Category: Mental Health & Whatnot

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Hey

Hey, are you here? I’m writing here as my last resort. I’m almost at my worst. My therapist canceled our session yesterday and is not replying to my messages for an urgent session this week; it be in person or online.

I can feel it coming, the anxiety blackout, and I am terrified. I am trying to binge-watch Modern Family-which I highly recommend-but I need help. I need urgent help before it’s too late and before everything I have worked so hard on shatters before my eyes. I am in major need of an experienced consultant to help me make this life-changing decision, to help me think.

I am so sleep-deprived, I am barely eating, and I am always nauseous, crippling fear is quickly sneaking through every inch of my body, and anxious discomfort is taking over.

I cannot work. I spent all day researching psychologists that my insurance covers, psychologists that my insurance does not cover but are available today or tomorrow, online consultations, and therapy sessions. I cannot focus on anything, I feel an enormous storm coming my way, and I really don’t think I can survive it.

Help. I don’t know how you can help me because if you reached out to me, I will not disclose anything to you. I will not tell you what is going on; I will not tell you about my problem; I will not share my feelings and emotions.

So how can you help me? I don’t know. I’m asking the impossible, but I know that I am in desperate need of help, and I need anything to hold me still. I’m having an extremely hard time thinking about anything, about anyone.

I’ve had awful moments this week, yet I have not cried once, I have not even allowed myself to feel. I am too scared to cry; I am too scared to talk; I am too scared to face my feelings and decisions because I know if I faced them outside therapy, the blackouts will come back, more vicious than before. I am literally walking on eggshells and I don’t know how much longer I can do that, but I don’t feel long.

So help. I don’t know if there is any way you can help that I haven’t thought of, but please help me. Maybe you know a therapist that can see me today or tomorrow? I don’t know, but I do know I’m very scared, and it’s not easy to ask for help, so this is technically a cry out of desperation.

Hoping, praying, for better days and nicer feelings.

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Normalize the sadness of others

Normalize the sadness of others – People are often too scared to acknowledge their sadness in public or express it in any way, in fear of what others may say/think/feel. We cry silently at night, wipe our tears in the morning, put on heavy concealer and mascara, or blame the puffy eyes on sleep deprivation.

We smile and laugh the whole day long, even if all we are thinking of are ways to die. We joke about other people’s sadness, might even call them dramatic or over-sharers, because normalcy is to suppress mental health and attack the ones who show it.

It is okay to be sad in public; this should never be labeled as attention-seeking or inconsiderate. You get to feel, you literally get to feel.

It pains me to see people roll their eyes at other people’s sadness or call it “cheesy”, we are humans, and emotions are part of who we are, and everyone is entitled to feel as free as they want.

My teen years were not my brightest days, my therapist says I had major depression with suicidal ideation and PTSD, but I never really showed it outside the few steps of my room. My best friend, the family, had a little sense, but no one really knew how hard it was to wake up in the morning and survive.

All the crap about “it will get better” or “you’ll look back years later sitting next to your loving husband and child and regret…” did nothing. I did not want it to get better, and I did not a husband or a child or a future or happiness. I just want it all to end.

I had a really close friend who I really enjoyed talking to, and we grew close because it was easy to talk to him, and he made me laugh a lot. There was a time where the darkness in me and around me was just too much to handle, and I started sharing a little about what was happening, telling him that I don’t really feel like talking right now or telling him bits and pieces of my suffering. We suddenly stopped talking, and months went by, and I missed him. I texted him once and asked him what happened between us, to which he replied, “you got too depressing for me.”

Since then, I vowed that not only will I not share my sufferings, but also never show them. I felt ashamed of my sadness, something that makes me unwanted and drives people away from me, and I never wanted that. I thought that it would be easier to let it kill me in silence than let it kill me out loud.

But that was not true. I was literally dying, and I could not tell anyone. The pain was unendurable, especially for a 16 years old, there was nothing that made it go away, and all I could do was sit with no lights and cry until my throat hearts. A year before, at 15, I chose to recluse myself from everything and everyone, leaving myself with only two friends and the a growing heavy upon my shoulders.

Years later, and as I volunteered with Embrace and learned so much about mental health, I realized that the single most important thing in recovery is acknowledging feelings and sharing them. There is a whole other world in sharing, and I cannot stress enough how much this can help in recovery. Sometimes sharing fears and feelings in a safe place with incredible support is all the therapy we need to prosper and get out of the bleak abyss.

But how are we going to share if feelings are labeled and judged upon? How are we to share if feelings are considered an opposite to masculinity and femininity is equivalent to the concept of a drama queen?

