Why Did This Library Was Created In The First Place

Section 2: Mental Illnesses History

IGCSE Mental Illnesses History

I studied my IGCSE in Muscat International School (MIS), where the school is located in Muscat, Oman.

During IGCSE, I had developed what people called as maladaptive daydreaming. You can think of like obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), but your compulsions are in a form of daydreaming. This term didn’t really have much scientific backing back then, and so the most closest diagnosis you can get is the obsessive-compulsive disorder.

My maladaptive daydreaming wasn’t that intrusive back then and didn’t really impact my grades, so I thought this would go away on its own. In here, I would listen to my music through my headphones, pace around inside my bedroom and jump on my bed for hours as I talk to characters in my extreme imagination. Nevertheless, I still had high grades where I mostly get A except for English (where the teacher did a poor job of doing her job in teaching).

A-Levels Mental Illnesses History

I studied my A-levels in International Islamic School Of Malaysia (IISM), where the school is located in Selangor, Malaysia. The hostel I was staying in was a part of International Islamic University Of Malaysia (IIUM). The school was offering 1.5 years A-levels program instead of the usual 2 years program. I had enrolled to this school around 2018.

When I moved back to Malaysia and away from my family to study A-levels in a boarding school, this is where my maladaptive daydreaming get worsened.

Within a 2-3 months from starting A-level classes, I started to notice that my maladaptive daydreaming ritual would lead to me getting only 2 to 3 hours of sleep between the school days. My parents are unaware of this.

At that point, I was completely addicted to daydreaming and have started to impact my A-level’s class performance. As a result, I have different sources of stress compounding with each other:

The stress from procrastinating of my A-level study as a result of maladaptive daydreaming.
The stress from being addicted to my maladaptive daydreaming as a result of suddenly-interrupted daydreaming rituals.
The stress from unable to pay attention in my A-level classes due to sleep deprivation.
The stress from worrying due to my poor A-level performance.

I was pretty early to notice this snowballing effect of stress, and so I told my parents that I needed medication for mental illness treatment for the first time. Guess what I get from my father’s answer?

It ranges from “You’re homesick”, “You don’t exercise enough”, “You need white-noise” and “Don’t diagnose yourself”. You know what are the issues with each of these statement?

The first one assumes that I miss my parents. I don’t even miss them since I didn’t talk nor hint about that I want to go home at all.
The second one is just straight up wrong. I literaly walk back and forth between my apartment hostel, the A-level international school and shops inside the university compound that my hostel was in.
The third one will just makes it harder for me to sleep on top of my maladaptive daydreaming forcing me to do “listening to music” rituals.
The fourth one is ironic because my father is diagnosing the issue without being a psychologist or a psychiatrist himself.

I continued begging for the mental illness treatment to my parents. Eventually… The maladaptive daydreaming got so bad that I began looking ways for self-harming myself, so we now have a new mental illness to deal with: severe depression. I was a little too coward for direct self-harm, but I ended up self-harming through Samyang 2x Spicy Ramen often. I often bought these ramen from the university’s shop. My parents are unaware of this.

Then the rare instances of voices calling my name without any unidentified source. The same goes rare instances of hearing and feeling the vibrations from my phone, but my phone wasn’t receiving any notifications or calls.

Again, I continued begging for mental illness treatment while the clock is ticking. I began crying in classes despite it wass filled with teachers and classes. Multiple classes actually. My parents are unaware of this.

I remembered one of the instance of me crying was in a Physics practical class, where the physics teacher looked particularly moody today. That being said, that doesn’t stop me from crying there, which ended up prompting her to help me with the practical stuff that I was trying to do. I could see her helping me out of annoyance and probably a hint of guilt.

Eventually, I got into a breaking point that I want to jump off from the fourth-level of the apartment hostel. Now, my damn parents took action. However, they only sent me to the IISM’s school counselor. For Wednesday to Thursday, I always go there… But he didn’t really do anything to my untreated mental illnesses as this counselor didn’t do anything on diagnosing my mental illnesses and I wasn’t aware if he has any qualifications for handling mental illnesses. I was so confused by this, and I asked my parents for medication instead because my problem was already severe. My parents continued to ignore my begging for treatment through medication.

