Hi, I am Ivy. I am depressed. And this is the first time I am talking (writing) about this.
No. I am not depressed because I am sad. I am depressed. Clinically diagnosed. I am a highly functional depressed person. An anxious one.
Almost a decade ago, I have been combating this emptiness. I thought I was just sad because of some things. But no. The sadness went on for months. It affected my work. It affected my daily living. I get sad for no apparent reason. I feel empty just because I feel empty. I get mad and angry for the slightest reason. I seldom feel genuine happiness. I had several suicidal thoughts -- to gulp down acid, to overdose (tried it with a pain reliever), to cut myself (tried little cuts on me, scars are gone except for one, an accidental cut), and the worst was I thought of getting myself in an "accident" at the highway or the railroad just outside the subdivision. But I can't let that happen. I am afraid of getting hurt physically and to have Mama suffer all the consequences of those thoughts. So I resort to sleeping to forget everything. I felt the need to sleep everything off so I won't feel anything. I skipped work because I don't want to mingle with people, because I want to sleep until I can sleep no more. It went on for several months.
No one knew that I sought help. I searched online where I can get help. I tried with the 'regular' doctors but all they can diagnose me with is the usual sickness -- allergies, cough, colds, flu and the likes. I knew it was not my problem. I searched online where I can get help. I kept on repeating to myself that I am not crazy, just a little bit messed up in the brain. So I did seek help. I had two to three meds at one time then. (Paula, if you get to read this, this was around the same time when I stopped buying us pizza. Remember we always had pizza delivered then almost every week. Mona, if you'll come across this, this was around the same time I stopped sending allowance to Mama). I had several sessions with Psychs then. We went back to the time that I first felt this.
I learned that I have to talk and share this with anyone, with someone and not just keep everything bottled up. Having this is costly. If you do not have the means to support meds and sessions, you will not get better. Or so I thought. Being the stubborn me, I stopped the meds gradually. I stopped the weekly sessions. I just stopped everything that the doctors told me to do.
What I did?
I started to talk to people. Random ones. In the cinema, at the mall, at the waiting shed, in the bus, in the train. Anywhere where I can find someone who is willing to talk -- more of listen -- without judgment. I seldom talk to people I know because they always mistook it as sadness, as being introvert or worse, they would think that I am doing it just to get attention.
No. None of those. It is not what people think it is.
Up until now, I am still a depressed person. An anxious one. Every anxiety attack needs to be addressed. I need to let it out. Tell the next person or the person who caused me to be anxious of how I feel. It would oftentimes last for days. I need to go through it and fight it off myself. But I have learned how to deal with it without causing any disturbance to people around me. I have learned how to control my emotions - the outburst and the lack of it. I would cry non-stop or would laugh/cry for any other reason. Or would laugh-cry myself to sleep. I still think of my death but will leave it up to God when my time would come. I am already done with the auicide phase. Yes, I still resort to sleeping. If I ghost you or cancel a scheduled hangout with friends or (intentionally) miss a family gathering, it is because I want to be alone and deal with whatever is going on with my disturbed mind. Or sleep.
Social media is a helpful tool. I can express how I feel at that very moment. Sometimes, people think it was directed to them (well, if the shoe fits, you know what to do), but most of the time it is my anxious self expressing how I am feeling.
This is not easy. I am not the easiest person to deal with, with or without this mental madness - I address my state as mental madness, but don't be scared, I am not capable of hurting anyone physically. But I am trying myself to be the best normal self that I can be. All I am asking is for people around me, friends, family and colleague, is to be aware that this is real and is happening. Mental illness is an issue. It is not like any other disease that will manifest physically. I, myself, is known to be an expressive person. I am happy and (friendly) 'masungit' at times but I am battling depression. We don't need people to pity us because of this. We need people to be more understanding and compassionate of what we go through.
“I have depression. But I prefer to say “I battle” depression instead of “I suffer” with it. Because depression hits, but I hit back. Battle on.”
