Last Edited 9/4/2015
There are many compadious publications on how to crash stress or depressions, but setting rules and making self-approbation is the best.
Major causes of stress or depressions are not only when you go insolvent, fail exams, lose your job or your beloved one(s), or have heavy tasks to cover: sickness can make you feel that, and even dizzy.
When malaria attacked me, I had bad dreams and become too stressful. Someone told me he feels depressed as if he committed grievous offence to humanity.
But malaria fiver doesn’t cause stress than HIV/Aids. Some people with HIV/Aids don’t only feel depressed, but insane. Some even committed suicide.
To quit stress or depression, this technique works for me:
*.have good friend
*.discuss about success
*.go out and watch the scenario
*.make phone calls to friends and tell them something good
*.take hot bath and wear good cloths
*.talk to your pet
*.take your pet out, e.t.c.
We live in the rocks surrounded by cactus. After the death of my uncle, my father often went alone to speak close to his grave:
Your spirit is unworthy
Your witchcraft is dead
You can’t see us here
Go to the land of death
And become a vampire there.
After a month I began to follow behind my father to see what he often did. He spewed some substance like libation on my uncle’s grave.
After a few days I visited the site and saw my uncle’s grave dug (when his body wasn’t yet osseous), his skull thrown beside it and no deleterious smell.
Those days my father often complained that our people seldom reasoned to give their children good names.
‘The instances are pellucid’, he said.
My late uncle’s name, Makanan, means a person, who is inflicting diseases to people by means of witchcraft. My name, Murum, which my soho (grandpa) gave me although my father prohibited its use as my real name, means hyena. And my father’s name means cemetery.
I couldn’t understand why my father often complained about that till when I realised he was who harvested the skull of his late elder brother to calculate the number of worms inside it, and come with the theory of how many people he kananed before his death. He had inherited this sense from his father, the former king of traditionalists of our clan.
Makanan’s death came about when he tried to Kanan someone, who was powerful than him–and the person retrieve it to him and made him looked like a pellagra victim for a month before he died. During his valediction, after his corpse was laid down in his grave some people swore a dark cloud formed over the tree in his compound.
I could get exhausted with this world, I couldn’t travel to America, Europe, Asia, and others, but I could do that in a few hours, by reading Novels. Reading passages of Daniel Goldman’s ‘Working with Emotional Intelligence’ makes me feel like present in the United States of America. As I read in page 7: ‘As CEO of Wisconsin, a devout Catholic, Richard Abdoo, often uses eight hours a week for solitary reflection’, I picture my self in Wisconsin, greeting Mr Abdoo in his office. In page 170, under Empathy Distress, ‘She had been a pediatric nurse for seven years, but now she was asking for a transfer to a different service at the medical center. Why? ‘I just can’t take holding another little kid who is going to die of cancer. It’s too hard on me.” I saw the nurse handing her resignation letter to a smart Medical Director, in a wide office. When I read Mc Boland’s ‘Sky Sweeper’, I found my self, in the dark corner, watching war. In ‘I’m not Really Here’ by Tim Allen, I was inside a wardrobe, watching the narrator in his bedroom, saying:
“Who am I?”
“Why am I?”
“Where do I go from here?”
“Just where is here?”
” Can I still hear?”