From here, I noticed that I couldn’t remember I ate. I mean, if I had breakfast, lunch or dinner one hour before, I literally couldn’t remember what I ate. I would struggle remember it. My brain felt like it was… stiff and hazy.

One day, I began crying at the end of my A-level mathematic class, where the students are about to leave the class along with the teacher. In here, I was seated in the near back, next to a wall, I think. At that point, I was trying my hard not to cry as I looked at my A-level math examination papers book as I watch myself unable to solve it because my mind feel blocked and hazy. As my tears began to fall, my mathematic teacher immediately hugged me from my back once I noticed. Once hugged, I began crying it all out, trying to figure out how to fix this. In fact, my mathematics grade and performance are the most greatly impacted by the untreated mental illnesses, where in my AS mathematics’ mock exam is shown to have E grade while my other grades are lower than an A. After a few days since my mathematics teacher’s hug, he proposed after-school classes for the “challenged” ones. To be honest, I’m quite sure the term “challenged” is my mathematics teacher trying to polite instead of saying “badly performing students”, but I don’t care if he had used the more harsher phrasing. My parents are unaware of this instance of crying and the after-school classes.

My father did met my school counselor after the year 1 mark of A-levels programme, where my school counselor stated things that further influenced my father on not treating my mental illnesses. Due to how severe my untreated mental illnesses got, I had to extend my A-levels to two years, but I did the remaining 0.5 years back at Oman.

Then, my father revealed and genuinely believed in the reasons they stated below that led them not sending me for a proper treatment:

I will have hard time to get a job due to stigma. This statement was given even more weight due to my school counselor said this without any supporting evidence held by the counselor himself.
The government will revoke driving license on getting a mental illness diagnosis.
They did not want to make me worry for the points stated above. It was pretty ironic given that I was already worried from my declining grades!

From this point on, I began balding at a very young age around 17-18 due to extreme stress of my untreated mental illnesses, where my father literally bought a shampoo in preventing hair loss. He wants to blame it on eating instant noodles too much, but the thing is, my hair loss isn’t stopping despite my instant noodles consumption got restricted in Oman. So, instant noodles aren’t the issue here.

Eventually, I still had suicidal thoughts due to my still untreated mental illness in Oman. I had began trying to place my head inside plastic bags because I couldn’t take it anymore. Then my parents fucking got met a proper psychologist in Oman, but the problem is that my father kept bringing up money part and said that the company paid some of it due to mental health care being rare in Oman and therefore it would be expensive. Like dude… You could have done this in Malaysia if money is an issue. Nevertheless, I continued my sessions but got eventually I stopped due to COVID-17 and wanting to do it in Malaysia for cheaper treatment.

Bachelor’s Mental Illnesses History

I studied my Computer Science With Artificial Intelligence in University Of Nottingham Malaysia (UNM), where the school is located in Selangor, Malaysia. It has three-years worth of study with 2 semesters per year. I had enrolled to this university around 2020.

To be honest, I wanted to delay the joining of my university because my mental illness being that severe and given my parents are literally not being cooperative on getting me mental health treatment in Malaysia. If I can’t fucking get a mental illness treatment in Malayia because of my parents, at least let me take a rest for some months. I was unaware that my father literally immediately admit me to a university, when I was just exploring the options that the UNM have. I just found a course that I liked, and pointed to my parents that I want to register for this course. However, I made no mention that I wanted the course immediately. Not to fucking mention, I wasn’t told if I wanted to apply it myself, so I didn’t expect my father would literally do it for me. What makes it even more ridiculous is that my first younger brother would have to do the registering himself, confusing me further.

I was aware of the counselling services here, but I expected nothing productive would come out from here due to my A-levels counselor experience. I regretted this so much because in later years, they had an actual psychologist during my initial years of study before the psychologist left prior I went to the university counselor’s for the first time in my third year.

