On the Edge

11 Aug

Tonight, instead of thinking about how much I’d rather die and stop existing, I’m choosing to instead write about how I’m faring. I don’t know how many people read these posts, or find it helpful/interesting etc, but I guess I just need to vent somehow, without inconveniencing others.

I would love to say that I’ve gotten better and that things are under control, but that would be one of the biggest lies I would ever have to tell. Honestly, I feel like I’m on the edge most of the time. I feel like I’m walking on a tightrope where I can’t see the end and the bottom looks inviting in its despair. But I can’t miss a step and fall into the abyss because everybody keeps telling me to live. But isn’t that selfish? Telling me that they want me to live, and yet putting me in the position where I have to keep suffering; day after day. Everybody tells me it gets better, and that all I need to is to smile, go out, exercise etc when those are all things that depression & anxiety stops me from doing in the first place. And when I can’t; when I’m in tears, frustrated or angry; they tell me I’m not trying hard enough.

See, the thing is that I’m trying. I’m trying every day. Every day that I’m still alive is proof that I’m trying even if I’m just lying in bed. Because it’s so hard, to have to keep living with myself; with the thoughts in my head. It’s so hard to keep living and trying when I’m so weak and exhausted by this battle. Even a trip to Japan didn’t halve the pain. Sure, I loved it but it was just a minor distraction. The whole time I was there; I was trying to hold in the tears, in the frustration, in the worries and the pain. And when I came back, I had to try my best to keep pretending that things had gotten better and when I failed, I was questioned as to why. Why aren’t you better. You just went to Japan, why are you still depressed. And I didn’t know how to answer. I still don’t know to answer.

If I wasn’t scared of failing, and if I wasn’t scared of the scars I could leave my family with, I would’ve just passed on by now. I rarely feel good about myself and I feel like I’m a burden to everyone in my life. I can see the pain and frustration my parent’s get by my tears, my appointments and my unhappiness. I can see my boyfriend’s patience waning as he no longer wants to hold me when I’m down, to deal with my moods, to take me to my appointments, to even spend time with me. I feel like I’m a burden to everyone that’s close to me and I just want to stop feeling so guilty. I don’t want to be alive to see them give up on me. The pain is already unbearable enough. Can’t I just get respite? Can’t I just stop existing?

I no longer feel my life is worth living, nor do I feel my existence is valuable. Isn’t that the end then?

100615 : A reason to wake

10 Jun

Have you ever thought about going to sleep but you couldn’t think of a reason to wake up?

That’s me, right now. I wanted to go to sleep, but I couldn’t think of a single reason for me to wake up tomorrow. I can’t think of a single thing to look forward to; tomorrow or even the day after. I know it’ll be Friday, but it’ll just be another repetitive week: wake up at 7am, go to work, go home, have dinner, watch Friends and sleep. I know that I’m heading to Japan soon, but thinking about the time before that, I can’t think of any reason to keep going.

My thoughts aren’t suicidal at the moment exactly… maybe tired. I really am just tired of everything right now. I can’t think of a single reason as to why it would be bad to not wake up tomorrow. I know that everyone will remind me that I’m young, and there’s so much more of life to discover and enjoy. But I’m too tired to even care. I feel like I’ve already reached the height (or bottom I guess) of my emotional rollercoaster and I’m already sick of being so low, and not really being excited or happy about life.

I don’t think if you saw me around these days, you would recognise me because I look different before the depression hit full force. I’ve been stress eating, my body is constantly in pain, I never have a good night’s sleep anymore… I’ve aged at least 10 years in the past few weeks. I look like a zombie. My mother is always telling me I look like an old woman now.

I honestly feel like an old woman though. I feel like I’ve taken enough life out of my body and mind. My body aches, my heart is hurt from the anxiety. I get headaches from lack of sleep. I just don’t know of any reason for me to wake up tomorrow. And it’s killing me even further inside. I’m running out of tears to cry every night. Crying is supposed to make us feel better but now, it feels like crying is redundant because no matter how many tears I shed every night, I still feel as shitty the next day.

And I no longer feel like myself anymore. I feel like I’m a ghost of my old self… I feel like a shell overtaken by negative energy. My dad tells me I’m probably possessed by a negative ghost and I’ve got to fight it off… but I can’t. I’m exhausted and lost and confused. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t understand myself anymore. I feel like an observer who makes everything worse in ‘Anna’s’ life. I feel disconnected from myself, if that makes sense. I think I’ve gone off the footpath and walked into the scary forest you’re supposed to avoid.

