Navigating the sprawling campus on my first day as a freshman was an adventure in itself, and not necessarily a pleasant one. Armed with a campus map that might as well have been written in an alien language, I found myself wandering aimlessly, growing increasingly frustrated with each wrong turn and dead end. The sun beat down mercilessly, intensifying my confusion and irritation. My backpack, heavy with textbooks and uncertainty, also clutching a big travelling bag containing foodstuffs for the main time, seemed to weigh me down even more. I had spent what felt like an eternity trying to find my allocated hostel, but every corner I turned only led to more unfamiliar sights.
I sat down on a pavement to relax a bit, luckily a girl sat close to me, I summoned up courage to ask for help “hey miss” I’m a fresher I said, how may I help you, she asked calmly. I’m trying to find the hostel allocated to me, what is the name? she asked. Queen Elizabeth II hostel , I said wondering if she knows it. With a reassuring chuckle, she reached into her bag and pulled out a neatly folded campus map. "Here, this might make things easier for you," she said, offering it to me. I accepted the map with gratitude, she pointed out landmarks and key buildings, explaining the layout of the campus in a way that was both concise and clear. She seemed to effortlessly demystify the chaos I had been experiencing, and I realized that my hostel wasn't as far away as my frustration had led me to believe.
I found myself stepping through the doors of my new hostel, embarking on a journey that I hoped would shape the next chapter of my life. As I surveyed my surroundings, my initial excitement gave way to a mixture of uncertainty and disbelief. The paint on the walls was chipped in places, revealing the layers of history that the place held. The lighting was dim, casting a slightly gloomy atmosphere over the area. It was a stark contrast to the vibrant and modern image I had built up in my mind. My room was equally underwhelming. The bed creaked when I tentatively sat down, and the mattress felt like it had seen more than its fair share of restless nights. The wardrobe was small, barely enough to hold my belongings, and the window overlooked a courtyard that seemed to have been neglected for quite some time. The bathroom was functional but far from luxurious, with a lingering scent of disinfectant that only seemed to amplify the overall discomfort. I let out a sigh as I sat down on the edge of the bed, I would get comfortable as time goes on I assured myself. I unpacked my belongings and started arranging them in the limited space I had.
As I stepped into the lecture hall for the very first time as an undergraduate, a whirlwind of excitement and nervous anticipation churned within me. The room buzzed with the energy of my fellow course mates, their eager conversations and exchanged laughter creating an atmosphere that was both invigorating and slightly overwhelming. The professor strode to the front of the room, their presence commanding attention. With a warm smile, they introduced themselves and began explaining the intricacies of the course. As the professor discussed the course fees and dues, my eyes widened in disbelief. I had expected the costs associated with university life, but the breakdown of expenses—ranging from tuition to materials and various fees—caught me off guard, but anyways my parents told me to call whenever I need anything plus the weekly allowance I’m going to be receiving.
By 3:00 pm class came to an end, as I returned to my room, I noticed a new presence. A neatly made bed sat against the wall, and a small desk was now occupied by someone's belongings. I blinked in surprise, my heart racing with confusion. My roommate, I guessed, entered the room with a warm smile that immediately put me at ease. She introduced herself with a friendly handshake, I’m Sophia, she said, Peace, I replied. Hope we get along, yeah sure I said quite happy to have a companion. Which course are you offering she asked,” law” I said, and you? Medicine, woaah! I exclaimed.
In the labyrinth of a mind consumed by an invisible force, I struggled daily with a battle that no one else could see. Urges that seemed to arise from the depths of my subconscious ensued me, the urges weren't just whispers; they were like waves crashing against the walls of my self-control. I fought back, of course I did, but the compulsion was an insidious siren, its call impossible to ignore. In the midst of a jewelry store's glimmering allure, my fingers trembled with an uncontrollable urge. Drawn to a delicate silver pendant, I battled the compulsion that whispered promises of relief. Heart pounding, palms sweaty, I glanced around, then quickly and discreetly slipped the pendant into my palm. Guilt mingled with fleeting satisfaction as I left the store.
Sophia, unaware of my struggle, began to notice things going missing. Earrings that were once on her desk would mysteriously vanish, and cherished mementos would inexplicably disappear. At first, she brushed it off as forgetfulness, but as the incidents continued, her sense of unease grew. My heart would race as the urge to steal took over. I would try to resist, but the tension would become unbearable, a voice in my head whispering that taking something would bring relief. And in moments of weakness, I would give in, only to be consumed by guilt and shame afterward.
Late at night when everybody must have gone to bed, my thought lingered on my roommate's prized possession—a pair of exquisite shoes that exuded elegance. Although I had something like that, but I just wanted hers, my heart raced as the compulsion seized me, urging me to touch, to take, to possess. The line between longing and action blurred, and with trembling hands, I picked up the shoes and hid it under my luggage.
By morning, Sophia raised an alarm about her missing shoe, It didn't take long for the chaos to reach a boiling point. Accusations flew, tempers flared, and friendships strained under the weight of suspicion. Of course, I was the prime suspect, fellow friends kept urging me to speak up, I was clothed with guilt, shame and embarrassment, I knew it was time to spill all out, I told Sophia I wanted to speak with her in private, tears welled up in my eyes as I recounted the incident—the moment when weakness had led me to steal her cherished shoe and other things I have stolen. As I finished my confession, I braced myself for Sophia’s reaction. But to my astonishment, Sophia expression softened with understanding, and she placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.
You are suffering from KLEPTOMANIA, Sophia said to me, what is that I asked curiously, Kleptomania is a mental health disorder characterized by an impulse control problem that leads to a recurrent and irresistible urge to steal items that are not needed for personal use or monetary gain. People with kleptomania typically experience a sense of tension or anxiety before committing the theft, followed by relief or gratification afterward.
It's important to note that kleptomania is different from ordinary theft or shoplifting. People with kleptomania steal items on impulse, often without premeditation, and the items they steal are often of little or no value to them. They might steal things like trinkets, small items, or even items they could easily afford to purchase, she explained. What causes it, I asked, The exact cause of kleptomania is not well understood, but it is believed to be related to a combination of genetic, neurological, and psychological factors. It is classified as an impulse control disorder in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5), which is used by mental health professionals to diagnose mental health conditions, she said. How do you know all this Sophia, oh, I once did a research work about kleptomania, she answered. How can I be treated? I asked, Treatment for kleptomania typically involves psychotherapy, such as cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) or other therapeutic approaches aimed at addressing the underlying emotional and psychological triggers for the impulsive behavior. Medications, such as antidepressants, may also be used in some cases to help control the urges associated with kleptomania. it's important to seek help from a mental health professional, she replied. So I would have to go the hospital I asked, yes but we must inform your parents first and I’m also here to support you, she replied, hugging me…
