It’s not going to kill me. 5 tablets is far from killing me. It’s the thought that scares me.
What if one day I’ll down 12 tablets?
What if one day I decide one cut is enough, but that cut goes in a millimetre too deep?
The thoughts are back.
The voices are back.
The tears are back.
This time, I’m not sure how to stop it.
She’s talking to angels, she’s counting the stars. She’s making a wish on passing cars. She’s dancing with strangers, she’s falling apart.
I painted this when words failed me. When words become superfluous and emotions are all that show. Raw, hurting emotions just waiting to burst out. Caged and stuffed into a small container, like a shaken bottle of pop.
Don’t send me away, I promise I’ll improve, please. Please, I’m not that messed up, I’m not that bad. Please don’t send me away to some facility. I don’t want to leave school either. What’s wrong, am I not making enough progress for you?
Am I getting too much of a burden?
Am I getting in everyone’s way?
What’s wrong, why am I not getting better?
Is this not enough?
Am I trouble and too much to handle that you need me to think about a higher level care? I promise I’ll work harder, I’ll push through, I’ll force myself. Please don’t send me away. Please….
I drew this. It was quite cathartic. I’m in that phase again. Where I doubt everything. Maybe it was my bad scores that pushed me over this time. Maybe it’s just me. I don’t know. I’m doubting everything now. I’m doubting that I really want to recover. I’m doubting that I’m going to ever recover. I”m doubting that I’ll ever be normal. No, I’m never gna be normal – you all know that… Crying spells and everything is coming down towards me again. This time I don’t cut. No, I’m smarter than scars now. It’s black and green and blue. It wont last, it’s not as painful. But it seems to help. Or maybe I’m the one needing help. Help. Please. I’m losing it.
My second consultation with a psych and psychiatrist here was interesting. I felt a want, almost a need to tell them that I am recovered and all right. But maybe that’s just me kidding myself right? School’s about to start soon and my nerves are firing again. What if I collapse in class, hyperventilating, having a panic when everyone thinks it’s a seizure? I missed two doses of my medication on accident and I find myself nauseous and light headed. If this is the beginning of my relapse, I’m frankly afraid to think about what’s going to happen when school starts. I worry again. I mean, it’s just like having a cramp. Once you get rid of the cramp, you start to be paranoid in how you walk or how you stretch in case you trigger it again.
What’s the trigger? Stress? Loneliness? I find myself looking out into the ominous night just wondering what the hell did I put myself through in the past few years.
To be honest and truthful, the only word that can describe me right now is : afraid.
Taken with my 60D when I flew on a hotair balloon with my family. It was 1000ft above the ground and do not estimate me when I say how tempting it was to just casually tip over the basket and free fall down to nothing. It takes confidence and pride, dignity and love to continue life.
It was dark times and I don’t ever want to go there again. I still see blades that can slice into my skin everywhere I go. I still feel a tad bit suicidal every time an opportunity passes. I’m scared because I feel so alone. When depression overwhelms you, you start to believe that you’re the only one in the world who cares for you – which is not true. And the worst part of the day is right before you try to sleep, when there’s nothing to distract you and there’s nothing to make you busy, and all that’s left to entertain you is the thoughts that you’ve managed to push out during the day. The thoughts that haunt you even in your sleep. You only realize how precious things are when you’re about to lose them or when you’ve actually lost them. Don’t wait until it’s too late…
Sorry for taking ages to write again. Remember how I always emphasize that recovery is a baby step at a time? Well… it felt like a giant step for me two days ago. Few days ago, I visited a counselor here. It felt so strange, so different, so… foreign… I was stepping into foreign land. I had no idea what I was going into. And during the initial consultation, I was as stiff as ice. I had to recount my experiences from day one. I had to tell her everything about me. It took me so long that I think the consultation took at least two hours. Lots of gaps where I just could not speak.
At the end of the session, all I wanted to do was go into the bathroom and cry. (which i did.) All i could think of was, “please do not let this happen all over again”. I walked out into the sunlight and watched bikes roll by and people laughing. I saw students sitting on the lawn with their ears plugged. and all I could feel was dread. Dread. It’s like the second part of learning how to walk, it’s the part where your mum and dad lets go of your hands and you have to take the next few steps on your own. When that happens, I know I’ll fall. I’ll fall maybe once or twice, or maybe I’ll keep falling. I’ll have bloody knees and scraped elbows. I’ll have bruises and concussions. But i’ll learn slowly. I know I’ll be able to walk again. I don’t know if one can ever fully recover from depression. I sure hope it’s possible. It’s been my journey for the past year – my hand was held by people who supported and cared for me. It’s time I learned to do that myself. It feels impossible, doesn’t it? It’s always clouded in doubt. But maybe, just maybe, this too shall pass…
Hugs and Love,
Its scary. But its amazing. Maybe not everyone of you have a chance like i do, to be away from everything.
When I was suicidal, standing where i stood taking this picture would be a nightmare. Now, i stand before the city, facing my new future with brightened hope.
I recently landed in San Fransisco, ready to start my new life in UC Davis. Usually, having a clear day with the sun out at Twin Peaks is a rare opportune. Today was a brilliant day, what can i say? I miss my physical support groups that are still left in Singapore. My dearest counselor, my little x.mei, my lovely kiwi. But i know they’re still behind me in what i do. I havent lost a support group, im moving forward, and im comforted to know that they’re always going to be there anytime i need. Distance is just a small matter 🙂
New beginnings are brilliant arent they? But no more hiding. If others asked, i’ll proudly show my battle scars (hahaha i hope im brave enough). If im brave enough, you are too
Don’t you know? Don’t you know things can change. Things’ll go your way if you hold on for one more day. Can you hold on for one more day? Things’ll go your way. Hold on for one more day
The quote above is from a song called “Hold On” by Wilson Phillips. Judging by the pop music from the 21st century, this song isn’t the most catchiest of songs. But the lyrics caught me. While listening to it on the radio, it hit right on home. I’ve faced suicide attempts three times and each one more traumatic than the last. It’s still extremely hard to think about them in detail. I could still remember every single thought that ran through my mind. I could still remember the ringing in my own ears. Suicide isn’t a solution to this, there’s more to life than this.
For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.
IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR A SIGN THAT TELLS YOU NOT TO ATTEMPT OR COMMIT SUICIDE, THIS IS IT.
Hold on for one more day. Hold on for one more moment. You’re stronger than you believe. Mental disorders are liars, they tell you that you’re weak, you’re unloved and you’re at a dead end. Stay strong, and stay positive. Please, if you think tonight’s the night to do it, please please please, send me a message. I’ll talk to you. Be strong