Don’t get me wrong, but this is something that is yet to survive. And this writing will be my proof of progression. This will not end, for this too is a work in progress.
Emotions were peaking recently, dwelling into two, extreme sadness and sadness, no in-between. I don’t know where to pick up my first broken piece, maybe it’s scattered all over the place, torn in a million possible ways. I don’t know. I admit, I’m lost again, I’m feeling stagnant again, no better word would make me believe in life again. Maybe today is just like the other day, I think I want to die again, yet here I am, writing all the lost words I can’t seem to find.
Bearing all these familiar feelings I can’t seem to explain. But I felt empty.
Empty.
For the longest time.
I know I am not alone, but being alone is just too tiring you just want to die.
There are days that I function like a normal person would do. I do chores, I go shopping, I go to work, I eat outside, spend time with family and friends, but whenever everything is gone and I’m back to being alone again, I want to die, and wanting to die seems to be like an ordinary episode of my life.
It happens every day.
Every day.
But the thought of dying hits differently, sometimes I tell myself that it’s okay to die, people will just cry and mourn, and these thoughts won’t just disappear, they kept on coming over again, they knew when would I be vulnerable.
Most days seemed to be shorter, and nights longer. Sometimes, in the middle of lying in bed, minutes later I can find myself driving all over the city, with lights turned into high beams, crying, self-reflecting, begging the Almighty to just give me peace of mind and a heart full of eagerness to live. But most days, no matter how difficult it is to live, I chose to live.
It took me some time to write my story, but this is my story. Fancy looking on the outside, happy, positive, but on the inside, only God knows and my psychiatrist.
But don’t get me wrong, weeks after being prescribed my medication there are days too that I’m afraid as to why I’m having these, am I that lonely that I had these pills? But no, a friend told me to not let pharmacology define me as a person. And that’s true, absolutely true.
I have been wanting to seek help for the longest time, as long as I can remember, I’ve been depressed for too long, but I hesitated to take that one step. I was afraid, afraid of what was there for me.
I learned to hide my emotions, then I started to feel numb that I forget emotions do exist. But believe me, being able to face your fears, confronting head-on with your anxieties and all the thoughts that kept you awake, was the bravest decision you would ever make.
Accepting that something is not right with you is brave, and choosing to live every time you would want to die is braver.
Just because I carry it well doesn’t mean it isn’t heavy.
It has been four months since, everything seems to be smooth sailing. Yes, my eyes became blurred at times because of my medication but it made me see what was real, my hair started falling but I still wore a crown, my balance became off but it made me stood straight, my hands shivered a lot but it made me pray harder.
I have come to realize that, the happiness that we felt comes from the inside, we can not get it from other people or the material things that we wish we have. Once we decide to be truly happy and accept the things that may be unacceptable for a while, we can find the meaning of all the meaningless and find strength despite being weak. Even while dying, despite and in-spite being crumpled and downhearted, miserable and depressed, there’s always that little hope and that little faith that we need to water every day to grow.
Don’t be carried away by the social stigma, you just have to accept that not all things are within our control, even our own emotions, our despair, our grudges, and the tiny voices inside our head that shouts at us during our weakest.
There’s always hope. And help is always available. I found mine online. Visit them at Prescription Psychiatrist and Psychologist. This is not paid, I just want us all to heal from the things that we don’t want others to see.
Not everyone is suffering loudly. But we are all in pain. So be a little more kind towards the quite ones, for their pain has no sound. – Swati Barik
The beginning of acceptance 