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jassieajoc · 8 years ago

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Dim

I can still remember the very first time I had an anxiety attack. It was a morning on the way to school, I was with my kuya and our driver. I was still in 3rd Grade that time and I can still remember the sudden anxious feeling, It was like the whole world was swallowing me alive. I can still remember myself being so confused. I didn’t know what was happening to me, I was doing okay and the next time I knew I was being paranoid. I felt shitty that day. That day something grew in me. Something foolish and dark. And I didnt know that that something would be the start of my fucking life.

The first time I hurt myself was when I reached High School. Freshman year. Still so clueless of the world ahead of me. Still so innocent of the things I havent tried yet. So eager to try. So naive to care. I was having so fun but deep inside I was lost. I was scared. I was too ignorant that I forgot to think that there would always be a consequence. You see, thats the downside of having fun. The downside of being so happy. There would always be a fucking consequence. I got so insecure. I got so selfish. I thought my family didnt love me anymore. I thought I was going so bad that I became mad and then I got rebellious. I started cutting myself. I tried drinking alcohol. It was the start of losing myself. Sophomore Year came. I was doing okay. I wasnt as bad as I was. But I was as lost as before. The sad nights were still there. I got called names. Bitch. Slut. I got called names for being too friendly. For trying to distract myself from my evil self. Now im back again on hurting myself. This time, I would stay up all night thinking foolish thoughts. I would cut myself again but this time I cut my legs so that its easy to hide. I did foolish things in school again. But it was the kind of fun that makes you forget you are sad. I was doing okay after that but im still lost as ever.

The first time I had a suicidal thought was when I was still 11 yrs. old. Following the first time I started hurting myself. I had it all planned. I would hang myself and leave my suicide note below me. I already even wrote the fucking note when my mom went inside my room and saw it. And it was the first time I saw my mom, broken. I broke my mom. After it happened, people knew about it. I was more ashamed when they told me I was being stupid. They thought I was just fooling around that time. That I did it to have the things that I want. They told me I was just being spoiled. That Im too young to take things seriously. Too young to feel sad. Thats when I started being careful. Every time I feel lonely and sad, I would keep it all to myself. Scared that people might tell me im stupid again. I dont wanna broke my mom again. I dont wanna be a burden just because im thinking I really am a burden.

It was Junior Year when I got called names again. This time it was more hurtful. Sometimes they would tell it to my face. Sometimes just by the look from their faces I would already know —“what a bitch”. Maybe I was really a bitch. Maybe they were right. Maybe they’re not ones who were insecure, maybe I was. I started blaming myself. “Stop fooling yourself” “You’re not good enough” “You dont have the right to feel bad. You’re the one who’s doing it to yourself”. Then that was the time i realized, I have the shittiest self-esteem ever. Ive tried a lot of things this year. Lots of firsts. Crazy, fun, dangerous, and shitty things. I also started making myself look good. Feel good. But in the midst of all that, Im still losing myself. I was lost than before. I wanted everyone to love me. I wanted them to notice me. What the hell am I doing? “This wasn’t me”, I tell to myself. No matter how hard I try to be better, self-hate always wins. I was still hurting myself during these moments but this time it was quite different ‘cause a friend knows and im glad that despite all this negative things, someone cares. Up until this very moment Im still thankful for that friend. You know who you are, and God knows how grateful I am to have a friend like you. I couldn’t remember some serious (negative) things during Senior Year. It was a smooth sail. But not the smoothest ‘cause i still had fights with my ex boyfriend. I got so worried about my grades. I was stressed doing schoolworks. But to add it all up it was a great year. So great that I thought I was doing okay. I thought I had overcome that feeling. But little did I know, it was just hiding at the back of my mind.