In the first year, I had failed my driving test twice, but the examiner just gave me a pass after the second fail. I already knew the reason why: I had issues looking at the mirrors while looking at the road due to sensory-overload. Even in here, I kept begging for my mental illness treatment prior and after failing the test twice. My parents continued to dismiss as normal driving anxiety despite that I stated to them that I failed the driving test twice.

In the second year of my second semester, I felt like I want to drop out from the university given how much I literally can’t process lessons and I was barely hanging on a thread when it comes to my grades. My brain would feel stiff and hazy whenever I try to process the lessons.

In the early third year, I jad to meet campus security officer due to certain interpersonal issues as a result of the untreated mental illnesses where my parents had to get involved. My parents didn’t link this interpersonal issues to my worsening untreated mental illnesses. Apparently, I was requested to seek the university counselor at this point given people who are involved in my interpersonal conflict are aware of something is off. I also started skipping classes in order to catch up with the previous classes because some of the classes requires previous classes to understand next classes. The reason why I need to catch up with the previous classes was something to do with my brain would feel stiff and hazy whenever I try to process them.

My university counselor then literally recommended me to get treatment for extensions for assignments and exams. He also said there’s no such thing about driving license revocation on diagnosis. I then told this to my parents and my parents finally let me get treatment without resistance since I said it was coming from a university counselor. However, this was a little too late because I was already in my final year of my second semester, where my poor grades are set in stone. Generally, the university does not count the first year grades to the overall grades for your bachelor degree. In here, there’s one information that contradicted how bad the stigma was: the bachelor university willingly offers exam and assignment extensions if you had a valid mental illness diagnosis.

My parents, who were still convinced that I will get stigmatized in jobs for having diagnosis, put me into a private psychiatric treatment without my involvement in decision-making. This led to my parents complaints of expensive costs where each of the consultation costs RM 200 and 1 month worth of medication costs RM 200. Eventually, it was revealed that the cost Malaysia’s public healthcare treatment for each consultation (including medication) is RM 5. However, it requires me to to wait for one month per consultation. In fact, I was fine with a public healthcare one despite the long waiting period because I eventually find out that I only need to pick up for medication and not much therapy.

After a couple of private sessions, I switched to public healthcare for my mental illness treatment after they kept talking about how expensive it was to do private counselling on top of paying medications. I told them they can switch to public healthcare for treatment, but even then they ask me why I needed it so badly.

First off… they’re the fucking one who complained about the money. It’s not that we’re that broke given that my father literally worked in Oman for an oil & gas company for like over 8 years. Secondly, either they fucking shut up about the money or the stigma. You can’t have both. Not to mention, I am literally helping my parents to lower their expenses by wanting to go for public healthcare for my mental illness treatment since I was annoyed by their money complaints.

Eventually, they reluctantly changed it to public healthcare one after me kept pushing for it.

Once changed, I fully expect that I won’t be able to go for therapy often due to 1-month waiting time. While having therapy sessions would be nice, I figured that I could perform “Habit Reversal Therapy” (HRT) and “Exposure And Response Prevention” (ERP) by myself, where the medications I received actually significantly make it easier for me to break out from maladaptive daydreaming rituals that I stated before. I did my best to literally flood my rituals away by filling up with playing games, watching anime series and stuff that requires a lot of my brain power. Meanwhile, I would heavily avoid listening to songs as it would trigger my maladaptive daydreaming rituals.

Also… Surprise, surprise. What did I found once I get the mental illness treatment in the public healthcare for over couple of months. From here, I got these diagnosis: GAD, OCD and high-functioning autism. I got Brintellix for my medication. The counselling was on a monthly basis at first, but sometime it can stretch to two months once I am stable with the medication that I was given with.

Then, I realized something. There was no mention from the public healthcare that my driving license is revoked when I got my diagnosis. So, I brought this up to my father.

He… well… ended up elaborating that the JPJ (the one responsible for giving the driving license to me) and KKM (the one responsible for my mental illness treatment in public healthcare) were using two separate systems and so that is why JPJ never immediately revoked my driving license… I was already raising one of my eyebrows in suspicion and I had suspected that he has now began shifting the goalpost.