I thought if I took time off of uni, things will ease off… and it did. For awhile and then the personal things started to attack me even more. I’m bruised, battered and fragile. I don’t know how to differentiate between truth and lies. I’m paranoid and unbelieving of everyone. It’s hard to be this way. It’s hard to be constantly be pushed down by the negativity, to be rained on without an umbrella in the storm. I don’t know how I’ll keep going… and if I can even make it. I don’t know if it’s better to be alive and be constantly unhappy, anxious, worried, angry and paranoid or to just submit myself to the void and feel nothing.

A lot of the time nowadays… I feel like the latter is the better option. But one step at a time… I guess I have to try and figure out a reason to go to sleep and wake up tomorrow.

Depression & catching up [part one]

10 May

Let’s talk about depression; my depression. If you know me well, then you know that I have depression. It’s not something I hide away from the world because I’m not ashamed of it. I know that it carries a stigma and most people don’t understand what it is. It’s more than just a low mood or feeling sad. It’s feeling sad, low or moody (usually intensely) for a long period of time (consistently for at least 2 weeks is a base point). Sometimes it even happens for no apparent reason. It’s a serious illness that is just gaining understanding from those who don’t suffer from it (and even for those who are). It not only impacts our mental health, but it will affect your physical health too.

Symptoms of depression can include:
– lack of energy
– difficulty sleeping or sleeping too much
– inability to concerntrate
– loss of interest in hobbies, enjoyable activities and life in general
– And most importantly, a persisting low mood.

If you can recover by yourself, then good on you. If it goes away by itself then awesome. Talk to your family and friends about it and ask them to provide support. But if it doesn’t seem to be going away, and it’s really starting to affect your life, then I recommend seeking help and support from a professional. I know that there’s a negative stigma about admitting you have depression and seeing a psychologist because it might make you appear “weak” but I assure you, that’s not the truth at all.

If you can admit to yourself that you have a problem, that’s bravery. If you can be proactive and seek help, that’s courage. If anyone tells you otherwise, they’re just being ignorant. They don’t understand it. Don’t listen to them because their ignorance will bring you down. Don’t let it. Be proud of yourself, that you’re going to fight the depression. Depression is like cancer. Sometimes it appears out of nowhere but it can be devastating. It can even kill you if you don’t seek help in time. So ignore the ignorant and be your own hero.

This won’t be everyone experience with depression, but I’d like to tell you about mine.

I’ve had depression for quite a long time. I think the first time I had it was in high school, about 14 years old. I was lucky and had a supportive boyfriend who helped me through it at the time. But the thing about depression is that it’s like herpes. It can come back at any time. And it did. About once a year, I would get a month where I would be down. I would be moody, I would lose interest in life, and I had to try really hard to get out of bed in the morning. It really wasn’t good for my academics, and I didn’t do as well as I’d hope. It also didn’t help that three of my grandparents passed away during that time, in ’09,’10 & ’12.

I was seeing the school counsellor at the time and she helped a lot, and it went away. But at the beginning of 2013, it came at me once again, and it really hasn’t left since.

If any of this is a surprise to anybody, then I’d like to tell you that for people of depression, we usually try to hide it in front of others. We’ll tell you that we’re fine, and we’ll smile. We’ll throw you off our scent and you wouldn’t think twice about whether we’re really okay or not. But inside, we’re struggling. Perhaps you can distract us for a while, but when we go home, we’ll be crying. We’ll cover ourselves with our blankets and suffer in silence. That’s what I did. I told everyone I was fine when I could. I smiled whenever it was required. And I tried my best to pretend everything was okay. I still do it. But it’s a lot harder to do now.

When it first hit me again in 2013, I made sure I saw a counsellor at university. It helped until it didn’t, and I was doing miserably at university. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t get motivated to do assignments, or to attend lectures and classes. I was self-destructing. But I was still telling myself that I could push through. I started off well but finished the first semester badly. So I got myself enrolled in the DLU program (Disabilty liason unit) on advice from my counsellor. But life was about to throw me a curveball and I had some personal issues, and the stress very nearly ruined me. See, the thing was that even though I knew I had a problem, I didn’t do anything about it because I didn’t want to burden my family with it so I didn’t seek extra help, or tell anyone how I was feeling except for my counsellor occasionally. So I kept with the snowball effect… and ended up really low. I was in such a terrible place, I was unable to do any work. I stopped caring. I started very destructive behavior and I am lucky I came out unscathed. But I was at a very bad place. I was stressed out, worried, depressed and trying my best to distract myself from it. But it didn’t work and I just broke.

I can’t describe it any other way. I would start crying randomly. I would cry myself to sleep. I was always crying and I kept myself in my room. I couldn’t handle even the simplest thing anymore and to top it off, I was dangerously close to failing. Because of my arrogance, I let myself fall so far down, that even now, I don’t know if I could recover. But it was a wake up call.

