depressive episodes
when people are sad, they write.
not all people...but maybe this works for me.
When I was in my Sophomore year in college, I experienced a lot of depressive episodes. And I did not even know that these experiences were to be labelled as such. Not until I studied Abnormal Psychology in my Junior year in college. Our most honored professor, Miss G, once said that I improved much during my Junior Year. Yes, I was lost when I was in my Sophomore year due to a lot of reasons. I had a lot of insecurities. I felt like I had to adjust largely with my academics, to the point that I would doubt if I would really fit in the Psychology program. I had to carry much pain after some failed romantic relationships. I did not feel like I had any friends even when I was part of a social circle in college. Fuck you, cortisol. You made me want to just stop in the middle of the road just to get hit by a speeding truck or a car.
Now I am in my Senior year. And the depressive episodes came back. There was once when I cried as I came home from school last September 2018 just because I stuttered and got nervous while giving an impromptu welcome speech for the Lumads. But this year, I had more than one depressive episode. I don't know, but there is always something about January that changes up my brain chemistry. I can remember crying like shit inside my room during the second to the last day of Sinulog. That episode was by far the worst of all because I kept on hitting my head and pulling on my hair. I wanted to die badly, but I couldn't find the means. I cried my eyeballs out until they became red.
Ever since that, I knew something was wrong with me. But I just kept on suppressing it because I knew depression kills. And I have a lot of goals in life. I don't want to give up just yet. Especially that I still want to help others. I want to become a clinical psychologist so that I can help other people who must have felt these depressive episodes too. My dream of becoming a true psychologist made me decide that I wouldn't diagnose myself. Because if I do, I would probably increase the chance of a self-fulfilling prophecy and self-harm. This means that the more I know the symptoms of bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, or major depressive disorder, the more I would try to perfect the symptoms to warrant a diagnosis.
Tonight, I am writing this blog because I badly want to die. I thought of drinking tablets. Maybe buy some antihistamines. Or maybe I'd engage in drugs just like Althea in the movie The People vs Larry Flynt just to forget all the pain. I thought of drowning myself in the drum full of water in our bathroom so that it would be more morbid for anybody to discover that I'm already dead. I even thought of smoking my first cigarette. But I did none of these. I have suicidal thoughts, but I never did any of them because I still have dreams for myself. I don't want to join Jonghyun yet. I still want to help people like Jonghyun or help families bereaving due to suicide.
Prior to this, I wrote on my Twitter: "what should you tell someone if they wanted to die at this very moment" Unlike my very happy tweets, this one had no reaction at all. No replies, even. You see, the ugliest thing about society is how they could advocate for mental health and try to be "woke" as possible. But they never see the signs. They never do anything about their friend or family member who is secretly suffering from depressive or manic episodes they have no or less control over. People are unkind. They make living in this world even worst.
People only care when you are dead. Period. And they'll even make conspiracy theories and fit in every word you said to become premonitions.
People would even dismiss your problems as something "smaller" compared to theirs. Or compared to the millions of people living in poverty. But to invalidate someone else's struggles is like putting the last nail in the coffin already.
I just want to say at this very moment: Fuck you all. Fuck people who pretend that they care, but they aren't consistent in showing it.
The next time you sense there's something wrong with how your friend or family member is doing or thinking or feeling, offer them your ears. Listening would be good enough, even when you don't say anything. People who are experiencing depressive episodes need people who would stay and actually listen to them. And stop imposing your rules or values on them because they don't need it. What they need is your hug. Or that simple nod when you listen to them. Or that simple "It's okay" when they tell you they don't want to spill their real feelings yet.
Don't wait for your loved one to bid you Adieu. Ask them how they are doing today. That would really help a lot.
not all people...but maybe this works for me.
When I was in my Sophomore year in college, I experienced a lot of depressive episodes. And I did not even know that these experiences were to be labelled as such. Not until I studied Abnormal Psychology in my Junior year in college. Our most honored professor, Miss G, once said that I improved much during my Junior Year. Yes, I was lost when I was in my Sophomore year due to a lot of reasons. I had a lot of insecurities. I felt like I had to adjust largely with my academics, to the point that I would doubt if I would really fit in the Psychology program. I had to carry much pain after some failed romantic relationships. I did not feel like I had any friends even when I was part of a social circle in college. Fuck you, cortisol. You made me want to just stop in the middle of the road just to get hit by a speeding truck or a car.
Now I am in my Senior year. And the depressive episodes came back. There was once when I cried as I came home from school last September 2018 just because I stuttered and got nervous while giving an impromptu welcome speech for the Lumads. But this year, I had more than one depressive episode. I don't know, but there is always something about January that changes up my brain chemistry. I can remember crying like shit inside my room during the second to the last day of Sinulog. That episode was by far the worst of all because I kept on hitting my head and pulling on my hair. I wanted to die badly, but I couldn't find the means. I cried my eyeballs out until they became red.
Ever since that, I knew something was wrong with me. But I just kept on suppressing it because I knew depression kills. And I have a lot of goals in life. I don't want to give up just yet. Especially that I still want to help others. I want to become a clinical psychologist so that I can help other people who must have felt these depressive episodes too. My dream of becoming a true psychologist made me decide that I wouldn't diagnose myself. Because if I do, I would probably increase the chance of a self-fulfilling prophecy and self-harm. This means that the more I know the symptoms of bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, or major depressive disorder, the more I would try to perfect the symptoms to warrant a diagnosis.
Tonight, I am writing this blog because I badly want to die. I thought of drinking tablets. Maybe buy some antihistamines. Or maybe I'd engage in drugs just like Althea in the movie The People vs Larry Flynt just to forget all the pain. I thought of drowning myself in the drum full of water in our bathroom so that it would be more morbid for anybody to discover that I'm already dead. I even thought of smoking my first cigarette. But I did none of these. I have suicidal thoughts, but I never did any of them because I still have dreams for myself. I don't want to join Jonghyun yet. I still want to help people like Jonghyun or help families bereaving due to suicide.
Prior to this, I wrote on my Twitter: "what should you tell someone if they wanted to die at this very moment" Unlike my very happy tweets, this one had no reaction at all. No replies, even. You see, the ugliest thing about society is how they could advocate for mental health and try to be "woke" as possible. But they never see the signs. They never do anything about their friend or family member who is secretly suffering from depressive or manic episodes they have no or less control over. People are unkind. They make living in this world even worst.
People only care when you are dead. Period. And they'll even make conspiracy theories and fit in every word you said to become premonitions.
People would even dismiss your problems as something "smaller" compared to theirs. Or compared to the millions of people living in poverty. But to invalidate someone else's struggles is like putting the last nail in the coffin already.
I just want to say at this very moment: Fuck you all. Fuck people who pretend that they care, but they aren't consistent in showing it.
The next time you sense there's something wrong with how your friend or family member is doing or thinking or feeling, offer them your ears. Listening would be good enough, even when you don't say anything. People who are experiencing depressive episodes need people who would stay and actually listen to them. And stop imposing your rules or values on them because they don't need it. What they need is your hug. Or that simple nod when you listen to them. Or that simple "It's okay" when they tell you they don't want to spill their real feelings yet.
Don't wait for your loved one to bid you Adieu. Ask them how they are doing today. That would really help a lot.
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