Few months later, I suspected ADHD, and so I got diagnosed by a public healthcare psychiatrist. I got that ADHD diagnosis too. The only problem is that getting ADHD medication was difficult, so I ended up using an alternative: drinking coffee more than or equal to two times a day. Not healthy, but who cares. I need it that badly for me to function in my daily life.

If anyone is fucking asking me why I don’t go there myself when I am already an adult, you clearly haven’t put this into mind:

I need to physically present at the public mental healthcare hospital, which either requires me:
- Good at driving, which is impossible due to severity of untreated mental illnesses. My mind would literally have sensory overload, making it difficult for me to focus on the road. This led to me having extreme anxiety and panic while driving on the road. I already told you all about me failing the driving exam twice, so that should be very self-explanatory on how bad I am in driving.
- I need money to go to the hospital if I were to use e-hailing services. However, I can’t because I literally don’t have money for it since I was focused on my studies full-time in university. Not to mention, active blockage by my parents with their stigma excuses. If I was told by my parents “I give you money to go by yourself,” I would have.
Doing mental illness treatment with a private mental healthcare professional and buying unsubsidized medication exceeds my non-existent budget unless I want to go into debt.

The Great Betrayal

For over two years after I graduated from university with second class lower division, I couldn’t shut up about how my driving license was not revoked. I also couldn’t shut up about the job stigma wasn’t even an issue. Especially after I got employed remotely as a junior Roblox game developer for 9 months at RM 2000 per month as gross salary. Even in here, my parents said that the more higher paying jobs would discriminate me, which is way different than their original claim of “you will not be able to get job due to diagnosis”.

I also shoved one of the Malaysia’s criminal law: Act 611, Child Act 2001, Section 31(4). It stated:

“a parent or guardian or other person legally liable to maintain a child shall be deemed to have neglected him in a manner likely to cause him physical or emotional injury if, being able to so provide from his own resources, he fails to provide adequate food, clothing, medical or dental treatment, lodging or care for the child”

My parents just laughed at my face and dared me to sue them. Eventually, he couldn’t take my complaints anymore, he ordered me to get out and prepare luggages for the train station. I KEPT EVERYTHING IN MY BEDROOM WITH ME EXCEPT FOR SOME BOOKS.

Then, my 2nd youngest brother suddenly developed schizophrenia while studying in a an oversea German university without any fault of anyone, including my parents. I was also told that my younger brother was in the Germany’s healthcare facilities to treat his schizophrenia, and had blocked my father from fetching him for over unknown amount of months.

Then, the German government had warned my parents that he needs to get treated to continue studying in Germany’s university. So, my parents did in Malaysia, despite having the same job issues due to stigma and driving license revocation issue like me. Without resistance. I am unsure if my parents had funded my schizophrenic brother’s treatment in Germany during the early stages of the German government’s intervention.

Even better yet for him, he was treated early during his first year of overseas study in the Germany’s university, giving him a good chance of getting good grades upon graduation.

Suddenly, my mother gave me a good news that I wouldn’t get kicked out of the house. In here, I wasn’t aware that the German government might have played a role in this, but I eventually figured it out after receiving the news that my 2nd youngest brother got schizophrenia.

Suddenly, after my younger’s brother mental health treatment, they now suddenly care about my mental illnesses.

Only fucking then my father apologized on a WhatsApp message! Does anybody see the irony of this?! My father apologized after attempting to kick me out to the train station, completely rendering that apology useless! The time for apologizing was DURING THE TIME I GOT MY PUBLIC HEALTHCARE TREATMENT FOR THE FIRST TIME AND THEY SAW NO DRIVING LICENSE REVOCATION FOR OVER THE LONG TIME. HIS APOLOGY IS AS HALF-ASSED JUST LIKE THE SPEED OF ME GETTING MY MENTAL ILLNESS TREATMENT. EXTREMELY MEANINGLESS TO THE EXTREMELY ACTUAL FUCK.

Then, my father asked me to watch my 2nd youngest brother at midnight and offered to pay some money… This is because my 2nd youngest brother had the tendency of wanting to go outside in the middle of the night.

