“I don’t really want to die. I just wanted it all to stop.” That’s what I once wrote here when I mentioned my suicide attempts. That’s what I answer people when asked “why did you do it?”
What I did three weeks ago is no exception. The only difference from previous attempts is that it got that far. Closest I’ve come to to actual suicide. Had I not…had I not fought til the end, I wouldn’t be here right now. You wouldn’t be reading this.
Continue reading “Not yet ;”
On a previous post, I mused about something my doctor told me. That I have had this thing inside me that has kept me alive all these years. I initially theorized that it was “control.” Another theory is a “survival instinct.” I have another theory: a “will to live.”
All of the above, perhaps. And other still unknown variables that has kept me alive. I am still, after all, in the process of knowing and understanding myself – everything about myself related to all aspects imaginable and unimaginable – so there’s still a lot to learn.
Which leads us to recent events that has undeniable implications on my mental well-being – the romantic relationship that I was in ended. Both sides made mistakes that contributed to the demise of the relationship, both parties learned lessons in the aftermath.
Continue reading “How Far We’ve Come Pts I & II”
Among the things I’ve learned in recovery, one of the most important things, is to acknowledge that I’m not okay. I have to do that now. I have to acknowledge that, despite the smiles and laughter and the love I’ve been feeling recently, there’s that voice in the back of my head that’s yelling “stop ignoring me! I’m here! Something’s wrong!”
I’ll admit, I may have gotten lost in the happiness recently. Gotten too absorbed by it. And because of that, I have overlooked one of the key tenets I’ve taught myself: self-awareness. Mindfulness. I’ve been unaware, or perhaps even replacing what it is I’m supposed to feel with positivity, of the negative thoughts in my mind that I have to face head on.
Continue reading “Shallow Water Blackout”
“What would happen if I went off my meds? Even just for a day.”
I’ve often wondered about that. I wanted to experiment. Wanted to see what would happen. I’ve been on Escitalopram every single day since November. That’s over half a year. It’s been a huge part of my life. It’s an integral part of my life. That tiny little white pill has helped me create magic, create a life that I never thought I’d be able to have. One of success. One of fulfillment. One of productivity. One that I can honestly say that I now can’t walk away from.
But what would happen if I stop taking that little white pill? Would all I’ve learned, the survival skills and strategies I’ve amassed, in the six months since I started treatment for clinical depression would be enough? Would everything I learned help me survive without it?
Even just for a day. Just one day without the pill.
Continue reading “Bloodstream Pts I & II”
A lot has happened since the last time I checked in here. Man, that last post was weird. It was random, just had to post it cos I felt like I had to. Anyway…
I decided to get off the Risperidone. It had undesirable effects on my thought processes and thinking. “Undesirable” being an understatement. I felt like I was really losing my sanity. Like whatever grip I had to it was mere inches. It got bad. Really bad. Had to have a friend sleep over in case I do something stupid or lose my shit completely.
Continue reading “A Face to Face”
We had a massive junk clearing in our house a couple of years back. We were segregating old things we might still have use for or old stuff that’s still of importance and stuff that’s to be thrown away or donated to charity. I found an old folder containing documents that once belonged to my mom. Nothing important – old bank checks and medical documents from when she was rushed to Makati Med for God knows what reason – but I kept it anyway for reasons that weren’t clear to me back then.
This was a couple of years ago when I was still trapped in my own little world. I barely read the contents. Did an obligatory glance, then kept them hidden behind my safe (it didn’t fit inside my safe.) And then it was forgotten. I only remembered the existence of documents a couple of months ago when I started to work on my oh so obvious mommy issues. Heh, but I don’t see it as that. I see it as me wanting to know where I came from. It’s me getting to know the benefactor of my mental illness. It’s me getting to know my mother on a personal level. I still have a lot of questions that may be left unanswered, but I gotta work with what I have.
Continue reading “Six Months On…”
“I’ll be honest and say that at first I was shocked and confused as to how you could post things that are supposedly just for you like things about anxiety and depression.”
That was among the contents of a message I received the day after my last breakdown. It was the first sentence, actually. I dialed in on that sentence for a while. I had to understand it. I had to digest it. Analyze it. The sentence that came after stated that the sender did realize how I could do such a thing, how I can be so open about my anxiety and depression to others.
I read the whole message and went back to that first sentence. I kept rereading it like it was a mathematical equation that I was trying to decipher.
“…supposedly just for you…”
Continue reading “The Bravest Thing That You Can Do”
It happened again last night. A couple of friends were over. I was with someone who makes me truly happy and calm. I was having fun and enjoying life. We were drinking and just making the most of the time we shared.
I had to leave the festivities for a bit for the saddest part of the night: driving the girl I like to her house. Didn’t want to let go of her hand, but I had to.
I came back to the friends I had over, to the alcohol that was for us, and continued drinking. It was a perfect night. Until they all went home and I was left alone to ponder on what was said to me by one of them.
That’s when it all spiraled again.
Continue reading “The Aftermath of 3/24/2016’s Battle”
I say this with no confirmation as getting it would be impossible at this point, but my mother may have passed her mental health issue on to me. Genetics play a crucial factor in our wellbeing. That’s a scientific fact. Heart issues run in my father’s side of the family. I have one. Nothing major, but it’s there. On my mother’s side, well, that’s one where nothing can ever be known. My mother’s family is a black hole to me, unfortunately.
After my mother’s funeral, her whole family cut ties with us. I don’t know why, but I can speculate. Her sister, whom I assume she was close with, blames my father for my mother’s suicide. We’ve tried reaching out the only way we can: by leaving our contact info to the caretaker of the Marcelo mausoleum to give to the Aunt that is a stranger to me. I may have passed her, or anyone from my mother’s family, on the street and I’d never know it.
Continue reading “Providence & New Ghosts”
My dearest ______,
If you’re reading this, then it could only mean one thing: I’m in a much better place. If you’re reading this, then I have finally done what I should have done a million years ago. If you’re reading this, it means that I was too tired of fighting, of everything – the voices, the constant dread, the hell I was in, my skin that seemed like it was never my own, everything about myself – and needed that way out. That final step.
If you know me, you’d know by now that I have clinical depression. It bears repeating. I have clinical depression. I HAVE CLINICAL DEPRESSION.
Continue reading “An Open Letter”