I applied for time off from university. I booked myself an appointment with a gp I knew would understand my depression. I got myself on medication and that in itself was a difficult journey. The thing with medication is that one size does not fit all and I had to trial at two different ones. One of them made me dizzy and moody. I gained at least 5 kg because my appetite had become voracious. My head spun whenever I was standing up for more than 30 minutes. It was a good thing I took time off, because if I had pushed myself to go to a lab in that condition, I probably would’ve collapsed over an animal part.

But the biggest thing I did was make an appointment with a psychologist.

190814

19 Aug

Another sleepless night. They haven’t been happening as frequently as of late but… it seems that when I actually really need the sleep (I start class at 9am , have a group presentation and a full day) I can’t. And as usual, it’s because of a man. Or to be more precise, of men in general.

I feel like at this point, my heart is held together by bandaids. Each bandaid just a quick fix, destined to fall off, to weaken its hold. Another man, another bandaid. Another disappointment and further breakage. If my heart was a physical object, I would wonder why it hasn’t crushed to bits. I would wonder at all why I keep trying when the search for what I’m looking for is proving fruitless.

I won’t lie. I’ve dated a lot. I’ve gone on more first dates this year than I’ve got shoes. And jeez, I can’t say it’s been the best experience of my life. In fact, I’d even say I hate dating. I really do. And don’t tell me that I haven’t gone on enough dates or that I haven’t met the right guy. I’ve gone on dates with all sorts of guys. They all have different interests and occupations (or studies). I’ve gone on dates with ‘alphas’ and ‘betas’. I’ve gone to the movies, to pancake parlour, to Nobu and to the art gallery. I’ve tried dating guys I knew from uni, guys I’ve picked up at the bus stop and even online dating. But you know what, it’s mostly all ended up with me feeling the same way : hating men.

Maybe I should get a guidebook or something but men are confusing. They don’t really seem to know what they want. They’re not upfront about things or they just plain straight out lie. Maybe I’m going through dating the wrong way. Maybe I should’ve gone about it as if it was a game. Maybe I should be a cold icy bitch. Maybe I should always let the guy pay. Maybe I shouldn’t be honest and maybe I shouldn’t be myself. Maybe I should be docile and quiet. Because it seems as if I’m going about everything all wrong. Because it all ends the same way. Disappointing. Heartbreaking.

I can’t say I’m a romantic. I know that I won’t get flowers and I’ll be lucky if he even decides to pick up the bill for dinner. I know that he’ll talk about himself a bit too much and I’ll have to laugh (because it’s polite). I know that he won’t hold my hand or walk me home. I know not to expect too much. But perhaps it’s all these thoughts that are setting me up for failure.  Maybe that’s why I’ve been happy to settle for something less than what I truly deserve. Maybe that’s why even though I try my best for every relationship, my partner never does the same.

My last boyfriend (whom I broke up with recently) I probably shouldn’t have dated for as long as I did. My friends would ask, “Why are you dating him?” and I would tell them that he enjoys affection. He pays for dinner and he was polite with my family. Which is all well and good but… even I knew deep down that… I shouldn’t have stayed. Whilst he was good in some areas, in others, he was severely lacking in. The things that weren’t right… weren’t enough… If I had been the me before I became this broken, I wouldn’t have accepted. I would have just left it at that and I would’ve moved on.

But I didn’t. I stayed. I stayed through the doubts, and the problems. I stayed through the silence and I stayed long enough to let myself get hurt. And I wonder why? Why is it so hard to find magic? Why is it so hard to find someone who could like me for me? Why is so hard to find someone who wouldn’t use me? Why is it so hard to find someone who wants more than just a night of ‘fun’? Why is it so hard to find someone who is at least a little bit right?

All I want is a good guy. A guy good enough to be happy with. And no more sleepless nights. Please.

My grandfather.

7 Jun

My general impression is that when people reminisce about primary school, they start to think about all the fun times ; the lack of the piles of homework and the proud grins after conquering the monkey bars. My own impressions of primary school are mostly hazy save for this one very strong memory: the memories of going home as a prep- grade 3 student. Those years were the years that I was driven home by my grandfather.

If you’re wondering why the memories of my grandfather are the strongest… well, my grandfather passed away when I was in year 9. He was the first grandparent I had that passed away and it was the toughest death for me to deal with. We all knew he was weak but it still happened out of nowhere. I remember the day we found out better than the morning I just had. I remember the days that followed and the black cloud that just followed my family for the year that afterwards. I remember the pain and the heartache I suffered because even now, every time I think about him, I want to cry.