One day, my father received a call from my mother that my 2nd youngest brother was missing as they both went to shopping.

I don’t remember what I said, but something like my father delayed treatment for me, but not for him.

My father tried to justify with “Chinese and Indians abuse mental OKU diagnosis to get out of severe punishments for severe car accidents by bribing psychologists or psychiatrists for diagnosis, hence the Malaysian government have a general rule on to revoke driving license on diagnosis received”. My father attempted to use… online newspaper articles as evidence.

This is where my brain just… snapped.

My father… is… using… newspaper… as… evidence…

And… he… can’t… find.. it… for… something… that… he… had… justified… using… it… on… me…

I was… beginning… to snap…

I tried to give VERY charitable reasonable of doubt. VERY reasonable of doubt. VERY CHARITABLE INDEED.

Until… I looked into the JPJ and KKM official websites.

There was no such policy.

At best, this is what I got: JPJ official policy regarding mental illnesses on the government websites that existed since 2011 showed that the license is revoked based on strict criteria. Not to mention, even if revoked, JPJ would restore them. This is also for vocational driving license, and I couldn’t find the version for personal driving license. It is extremely likely that the driving license would be far more lenient. In addition, I had also considered the potential confusion that the driving license would be revoked either way regardless of health conditions.

My worldview slowly collided with the reality of what I saw as I climb down the stairs. Not to mention, I could feel my body starts to become more stiff as I climb down the stairs.

My first instinct was… to shove the fucking policy to my father’s face and on the WhatsApp message. I began laughing hysterically and started mocking to my father about his statement of “Chinese and Indians abuse mental OKU diagnosis to get out of severe punishments for severe car accidents by bribing psychologists or psychiatrists for diagnosis, hence the Malaysian government have a general rule on to revoke driving license on diagnosis received”. It ranged from me saying these in a mocking tone:

“Oh no! Chinese and Indians abuse mental OKU diagnosis!”
“Oh no! I am going to lose my license!”
“Oh no!”

My father was so pissed off at this and told me to calm down with his angry voice. He stated that I am scaring my 2nd youngest brother when I acted hysterically and mockingly.

I don’t believe one bit that my 2nd youngest brother would be scared of my act. Feels like it was more of an ego-saving attempt that he does not want me to talk about this.

Five years. Gone. What was I suffering for then? On top of my parents rapidly responded to my 2nd youngest brother’s schizophrenia all while me begging for treatment for over five years.

My 2nd youngest brother and I also had the same problems if we get treatment in Malaysia’s public healthcare: stigma from job and the driving license revocation.

And my parents just… ignored those problems for my 2nd youngest brother, but not for me.

Haha….

Hahaha..

HAHAHAHA!

Liar.

Pretty dirty liar.

Liar.

My father is a LIAR!

My father is a liar. Liar! I’m telling you he is a liar on the greatest proportions! Liar. Liar. Liar. A pathethic fucking liar.

Liar. So fucking liar.

At this point, I fucking rejected the offer to watch my schizophrenic younger brother in midnight out of anger. I then told my parents that is their problem since they did not fix my mental illness problem early hence I have no interest in helping them out. They can go fuck themselves taking care of my younger brother and stress about it.

I also amped my complaints about my father’s statements of driving license revocation and stigmatization in jobs on top of this hypocritical treatment to my 2nd youngest brother. I also requested for all of his sources regarding the license revocation. ALL OF IT.

UNITL TO THIS DAY, HE HAVE NOT GIVEN A SINGLE SOURCE OF SUCH LICENSE REVOCATION POLICY. NOT EVEN THE ONES FROM SOCIAL MEDIAS. I GAVE LOTS OF TIME FOR HIM TO ACTUALLY TO COLLECT IT. HE HAD PRODUCED NONE OF IT UNTIL THIS DAY.

Eventually, father immediately enforced his kicking out decision. However, They would put me to my parents’ unoccupied second house in a condominium that my parents recently bought in Cyberjaya instead of the train station that they previously offered to me. The German government intervention against my parents for my 2nd youngest brother may have strongly played a part here. Not to mention, I did cite to them the criminal law for a section of child neglect involving lack of medical care, but unsure if that also plays a role as well.

