angst

The judgementals

by chics on Tuesday, 8 November 2011 - 8 am · 14 comments

in angst,life,stress

During my last appointment with my doctor he told me not to see any friends, only close friends were allowed. I do not understand this at first but now I could understand his reason.

When I came out with my confession, my intention was to share and let go but sadly to say they are many fucktards out there.

I should have known better.

Do you think I am asking for this to happen to me? Do you think all the money in this world and the ‘happiness’ around me can save me for what I am having now?

Yes, I blog and tell sorts of story but like I said there real story is buried deep inside of me. I am not the kind of person who is comfortable to expose my problems, especially if they are very personal. Well I did that once or few times but it backfired. Instead of getting support I was criticised. Not that I can’t take criticism just that when it came from someone who claimed themselves to be my friends and said it in a very rude and harsh way, well that’s not a friend to me.

Anyway, lesson learned.

Some said their situation is worst than mine and I should be thankful I have all the support around me. Perhaps I should be more grateful for what I have rather than being depress.

I did think of this, maybe I am ungrateful – after all I “have it all”; as they put it.

But then after a series of rethinking, I concluded,

Well fuck you.

 

I AM grateful.

I still have my faith in God.

I have loving parents.

I have loyal and very supportive close friends.

As well as supportive and kind readers.

I still have a husband who is very patient in taking my depressing and panicky calls.

 

I am seeking help because I do not want to be ungrateful. I do not want to cause worry to my loved ones.

 

Now, instead of weeping and pleading to God before going to sleep, I will thank Him for giving me another chance to live and I pray so hard that I will be normal again – so that I won’t be a burden to anyone.

 

Funny, I am the type of person who doesn’t give a shit about what people say about me [unless they matters to me] but this really ticks me off.

 

But then again, these people don’t know me and I do not want to know them either.

So, judge as much as you want.

 

To be fair, they are the minorities. The rest of you people out there are nothing but kind. Believe me, although you might say you can’t help much, you did.

 

You made me feel I will be ok and everything will be back to normal.

You made me feel loved.

 

Thank you.

 

14 comments

The recovering

by chics on Friday, 4 November 2011 - 9 am · 9 comments

in angst,emo,life,sadness,worries

Many thought as soon as I was discharged, I will be OK. In no time, I will be back to normal.

The truth is, it will take months for me to get back the old me and the road to recovery is not easy.

There will be days that I feel great and there will also be days when I feel I couldn’t carry on.

 

My doctor told me to fight any negative thoughts and made a schedule of I should do everyday. I did just that but they seemed useless.

 

The first week was the hardest.

 

The very next day after I was discharged, we [my husband, my mother in law, sister in law and I] went for a grocery shopping. In the middle of the tin food aisle, I cried and couldn’t stop weeping.

 

When my mother in law asked me why, I told her I felt confused, lost and scared. I also feel stupid because I could not understand what is happening.

 

The medication I was on was the one that made me feel stupid. I was unable to focus and will feel nausea in the morning. It also controls my mind not to think too much. As the result I can easily feel mentally drained as if I had been working on some projects of paperworks for days.

I was well informed about the side effects but I was told to start living my life like normal by my doctor.

 

My first attempt to force my brain, I decided to cook lunch for my husband. It was a simple dish – ayam masak merah, a dish that I can complete with one eye close. But I found myself struggling to remember what to do next and how to do it.

 

I managed to complete them but after that I couldn’t do anything else.

 

The other side effect of the medicine is, I notice I can no longer feel, especially sadness.

 

A day before my husband left for Pakistan, I received a call from my mum telling my my auntie was in coma and she had only 12 hours to live. I remember lying down on my bed waiting for sadness to invade me. Instead I feel numb, but I still cry.

I didn’t go to visit her in the hospital because I think I might collapse.

She died the next day.

I cried but the sadness is barely there.

I decided not to attend the funeral, I don’t think I can take it.

 

The same day my husband went back to Pakistan, usually I will cry until I choke but this time, not a single tear was shed. I thought to myself, am I going to permanently  be  emotionally impaired?

 

The days after he left, I just lie down on bed, stare at the the ceiling and smoke. I felt so empty, lonely, lost and sometimes cheated.

I will feel these feelings from time to time. It scares me that one day, when I wake up, all my efforts. the assurance and the comfort that I am getting will just be some big fat lie.

I have tried to avoid taking the relaxant because they can cause addiction but I started taking them regularly, when I don’t take them, I smoke weed.

 

This week is my second week, things are better. I  started to bake and went outside to settle stuff. My brain is still tired, usually it will shut down after 3 pm.