We need to normalize feelings, to support those who want to share yet feel obliged to crack a joke after being too emotional or talk about personal mental health issues with a smirk, laughing nervously, and looking all around in fear that someone might be laughing.

Please encourage people when they try to tell you about a certain bad mood or a mental disorder, do not shrug them or call them any shameful name, whether it’s a guy or a gal, they deserve a safe environment where they are comfortable enough to vent and put aside a little of the heavyweight they are probably carrying.

When you dismiss people’s troubles and undermine what they are feeling, you contribute to feeding the monster within them, which will reflect on their personalities and behaviors and contribute to their bad life decisions and the already tolling society.

Let us normalize sadness in public; if anyone approached us saying that they are sad, let us make sure they are heard, and they are loved, and that even though we may not help in any way, we acknowledge their feelings and are there for them. A healthy society starts with mental health, and if therapy is too stigmatized or overprized, we need to start to create internal safety and cheaper places for recovery.

No one deserves to suffer in silence; no one deserves to be lonely while the millions of conflicting shards of pain stab his or her heart at night.

If you’re not comfortable talking to a close person, talk to a stranger. Embrace’s helpline is 1564, and I promise you, they will help. Please don’t give up on yourself, not yet, at least. I love you, and even though you may think no one loves you, I promise you somebody does, and somebody will, because you are beautiful and because you deserve to be loved.

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Tonight is just like any other night

Just like any other night – It’s 4 am. I’m struggling to remember, a few months ago, where all of this was gone, when I woke up on a cold December morning and I remembered that it had been so long that I didn’t have morning anxiety, that for the first time in over 5 years, the dawn anxiety attacks were gone.

And here I am now, clutching what’s left of serenity, with agonizing pain in my heart and an inflicting lump in my throat, here I am awake and thinking of all the horrid in life. Here I am at 4 am, wishing that the sun never comes, that I never have to wake up again.

I’m sorry. Every time I am back in a slum, I feel like the weakest creature on earth, like I have failed you and everything around me. It’s similar to the feeling of when I eat too much, and all I’m left with is guilt and shame and self-hatred.

I was so happy about this blog a few months back when it was a happy and content place. I listened to songs that I felt, and I found safety within; I got out of the house willingly, and seeing people was so idyllic. Now it’s all dark and depressive, and I am listening to It’s Over by The Smiths, and I have 14 unfinished posts in my draft, and I’m sorry that you have to read this.

And, my dear God, summer is blooming, which means all this will worsen and get uglier. And I’m terrified.

I’m sorry that I’m not what you expected; I’m sorry that I can’t be sane enough to be a normal friend or person. It’s just, I am trying so, so, hard to get out of this nightmare, of this rollercoaster, I’m trying so hard to be a better person for myself and you, but the pain in my heart still wakes me up at 4 am and tells me there is no happiness, that I don’t deserve happiness because I am what is wrong in the world and yet, I do not deserve to die.

I wish I can be better; I wish I can have nicer words and a nicer feeling, I wish I can write the way I wrote before, I wish it can get better, and I’m not awake at 4 am thinking of all the ways I could numb the pain inside me. I wish I can be better for you.

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Be kind

Be kind please. You never know, you really never know.

Be kind to those you love in general and to those you hate in specific. Be kind to strangers, to grumpy taxi drivers, to migrant domestic workers, to people you come across, and you never know what is going with their lives or their heads.

You never know, and because you never know, please be kind. Be kind to your nice friend who is always laughing, be kind to your colleagues who do not talk to you, and sometimes not make eye contact.

Because you never know. You never know which one’s which; you never know which one is arrogant and which one is too shy to look at you in the eye. You never know who is thinking of going home and swallowing the hidden pills in an unworn brown jacket.

You never know what the kid who never participates in class-virtually-must be feeling or the kid in class who always asks questions and takes notes. You never know which one of your colleagues are listening to Asleep by The Smiths at work and searching for ways to numb the pain.

Be kind because it is easier than being guilty. Smile at people and tell them they look nice, compliment their choice of music and notice the little things, tell your friends you love them, and notice the dark circles under the eyes. You never know who spent their night crying; you never know.

Be kind because loving someone is so rewarding. There is so much we can give if only we treated others with unreciprocated kindness; it never gets old to see someone smiling because of you.

Be kind because we are all carrying sadness that we cannot bear. Be kind because the pain crippling in your guts might be worse in somebody else’s guts. Be kind because all of us thought of multiple ways to death, because many of us contemplated suicide every now and then, because some of us tried to kill ourselves but could not find the strength and bravery.