When I moved there with my luggages, my father wanted a surveillance camera watching at me in the kitchen so he can observe me so that I don’t go kill myself. The camera broked and I decided not care about fixing it, because I couldn’t care shit about his “care” when he never fucking owns up to it. My father noticed that the camera is broken because they could not get any feeds from that camera and ended up asking me to fix it multiple times. I just ignored his requests.

I’M FUCKING SURE THIS IS FOR MY PARENTS TO SAVE THEIR OWN FUCKING ASSES IF I DO DECIDE TO KILL MYSELF. NOT TO MENTION, WHEN THAT SURVEILLANCE CAMERA BROKE, THEY MAKE NO REPLACEMENT SINCE I WOULDN’T EVEN BOTHER TO FIX IT. THIS MEANT THAT THEIR “CARING” ABOUT ME WAS ACTUALLY SHORT-LIVED AND REACTIVE. THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY I COULD CARE ABOUT MY PARENTS NOW ONCE I REALIZED THIS. I COULDN’T CARE LESS IF I HAD KILLED MYSELF AND MAKE MY PARENTS LOOK BAD. IN FACT, I PREFER IT IF MY PARENTS LOOK BAD BECAUSE THEY FUCKING ARE!

To be honest, when I stayed in that second house of theirs, it was so quiet and peaceful. I would often ignore my parents’ text messages or calls unless I wanted something from them, which is quite rare for me to do. I couldn’t care jackshit about their worries because they never worried about my untreated mental illnesses! My mother would panic if I don’t actually don’t contact her at all, which I also ignored as well. Even more weirder, my parents have this weird push-and-pull dynamic regarding wanting to kick me out to the second house and bringing me back to the main house for short visits.

Holy shit. Make up their fucking mind already! Do they want to kick me out or not?!

Shame that I had to move back to the main house eventually since that second house got rented by someone.

The Aftermath

In common cases, I wouldn’t even notice misspellings that I made as I type on keyboards. I would also audibly mumble to myself as if I am talking to other people in my imagination without my awareness and without any trigger, despite my ability trying to supress it before ending up failing due to exhaustion from lowered stress handling threshold. In addition, I wouldn’t notice that a sentence wouldn’t even formatted properly or make any sense, despite me being exposed to English like for over 10 years. I still occasionally hear the knocking on my bathroom walls when I am inside, which only stops when I leave to my bedroom attached to it. I also occasionally feel things climbing on my feet as I work and play using my laptop on my desk. I also occasionally hear voices calling my name. In very rare cases, I thought I ordered something I wanted in restaurants, just to end up noticing that I received a different order. When I looked at my receipts, I had ordered something that I did not order.

I also quit from all of my family’s WhatsApp group. I had also attempts of them trying to bring me back to the family’s WhatsApp group, which I ended up leaving again. I had one instance that my father formed a group between my father, my mother and me, before he posted a link to an online certification course. I also left that group immediately as well.

I also still eat Samyang 2x Spicy Ramen, but instead of just self-harming, I either used them for stress relief, boredom, self-harming or any combinations of them. Though, I would often substitute Samyang 2x Spicy Ramen with Samyang 2x Spicy Sauce as they are more economical and I could apply the sauce anywhere I wanted with the trade-off of not having the ramen or the garnishing itself. Though the ramen part is fixable just by buying the ramen on its own.

I also I noticed something… My parents are actually active in denying about giving me my mental illnesses treatment back then and that leads them to blame on my own attributes that don’t even exist! I mean, who the fuck deny a person saying “I am sick and I need treatment” to something like saying “You don’t exercise enough.” That is like saying “I have a diarrhea” and the other say “Your diet is poor.”

Consequently, my father tried to claim that I mistook him for “making broad overgeneralization about stigma in jobs” after my many complaints about me still getting a job while diagnosed. I quickly made him shut up by asking him “What’s the point of your plan where you hid the fact that you didn’t get me diagnosed in A-Levels because you are worried that my worries and anxieties of potential unemployment could lead me to destroy my grades?” This attempt of shifting goalpost backfired spectacularly because he can’t deny he did that to me and not just words that he could argue against.

