A summary of living inside a black hole. (Chapter 9-11).
I'm writing this specifically as a journal to myself, in my blog. I may or may not regret this but writing is my current respirator and here I am trying to embrace the air once again, one slow-deep breath at a time.
CHAPTER 9: The Good and the Bad.
The memory of me smiling while standing in front of the pile of my dirty laundry was something that I’ve held close to my heart until today. A few weeks ago, I had a similar moment but I was on a bike cycling around my apartment complex while watching the equally vibrant sunset—which was lovely. Within the first week of medication, I could finally sleep like a baby, my heartbeat started to regularize, and most importantly, my mind didn’t wander all the way back to the past all the time. It kept me in the present and even when the triggers happened, it didn’t agitate me as much as it used to. It felt like there was a layer of calmness starting to build itself to become my shield if that makes sense.
What I meant by sleeping like a baby didn’t only happen during the nighttime. Lol. During weekdays, I had to drink a few cups of coffee in the morning—which is something that I’ve avoided for a long time so my anxiety would not be disrupted—to wake myself up and on my lunch break, I actually had to take a nap because I felt like the energy in my body was giving up. Saturdays and Sundays basically became a ‘sleep whole day’ kind of day. Forget about writing, my creativity was blocked and everything became completely simplified. Don’t get me wrong, simplicity is good for me to carry on the daily tasks that used to seem overwhelming to me. But as a writer, it felt like a perpetual blockage and it did scare me for a moment.
After a brief consultation, my shrink lowered the dose of the prescription down to only 1/3 of it and it worked out well. I didn’t feel sleepy as much and could start writing almost as normal. The last time I took one of the medicines was in August and it was half dose of anti-depressant. To really think about it, the pills that I took might not cure me entirely, which is completely fine as they have different effects on different cases. But what I’m going to keep in mind is that they have unlocked a beautiful moment of realization that I could finally see a sunrise after a long dark winter, as if the Arctic in February. The best part is even if the cycle repeats, I know I’ll be ready to handle it.
CHAPTER 10: Credits to Us.
Going a little back to my shrink's room during the first appointment, in between the teary consultation, she took a moment to pause and asked me to listen. With a pressing tone, she said that I’m incredible. Even with all the chronicity of the diagnosis, I could still keep going until today and actually made it into her room. According to her, patients like me usually aren't able to function. Let alone holding a job like I do. I understood what she meant because honestly to me, living through the day used to feel like I’m a wrecked car being operated with only half part of a working engine with a constant blinking fuel light. Apparently, what I’ve been capable of doing in my social life is because I’m being high-functioning. Am I grateful for that? Sure, I am! So, I guess one credit to me. Yay!
Some people are destined to heal others. Yes, I know that she’s literally a doctor and that’s her job, but I also know a person who has gone to different psychiatrists in tens of years due to ineffectiveness. Before getting into talking about my job or vocation, she said that I must be a creative person and my imaginative mind is one of the strongest tools in my survival kit. This is something that I’ve never discussed with anybody but she saw that right through. Or maybe it’s because she had dealt with a bunch of other little pricks with a similar case like mine. Hahaha. But the point is she’s able to see through me, shook the iceberg, and opened up the sky, which was incredible. For all of the blessings that I’ve received from her, she definitely deserves solid credit.
There were words and acts that echoed love, support, and more. They came from the people who have once occupied my side. But sadly, I couldn’t see the kindness as it was. To me, those were only done to right their wrongs so they could hurt me more. Talking about self-sabotage at its best. I don’t blame them for driving away and it’s probably for the best. But some have stayed until now and boy I don’t have the courage to ask why would they stick around. If it’s not clear enough, the purpose of going to the shrink isn't just to fix me. The length goes to the people around me as well, so I can stop prying them off, be able to see the goodness, and open up to new relationships. The ones who stay have shown supports in my endeavour despite it’s not their cup of tea and keeps cheering me on. I am grateful for you and thank you for loving me through the lightless days. This credit goes to you.
CHAPTER 11: The Billboard Named ‘Today’
Whenever the PTSD episode happens, it feels like my personal Pandora’s Box being opened and the Epimetheus to that box is my memories. I would give in to those moments helplessly, evaluating my whole life and progress; even my mind would go back to the balcony I was standing on in 2015. Regretting why I didn’t do it. When it’s shut back down, I would recollect myself and tuck the box under my arm. Right now, I’m standing at an intersection. I can still see that giant billboard sign of farewell to the serotonin town on the left side. But I notice that there’s a new one called 'Today’ on the right side, which I’ve never seen before all of these years. The road under that billboard is freshly paved and it’s because of the help that I’ve received.
‘Today’ doesn’t only mean the present day but it’s a new ability to see myself to carry on. The thought of being able to live the next day is actually a significant improvement to my depressive ass. What if one day I get to see the ‘Five Years from Now’ or even ‘Ten Years from Now’? Today I’m holding that box gently with my both hands and despite not knowing when it’s going to reopen, I’m fine with it. I’m accepting the fact that the long dark winter surely will happen again but so does February.
The recollection of my present leads me to the path where I’m trying to be more open to the opportunities that I used to purposely miss because I've been busy surviving. I’ve said more ‘yes’ to many hangouts and finished my screenwriting course successfully in April 2021. I’m trying to enjoy the present time without stressing it out. I'm working on reigniting the dreams that I’ve thrown away a few years ago. Also, I’m working on being emotionally available so any good person who enters my life doesn't have to walk on an eggshell and that’s because I'm in control over my fucked-up parts.
There are things to unlearn as many as to learn. It’s like a shit stain, to be honest. The physical cause is gone but the mark and the smell linger. On the surface of this new task, I need to accept that some people can mean well and if that doesn’t happen, it’s not my fault. I need to keep in mind that revenge brings more suffering than satisfaction. And most importantly, I need to plaster onto my forehead that this is my life; I’m allowed to be happy and I don’t need to rush with anything even with the time.
I’m inching slowly towards the start line of the new chapter that my shrink had opened for me almost a year ago now. I’m throwing the agony bit by bit to the depth of Tartarus so I can cherish with my present, my gift. I get to carry on with my new version of tomorrow and I’m absolutely looking forward to it.
Until then,
Iredon
;
Comments