But I will keep on trying to train them but with no rush.

 

Do I still have suicidal thought? Sometimes, but the thoughts were not so intense anymore.

 

I have received so many emails, messages, comments and sms from my readers and friends. Although I did not reply them, but I really really appreciate them. It took me some time to read them because of my inability to focus but I do read all of them.

Thank you, for now I am unable to reply them but somehow I am glad to know I am not alone.

 

The reason why I came out with the entries is not because I want sympathy.

I want to let go.

I also want people to know, it is OK to suffer from depression. You are not crazy or making things up. There is nothing to be ashamed of.

People will always talk, let them go to hell.

 

If I choose to succumb to the societal stigma, I probably would be dead by now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

9 comments

The hospital

by chics on Thursday, 3 November 2011 - 8 am · 4 comments

in angst,life,sadness,stress,worries

My memory of the hospital was foggy since I was on drugs most of the time. I can’t remember much.

 

But I do remember hugging my mum and tell her how sorry I was for burdening her. She cried and hugged me back and said

“It’s OK. We just want you to get better”

When my parents went home, my doctor [the psychiatrist - I had two doctors attending to me at that time] came to me and told me he had explained everything to my parents and tell me not to worry, just rest.

 

But he did ask me to do one thing, to call my husband and tell him my condition.

I cried telling him I couldn’t do it. He must not know.

I cannot show to him that I am am not strong.

But the doctor insisted.

 

After contemplating for about few hours, I decided to call him. I was scared and anxious to tell him the news because I do not know how he will take it.

He flew back the very next day.

 

That night, the nurse put me on two drips – the first one was water [I think] and the other one was nutrients – my second doctor was worried about my health since I have not been eating proper meals for weeks. I also did not take my meals that they served me in the hospital.

When the nurse poked my hand, she asked me whether it hurt, I told her, I can take any pain, the real pain is not there, it is somewhere else. She just smiled and told me to rest.

 

I was given 4-5 pills, 3 times a day. Later I learned they were vitamins, anti-depressent  [Lexapro], relaxant [Lorazepam] and a sleeping pill.

Yes, I was a bit relaxed but I was still feeling anxious and depress. I still couldn’t sleep in peace.

 

One night, I felt so confused. I know I was supposed to relax but why was I still feeling lost and helpless? Why was the pain still there?

Somehow, one of the nurses forgot to pick up the medication case, the one that hold the pills- just like panadol. I picked them up and start to cut my hand with them. Like the knife, it was blunt so I had to try few times until I saw few marks. Not too deep but enough to make me feel satisfied.

Later, when everybody else were sleeping, a nurse in a pink sweater came to my bed. She asked me if I was ok and whether or not I needed anything that can help me to sleep.

I showed her my hand and I told her about what I did. She asked me why did I do that?

“I want to feel other pain, not the one I am feeling now”

She then went through my things to look for any sharp objects. I cannot remember what she found but after that she sat on my bed, hold my hands and told me not to do it anymore. She made me promise not to do it and I can always call her if I want to talk or to share anything.

I asked her the same question I asked my doctor, am I crazy? What is wrong with me? Why am I like this?

Can’t remember what  her answer was but the next day, she gave me a stronger sleeping pill – diazepam [valium].

My bed was also surrounded by braces both sides so that I won’t fall or do anything. I had to press the button to call the nurse every time I wanted to use the toilet. 1

 

Few friends visited me but I only allowed close friends who have seen me in a shitty condition before. Shelly [who was so supportive!], Tina and Nikkit if I am not mistaken. Others than that were my family members – parents, my brother and his wife, sister in law and my mother in law.

My husband would accompany me everyday and when I didn’t feel like eating, he would feed me so I would not starve. We talked a lot.

 

After almost a week, my doctor think it was safe to let me go home but I had to promise to take my medicines and I had to promise not to hurt myself anymore.

And I had to come for appointments every two weeks as well.

 

I know few people have been calling and smsing asking which hospital I was admitted to because they wanted to pay me a visit but I was not ready to meet anyone.

In fact, I am still not ready.

 

At the moment, I am only meeting my close friends and family [because the doctor made me promise this as well]. I am slowly picking up on my baking so please be patient with me if there is a bit delay in replying to emails.

 

Yes, it’s true that I am out from the hospital but I am still not cured.

I am not sure myself when I will be completely cured.

 

  1. One day, when Tina and Nikkit visited me, I tried to pull the braces down instead, the drips on my hand came out and the doctor had to puncture my other hand [heh!

4 comments