My parents also tried to say, “You haven’t seen that even more visibly mentally ill people are working as Grab driver while you complain about us delaying your treatment. Let me show you videos of such people being able to work despite more severe mental illnesses than yours.” I literally facepalmed at their faces, since they literally proved my point that even someone who is visibly mentally ill can get a job, completely invalidating the reason why they delayed my treatment in the first place. I just wanted to laugh at them because it was too funny for me to see that they try to ignore the fact I am complaining because they lack accountability and lack owning up their mistakes in the first place!

Not to mention, my father is now worried about my mental illnesses after all these shits they pulled out. I ended up telling him, “Why now? I begged for it like many years ago. You had so many chances to deal with it.” My father went silent because he couldn’t answer that without self-incrimination as I am now looking for the real reason why they delayed my treatment instead of the fake protection excuses.

Let’s Count On How Many Contradictions My Parents Made!

There’s just too many to count as separate things. They stack up and show a pattern.

On employment:

“You will not be able to get a job.” → I got employed.
“Higher-paying jobs will discriminate.” → Contradicts #1; admits #1 was false.
“Visibly mentally ill people work as Grab drivers; let me show you videos of such people being able to work despite more severe mental illnesses than yours.” → Contradicts both #1 and #2; proves employment is possible regardless of visibility or severity.
Used #3 to shame me for complaining about delayed treatment → But #3 invalidates the original reason for withholding treatment; they gathered video proof that goes against their own position while thinking it would shut me up.
Focused #3 entirely on my complaint rather than admitting delayed treatment was the real problem → Shows they couldn’t connect their own proof to their own mistake; still no accountability even when holding evidence that disproves them.

On driving licenses:

“Diagnosis means automatic revocation.” → JPJ policy shows no such rule.
“JPJ and KKM use separate systems, so revocation isn’t immediate.” → Contradicts #6; shifts from certainty to bureaucratic delay.
“Chinese and Indians bribe psychologists to abuse OKU diagnosis, hence general revocation rule.” → Contradicts #6 and #7; makes up a story about ethnic bribery.
Cannot produce any source for #6, #7, or #8 after months of being asked → Contradicts how sure they sounded when saying all three.
Official JPJ policy exists since 2011 showing conditional, restorable revocation for vocational licenses only → Contradicts the blanket claim in #6, #7, #8.
News articles confirm mental health patients can still drive → Contradicts #6, #7, #8.

On protection vs. neglect:

“We delayed treatment to protect you from stigma and license loss.” → Treatment withheld during my active deterioration, suicidal thoughts, brain fog.
Brother received immediate treatment in Germany despite identical supposed risks → Contradicts #12; protection was selective.
German government intervention preceded brother’s treatment → Suggests outside pressure, not parental care, drove action.
Apology came only after citing criminal neglect law and attempted ejection → Contradicts the idea that past actions were protective; looks like giving in under threat, not real regret.
Apology delivered via WhatsApp, not face-to-face → Doesn’t match the seriousness of what happened (if they even meant it).
No mention of specific harms in apology → Contradicts the point of apologizing at all.

On my complaints:

“You’re overgeneralizing about stigma.” → But stigma claim was used as a real reason for medical decisions.
When confronted with #18, went silent → Can’t explain #18 alongside what they actually did.
Accused me of scaring brother when I mocked license fabrication → Brother’s reaction never confirmed; accusation was just to stop me talking, not to protect him.

On money:

Complained private treatment was expensive (RM200 consultation + RM200 meds/month).
Public healthcare available at RM5/consultation including meds.
I proposed switching to public to address #21 → Parents asked why I needed it “so badly.”
Father worked in oil & gas in Oman for 8+ years → Contradicts the money excuse in #21.
Demanded I justify need while simultaneously complaining about cost → Can’t hold both at once without sounding ridiculous.

