Letters From Norway

“The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Norway – even though I’ve never been to the country, I feel a strange familiarity with the sound of the name. And that’s because of a Norwegian girl whom I interacted over the Internet for a couple of years.

Although the intercontinental friendship only lasted for a short period of time, her influence over the past decade of my life was immense. Here, let me share the story of us.

“Do you think we should ever meet?” said Marianne. It was her name. She was in Oslo and was fluent in both British and American English. We had been video-chatting occasionally on Google Hangouts and talked about all sorts of things: our current conditions, our family, our future plans, and our dreams.

When it comes to languages, she was gifted to learn languages and her pronunciation not only in English but also other European languages were amazingly good. She once told me she tastes languages. So to speak, she was interested in learning Japanese as well. It was her secret dream to travel all the way to Japan someday.

Once in a while, she gave me some English lessons, and actually, she was the one who fixed my pronunciation of “L” and “R” in English. For Japanese speaker’s, it’s not an easy task to differentiate the two sound.

She was smart and pretty. Every night, I was expecting her to appear online. Those days, I was in mild depression and experienced some degree of difficulty dealing with reality. So, for those obvious reasons, I was staying in my home because I wasn’t ready to get hired. These small talks with her, therefore, were my secret little pleasures in those difficult days.

Not only did we interact online, but we also exchanged paper letters as well. She was the one who started. She wrote me a letter with some Norwegian gifts inside. She said she had never sent anything to Asia until then. In turn, I sent her a parcel of Japanese goods and a letter.

And what made our friendship a little complicated was the existence of her boyfriend, Roy. Yes, she had a boyfriend. What did you expect? And yes, I admittedly had a crush on her, and it was only one-sided. I knew it. And, considering the distance between us, it never would have worked anyway…

Here let me tell you a little bit about her. She was suffering from severe depression. It was significantly due to her in-supportive family who kept demanding her dedication despite her condition. Since I never visited Norway, I never knew what she had been through those days. But it was sure that her relationship with her parents was so deteriorating that she had to stay away from her family.

And that mental condition that suffered us somewhat bonded us together. It was me who had mentioned my mental status on the social network, and she had found it. That’s how we had met, and started interacting with each other online.

Compared to mine, her condition was deteriorating. She once told me she sometimes couldn’t even move her arms so that all she could do was laying on her bed for a whole day long.

Once she wrote to me: “Thank you so much for the email. I’m in a very depressive period of my life right now but I want you to know that your concern for me really does give me comfort. Not that I’m happy that my burdens affect you in any way, but it gives me relief to know that someone out there actually gives a damn about me. I often feel very alone even though I’m surrounded by people. “

She was surrounded by people. Again, it was her family and yet there was nothing more than her always standing at their disposal. It wore her out and she would never be able to finish anything if she was to be used like that. Her psychiatrist proposed that she get her own place and live in Oslo on her own for a good while.

Once she told me she had a younger brother. And it seemed her parents always preferred him to her. When he was given a PlayStation in Christmas, she was only given a toy dragon. She said it was always like that.

She wrote: “My days need to be mine and no one else’s. Because certain things have happened these past few weeks I haven’t been able to chat with you let alone send you a letter with that long-promised Norwegian chocolate. I am never alone and yet everything somehow ends up being my responsibility…”

It was her family. She occasionally told me about her parents who somewhat don’t give a thought about their daughter. One day, her parents showed up uninvited, because she hadn’t spoken with them on the phone for days. They used a copy of the key to the house, and when she met them in the hallway, her mother started yelling her and blaming her for everything.

She wrote: “She was trying very hard to manipulate me and when I broke down in tears, she didn’t stop. She even stepped up the intensity of her rage and fury towards me.” It was all because of the piano, which they claim belonged to them, but in reality, was a gift from her grandmother to her. And they lied and pretended that they were unaware of this fact. When her boyfriend respectfully interrupted her mother in a calm and gentle manner when she was crying face down by the kitchen table he said that they should at least let her speak.

She continued. “Then my mother told him that he had no part in ‘family affairs’ admitting that she doesn’t consider him family. All that happened that night really shook me to the core”.

She said that she hasn’t been able to do anything remotely related to her studies. Her parents seemed to have no regard for her health. They didn’t care. If they did, they would encourage her to get well instead of telling her that they consider her to already be healthy despite the fact that she was diagnosed with severe depression.

One day, when we were having an online chat, out of the blue did she stop talking. Suddenly, she lost her consciousness. She was having an epileptic seizure. The next moment, her eyes and mouse were widely opened, and her tongue was hanging limply.

“ARE YOU OKAY?!!!” I screamed directing at the screen. Fortunately, she regained her consciousness soon and told me that she hasn’t had medicines those days. She was worried if she could have another epileptic seizure again when she would go back to her school. It was obvious that her condition was worsened.

But still, we kept the online chat. The more we talk, the deeper we understand each other. Our conversations were transferring from just small talk to something real. Something that touches our souls. Deeper and deeper, we were creating our own world detached fro the crazy outside world. I was not sure how she felt, but at least that’s how I perceived and enjoyed it. But at this moment, I didn’t realize how much time was left for us.

From a certain point of time, she gradually started disappearing from the online world. Her absence made me feel nervous. I was expecting her to appear online again every night.

In those days, I was studying English seriously and eventually marked a high score on the TOEIC English skill test. And I immediately messaged her that I marked the score of 900 on the test. But I didn’t get any reply.

Sometimes, we had a talk for a few consecutive days. Sometimes she never appeared online for a whole week. I don’t quite remember what day it was, but one day there was a turning point, where we stopped online video chat. Her absence was lasting longer than usual, and eventually, she was disappearing from my life.

At this point, I already started my career, enjoying interactions with my real-life friends whom I met in international events. And her presence was fading away.

But one day, out of the blue did she send me a paper letter all the way from Norway. She was devastated. And it was her family again. In the letter, she congratulated me for my success in the English test and how amazed she was. She told me she wanted to tell me how grateful she was but she couldn’t due to her condition.

After a couple of years since our last video chat, we were still connected on Twitter. But eventually, she disappeared from the platform too, and now I have no way to contact her. In the passage of time, I lost her letters…

Last but not least, let me explain how depression feels. Since I, myself, experienced depression years ago, I kinda know how it feels. One common misunderstanding of the symptom is that it’s somewhat similar to sad or down.

No, it’s not. It feels much more severe than emotions that come and go in response to life events. The symptoms of depression can last for months and even years. And it makes them difficult to carry on with their daily lives.

If you happen to have someone suffering from emotional struggle or depression, please try to listen to him/her as much as possible. Try encouraging him/her to talk about his/her feelings. It may sound unlogical, but depression itself is unlogical. By asking questions, at least you can indicate the fact that you care about him/her, providing an environment that is calm and comfortable may make him/her sufficiently relaxed to want to start a chat.

When I think about my intercontinental friendship with Marianne, I have some regrets. I should have asked her conditions. “Are you okay?” or “How are you feeling today?”

Her memories still shine in my heart, and I really hope she’s doing well in somewhere, maybe Norway.

Here some snapshots I photographed on my phone. They have no relations to the story.

Via: MedicalNewsToday, BeyondBlue