed me away like you did," he said, "big mistake." 

I was seething in anger but I stayed calm. I watched his face and I could see his lips moving but I was too angry yo hear what he was saying. For a very brief moment it felt like a scene from a silent movie until..... "So here's what we're going to do. I won't sack you but I want you to resign immediately."

For the second time that morning, I was stunned and shocked. "Fine!" I said, and walked out of his office.

I don't remember making my way down the staircase or walking pass his secretary's office at the bottom of the stairs or even walking back into the Production room and into my office. I was in a daze. My pride and dignity made me type my resignation letter. 

I typed.... "Dear Sir, as per your demand, this is my resignation letter." and signed it. 

I made sure I made copies of the letter. One was to his son; who was the heir to his throne, one was to my immediate boss, and another copy to the head of my department. I hand delivered those letters respectively and then I packed my things. The head of my department and my immediate boss were not happy to read my letter. I was at the peak of my career so for me to resign out of the blue like that didn't make any sense to them. They were shocked and wanted an explanation from me but I refused to say anything. I had shed blood, sweat and tears for that company but was asked to leave just because the owner couldn't keep his prick in his pants and I had flat out rejected him. I was done. When I walked out the door, I walked with my head held high.

I spent the rest of the day at home in a daze. I was numb. But when I woke up the next morning, that was when shit hit me. That was when it all sank in. People say that misery loves company and boy, did I learn that the hard way. In the days that followed, it didn't take long for me to spiral down that black hole into the abyss of darkness and despair. I learned that depression is not sadness but an undescribable feeling of mixed emotions brimmed to the extremes. I tried to will myself out of it but I couldn't. It felt impossible to see any light at the end of the tunnel when I was in the storm. All I could do was wait for the chaos to pass, salvage what I can from the wreckage, cling to hope like as though it were a life raft, and trust that if I can just stay afloat long enough, I will survive and live to see a brighter day. However, when you are drowning, one of the hardest thing is to believe that another reality exists. Harsh judgments and coldness exacerbate the sensation of isolation just as love, warmth, support, empathy, genuine compassion, true kindness and real understanding can lighten the weight and act as an anchor for me who felt as if I was trapped in the depths of despair.

I had days when everything became too much to the point that I wasn't able to communicate or express myself in the same way that I usually would. But not many people can understand that not all wounds are outwardly visible. And so, I was faced to deal with my depression on my own. I refused to pay some stranger a chunk load of money for me to sit on his couch to talk about what's troubling me and I sure as hell wasn't going to pop some pills just to numb the pain. I chose to ride it out on my own and it was one hell of a trip! I lost a total of 32lbs in the first two and a half weeks and by the time I managed to crawl out of that black hole, I was literally skin and bones. A walking zombie, battered and bruised with wounds that were not outwardly visible. I spent many months in that hole of hell. But at the end of it, I came out victorious. That's all that matters.