The first time I tried killing myself was when I reached College. Funny how the older I get, the more serious it became. See when I said I thought I was doing okay? Wrong. Little bitch was just resting. Waiting to attack me. It was gone for a year but the moment it came back, it was stronger. It was all over me. Now that Ive been carrying this bitch for almost 6 years now I think its time for me to give it a name. Lets call it, Dim. Why Dim? Well you see, the word dim means having a limited or insufficient amount of light, seen indistinctly, perceived by the senses or mind indistinctly or weakly. And dim is the perfect word to describe what im feeling all these years. The feeling of darkness. Dim wasn’t really that strong at first. He was quiet. He was as if trying to be friends with me. It was my first year of college so I was busy doing homeworks. Trying to figure out how college life works. First sem done and I thought I became friends with Dim already. Until he betrayed me. My boyfriend that time and I broke up. My whole world was shuttered. I was so down and Dim was the only one who was always there with me, so I let him take over my life. That was the time when I started avoiding people. I refused to go out, I stopped going to my classes. I was so scared. 2nd sem was a blur. A complete blur. Summer came and it was… okay. I guess. It was the start of fucking up my life. Walwal dito, walwal doon. Landi doon, landi dito. I was sooo lost that I forgot to have some respect for myself. All I can say is, that was the wildest summer that I had. I bet ya’ll waiting for the part where I tried to kill myself. Then here you go. January 2017, I had the worst anxiety attack ever. It was so bad I thought I was going insane. I called the suicide hotline but guess what they told me? THEY TOLD ME TO GO TO THE NEAREST HOSPITAL. Great. There I was crying hysterically on my bed. Alone. There I was wanting to end my fucking life and ya’ll gonna tell me to go to the nearest hospital? Crazy. So yeah, I had the pills on my hand when I thought “Am I really gonna end my life just because Im scared? Just because I didnt know what was happening to me?” Then I called 911. They asked me whats the problem and I only told them one word, “suicide”. They asked me who and that was the moment I broke down, I told them, “ako po”. I can hear them panicking and then there was silence on the other line. Then an another woman talked to me. I told her everything I felt that day and she told me nice things to make me feel better. We had a good talk and I was crying the whole time. She somehow convinced me that suicide is not always the answer. I owe her my life. Fast forward to March 2017, I got sick. I got bacterial infection —not STD, from someone whom I loved so much. For the second time, my mom cried in front of me. For the second time, I saw my mom broken. I broke my mom, again. I became lost more than ever. I was so ashamed of myself. I was so angry. Why do I always fuck up? Ganyan na ba talaga ako ka bobo?

The second time I tried killing myself was 2 months later, I started falling for this guy. Who lied to me. I was a mistress the whole time, and I didnt know. My mom eventually knew about it because the wife was a pyscho —Sorry not sorry. I disappointed my parents. AGAIN. Only in a span of 2 months I was a disappointment, again. You see, Dim was winning this time. He was already bigger than me. He was all over my room. He was all over the building. He was all over me. That was when I took the pills. I can only remember myself falling asleep and the next thing I know I was at the hospital. After 7 years of dealing with that bitch Dim, I was finally diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder. After 7 years of trying to hide the pain, my parents finally knew about it. After 7 years, my friends finally realized that I wasn’t fooling around. I wasn’t being overdramatic. There were pros and cons to this situation. Pros, they finally knew about my depression so they were overly understanding. I felt free. It felt like nothing is holding me back anymore. It felt like I finally won over Dim. I felt stronger than Dim. Cons, they finally knew about my depression so they were overly protective and hella paranoid, thinking I might blew up in any moment. Even though I felt free and stronger than Dim, I can still feel his presence. I still feel weak. Ive been seeing my doctor every 2 weeks now. Im taking meds. People are helping me. Months have passed and I thought I was really okay now. I thought I had it under control until 3 months later, I can feel him all over me again. It seems like the pills are not working anymore. I started keeping secrets from my doctor. I started telling lies to my family and friends just so they wont worry about me anymore. Im even back on hurting myself. I cut my wrists and legs. I tried overdosing myself again. Twice this time. It gets worse everyday. Its seems like Dim knows my weak spots now, he knows where and when to hurt me. I keep blaming myself even on the smallest things. Sometimes I think, what if Im going insane? What if Im never going to be okay? I dont even know anymore.

I didnt write any of these so that you’ll pity me. I didnt write any of these to make ‘papansin’. I didnt write any of these so that you’ll know my story. I wrote this so that all of you people who are reading this can understand. I want you guys to understand that depression is never a joke. Depression isn’t easy, it never was. I want you to understand that even the smallest things can hurt a person a thousand more. I want you to understand that depression isn’t just a bad day. It is a never ending battle between you and your mind. Depression isn’t just being tired because you had a shitty day. It is a different feeling piling up until one day you cant deal with it anymore, you’ll blow up. Depression isn’t just being lazy. It is the thoughts and the paranoia that makes you feel so tired you can’t get out off your bed. It is the heavy feeling that sinks you deeper, makes you not wanting to wake up, hoping you can sleep the sadness away. If you know someone dealing with depression, help them. Support them. Sometimes, presence helps. Just being there for them helps. Even a simple hug can make them feel a little better. Listen. Dont say anything. Just listen to them and hug them.

This is for the ones who fought and never survived, Im sorry. Im really, really sorry. Wherever your souls are right now, I hope you now have the happiness you pretend to have. The happiness you truly deserve. For the ones who are still struggling from their demons, I am here. We are here. Its okay to cry, its okay to lose your shit but sweetie, just remember to never ever let your Dim beat you. You are stronger than him.

A small act can change a person’s life. Right this moment, somewhere, someone needs your help. Ask. Because sometimes, you can either save a person’s life or be a minute late.

And right now, you’re too late.

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jassieajoc · 8 years ago

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You don’t understand and I can’t explain.

Casualty (via amortizing)

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jassieajoc · 8 years ago

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