Health: Coping Up - Depression & Anxiety

Since it's out, I just want to share a story.

Four years ago, when Ate was diagnosed with CKD, we're all pressured to come up with all the money we can get for her medication, hospitalization and dialysis. We sought help from friends and family. Ate's hospital expenses then was sky high. We need to come up with a certain amount every freaking week. And the amount was not even equal to how much I am paid for at work. Imagine the stress it brought me then. I always cry at work but co-workers only saw me cry once. My siblings never saw me shed a tear. Tita Sette saw me cry once.

I almost quit life then. Everything was too heavy for me to carry.

What I did? Instead of my usual bus ride to Biñan (Jac Liner), I rode a bus to Lucena. Just a random bus ride. Just to think and breathe and cry. I once found myself in San Pablo too. And in Batangas, Novaliches, Bulacan, Dau, Pampanga, and in Fairview. Remember my story about talking to strangers? If I can't talk it out, I would find a seat at the end of the bus, earphones in and cry.

I can't burden people around me of how I feel because Ate's case is much more difficult than mine and people around me has their own problems to deal with too. But in cases as such, I don't think I'd still be here if I didn't do anything then and just allowed the situation to swallow me whole.

I have lost tons of hankies and face towels all soaked up in tears, and that's all I can do then. Ate never knew of how it was for me. Up until her last days, she never knew about my illness. My other sister thinks of my illness differently. She never took it seriously, but I am okay with that. My brother, well, he is still my brother regardless if he knew it or not. Mama? Never had any idea about it. No one knew until recently. Well, except the strangers I've shared it with.

My point is, mentall illness doesn't have to look like you are crazy, messy, recluse, disheveled, sad and mad. You could be the happiest person on Earth but is dealing with it silently. And it doesn't have to be that way. Whenever I see someone share stories that I felt I went through, I urge them to seek professional help or talk it out with anyone. 

And for you people, not everyone who is sad or is showing signs and symptoms of depression and anxiety wants to get you attention. Most of the time, we don't. We prefer to say we're fine than be told that we're attention-seeker, that we lack faith, that we're just tired and all other lame words you can call us. We want to be heard. The silence itself is a message that we want to scream all out. That all we want someone to go beyond the "how are you - I'm fine" convo. That we want our conversations to be longer than that. That we want to talk. If we refuse to talk about how we are feeling, our REAL feelings, please do respect it. It is very difficult for us to come out in the open letting people know that we are ill, much more to discuss it with you. Talk to us about any other things. Let us open up and discuss it with you in our own time. We need to warm up too, you know. 

Please do not give up on us the same way that we don't want to give up on ourselves. Suicide is the very last thing on our mind, believe me. 

Health: Depression And Anxiety

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.”