We had a family gathering tonight, as we usually do every saturday night, and the parents decided to start discussing primary school. My aunts want my youngest aunt to transfer her child to the primary school I went to as a child as she’s expecting her second child and they want the eldest closer so they can help with pick up. As I was listening to them discuss the school, my memory flashed to the memory of a warm hand. I remember the bony fingers clutching my own tiny fingers tightly. I remember my feelings of reluctance and I remember not wanting to hold that hand because none of the other kids held hands with their parent. I remember dragging my feet and feeling embarrassed because I wanted to be just like every other kid. I remember wishing that my mum or dad would pick me up just like everyone elses’ because it was my grandfather who picked me up. In the blistering summer heat, he would drive to my school in his old red car that had no air conditioner. He would wear his thick corduroy jacket because he was afraid of the sun’s rays. He would be extremely hot but he would still come to my school and wait outside my classroom for me. And I felt embarrassed by this.

As a child, I didn’t know any better. I was always getting bullied and all I wanted to do was become one of the popular kids. Now, I regret the way I acted. Now, I regret not chatting to him. Now, I regret the resentment I had against him as a child because now, even if I wanted to see him, I can’t and it breaks my heart. More than any pain I’ve ever received from a rejection; and even more than my biggest break up. My heart breaks to think that I took those moments for granted; that I hated those moments because now, I want them so badly.

I wish I could go back in time and make sure the childish me cherished the effort he put into picking me up. I wish I could go back in time and make sure I smiled at him when I saw him at the door instead of the disappointed frown I exhibited. I wish I could redo those moments because now they are impossible to replicate.

I guess I’m telling you this story because even though we’re all grown up now, I don’t know if you’re cherishing your moments. I don’t know whether you take the time your parents or grandparents give you for granted. Because I’m hoping you don’t. I’m hoping that you realise that the only guarantees we have in life are the past and now. Tomorrow or even the next hour might not even happen. We can’t predict the future. So treasure the time people give you. Treasure your family whether they’re biological or not. Put down your phones when you’re at dinner with them. Give them your full attention because they damn well deserve it. Don’t take them for granted because you never know when you might lose them and then spend the rest of your life crying about it like I do.

Protected: So this is it. My Secret.

9 Apr

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Moving.

9 Apr

It’s been awhile since my last post but I’m feeling stressed. And what do I do when I’m feeling overwhelmed? I write about it.

Geez… where to start though… Well. I’m moving this week. Yep. After nearly 20 years of being in the same suburb and living around the same people; I’m moving about a 15 minute drive away. It’ll take me an extra 20 minutes to get to university and I won’t be so close to the asian goodness that is Springvale anymore but it’s a quieter neighbourhood and I’ll finally be only sharing my bathroom with my sister… who I’m hoping will finally leave things where they belong and not take them into her room (I’ve gone through at least 5 pairs of tweezers!). However… it also means that I’ll need to downsize the amount of stuff I have. Right now my room is 5mx3m and I’ll be moving into a 2.5x2m room… which is a big downgrade. It means that I’ll have to somehow halve my clothing which should be easy as I always wear the same sort of stuff. But it’s not. I keep making excuses like “I’ll eventually want to wear this but if I throw it away, i’ll have to buy it again”. It doesn’t help it that my parents are telling me the same thing either. “Keep it, you’ll need it”. I might want it again some day, but at the same time my new closet space is only half of what i currently have so I have to throw things away and I don’t know how to do that. Tips please? or maybe just be the wise person by my side who doesn’t let me weaken my resolve? Aside from moving, there’s my confusion about my identity.

If you know me then you also know that I’m pretty much accepting of who I am and I’m not afraid to be me. Forget social cues and polite conversation, I can’t do either and I’ll talk your head off about the best dick size or I’ll be praising self-love. I knew who I was but now, I’m not so sure. I’m feeling lost and really confused about myself at the moment. If I thought you could handle it, I would’ve told you about this because this isn’t something that most people understand. In fact, I’d say that most people reject this. If that doesn’t give you a clue as to what I’m confused about then… well. let’s just say that if there were still witch hunts, I’d be on the top of the list.

It’s not exactly about my sexuality (bi/pansexual in case you were wondering) but it’s something else. it’s something else that is crucial to my identity. And I would love to be honest about it but I feel that if I did, there would be so much judgement left at my door. If I’m already not judged enough for who I am, then this would make it worse. This is worse than the confusion I was going through when I was coming out of the metaphorical closet. It’s stressful hiding who I am but at the same time, it’s stressful being who I am. I don’t want to be thinking about this new quality that I know about myself or at least think I know. If I didn’t already think I wasn’t a decent enough human being, then this will make it worse.

Sigh. Well there it is. That is me right now, sharing what I can to the world.

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