On surveillance/care:

Installed camera to prevent suicide → Framed as care.
Camera broke; I didn’t fix it; parents didn’t replace it → Contradicts #26; care depended on me obeying.
Asked me repeatedly to fix camera → Cared about the feed working, not about me being okay.
Offered payment for midnight caretaking of brother → Made care transactional after years of refusing free care for me.

On family communication:

Formed WhatsApp group to share certification course → Tried to reconnect.
I left immediately → Rejected fake normalcy.
Mother panics when I don’t contact her → But no panic during years of untreated crisis.
Push-pull between kicking me out and inviting short visits → Can’t decide if I belong or not.

In Conclusion

My parents were lazy.

Yes. That is the word that cuts through all their fucking excuses.

They were not strategically protecting me from stigma. They were not carefully weighing risks. They were not making difficult but loving sacrifices.

They were lazy.

Too lazy to research whether JPJ actually revokes licenses for diagnosed individuals.
Too lazy to verify what the school counselor was actually qualified to do.
Too lazy to look up public healthcare costs when they were literally complaining about private ones.
Too lazy to take my repeated and escalating pleas seriously until an external government literally forced them to act for someone else.
Too lazy to own up to any of it even after being proven wrong on every single fucking point.
Too lazy to produce a single source for the claims they used to justify five years of neglect.
Too lazy to apologize properly because sending a WhatsApp message after trying to evict me is not remorse but damage control with minimum effort.

Even the surveillance camera fits. Installing one is easy. Maintaining it and checking in genuinely and following through with consistent care requires ongoing effort. When it broke and I did not fix it, they did not replace it either. Replacing it would have meant admitting the original gesture was performative and actually caring would have required work they never intended to put in.

The German government intervention did not change their values. It just made inaction inconvenient for them. Even then, their response to me afterward was still half assed with a meaningless apology and a request for me to babysit my schizophrenic brother at midnight and continued silence on sources. My father paying me to manage my schizophrenic brother’s night-time wandering was laziness repackaged as opportunity.

Laziness disguised as concern. Laziness dressed up as protection. Laziness that cost me five years of untreated mental illnesses and academic collapse and suicidal ideation and hair loss and lost skills I am now trying to rebuild.

The most damning part is that they had the resources. Oil and gas salary. Access to both private and public healthcare. JPJ website and phone numbers. Every tool was handed to them. They just did not bother picking any of them up until they were forced to.

No other explanations could have led to my parents’ actions.

Fear would have motivated research. Stigma would have applied equally to both children. Ignorance would have been corrected by years of explicit requests. Ego protection would have led to doubling down rather than silence when confronted. Malice would have produced consistent hostility, not performative care under external pressure. Misguided love would have included at least one verifiable attempt to validate claims (e.g. calling JPJ, consulting a psychiatrist) or at least immediately apologized once any of my parents’ claims are disproven.

Only laziness explains why they never updated their beliefs, never verified their claims, never sought proper care until forced, and never followed through on performative gestures like the surveillance camera. It is the common denominator in every failure point.

The other factors are contributing conditions. Laziness is the operating mechanism.

So yes. Lazy. Not misguided. Not misinformed. Not well intentioned but wrong.

Just lazy.

Sudden Realization

Do my parents actually even “love” us? If my parents couldn’t even pick up a phone to call JPJ to avoid risky life-changing decisions, that means they couldn’t do simple things like this to avoid catastrophic mistake… This would mean that their “love” towards us was so minimal that it justifies laziness.

Laziness toward a child’s survival needs is incompatible with love. Love does not require perfection, but it requires baseline engagement. A three-minute phone call to prevent five years of suffering is below that baseline. It is not even a high bar; it is the floor. They did not meet the floor.

All the material, housing and food that they gave us likely done out of getting themselves out of trouble from the governments’ interventions like what happened to my schizophrenic brother to induce compliance for his mental illness treatment. Even I don’t feel so easy about the reason why they give all the overseas trips and expensive stuffs since it looked like they are trying to avoid appearance of neglect more than naturally “love” their children.

Compliance responds to legal/social pressure; love responds to harm caused. The timing matched the threat, not the injury.

Scary.