Be kind, I beg you. The world is horrendous on its own without snarky comments and cold faces. Be kind because it is so worth loving someone too much, enough for them to stay. “I stay alive because you are kind to me.”

Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
I’m tired and I
I want to go to bed
Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
And then leave me alone
Don’t try to wake me in the morning
‘Cause I will be gone
Don’t feel bad for me
I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart
I will feel so glad to go
Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
I don’t want to wake up on my own anymore
Sing to me
Sing to me
I don’t want to wake up on my own anymore
Don’t feel bad for me
I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart
I really want to go
There is another world
There is a better world
Well, there must be
Well, there must be
Well, there must be
Well, there must be
Bye

The Smiths

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Thinking out loud

Thinking out loud and I’m not sure I’m okay.

And I’m not saying this from a dark perspective, or out of suicidal thoughts or anything; I’m just saying out of observation. My attitude, my acts, and my behavior, it doesn’t seem right.

I have ten unfinished posts in my draft box, which obviously stresses me the hell out, which leads to me not writing. I haven’t been writing. I even have great new songs that have been on repeat, which usually is my major motivator for writing, as I love writing while listening to good songs. But even that did not encourage me to write.

Except for last week’s rage post, I didn’t write for a month, and I’m disappointed in myself for that. The reason why I focus so much on writing is that writing is my absolute favorite thing in the world; it is my major source of happiness, and when I stop writing, it means I am depriving myself of happiness, which is why I know there is something not okay.

I’ve been writing since before I know how to write. I was five, and I would draw on paper a story and then give it to my mum, and I would tell her what to write as a story for each drawing. I’ve written so many short stories, poems, one long finished story, and long unfinished stories, and there is nothing that I love more than seeing how a word I am typing is appearing on screen or paper.

I know I am not the very best writer of all (I am not reading enough to strengthen myself 🙁 ) or have the best grammar, but I know I am good. I’ve had teachers who told me I made them cry, and others who say that they save my writing assignments because they are too good not to be saved. I had friends and even online people tell me I am more than good, so I kind of have an ego for writing.

For so long, writing was the only thing I was good at. I am science illiterate, and I cannot for the life of me study or focus on anything academic. I absolutely had no idea what to do in university because of that, so I grew up thinking that I am a complete failure, but I at least knew I can write well.

I dream of dedicating all my time to learning how to write professionally. Like an actual 5 years of university learning creative writing, reading literature and poems, and just living my life in Europe writing as I watch gondolas sailing in the Grand Canal and as I endeavor in my sweet coffee and healthy breakfast. I lust for this.

And when I don’t write, I hate it. And the more I don’t read, the more I feel like I can’t write because reading is the fuel of anyone who writes, and when I don’t read, it means I am stuck with my inane words and weak structure.

But it’s not just writing; it’s everything, really. I don’t read anymore, and I am binge-watching series (have you watched New Girl? It’s nice). I prefer staying home to going out (I haven’t felt this way in a year), and I’m not playing chess with dad anymore or reading with my family. I’m procrastinating more than usual, and I’m slowly distancing myself from my surroundings, and I’m having increased anger tantrums, and I skipped therapy for more than two months.

I went back to therapy last week, but I requested my sessions to be bi-weekly rather than every Monday night. I don’t know why; it just felt right.

It’s raining, and it’s dark and cold and beautiful, but I know I’m not okay. I don’t really like this path because I feel like I know how it will end, and it is not going to be pretty. I’ll work on myself, I promise, I always do. I’m just writing this as a self-observation from me to me so I know it’s out there and so I pressure myself into not falling into an abyss.

On a brighter note, look at how funny banks can sometimes be:

“Please destroy this slip after you have memorized this code” Jokes on you, bank, I sometimes forget my name.

Hope you’re doing well.

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There is nothing wrong with you

Nothing wrong – As if dismissing the wrong things in me will make it go away. As if when we don’t acknowledge the wrong things in me, it will make it all better and make me think to myself: “you’re right! I am perfect, and I feel nothing.”

I’m so fed up with people dismissing my feelings, refusing to see that there is something wrong with me. I know there are wrong things in me, I know that, I acknowledge that, acknowledging it helps me cope, and you undermining it certainly does not.

When I tell you about a personal insecurity or a psychological instability of mine and tell you that I am going to therapy, please, do not dismiss me. Do not say things like: “you don’t go to therapy because you are sick, it just makes you feel better,” “you’re just oversensitive,” “there’s nothing wrong with you,” “you don’t look like someone with anything [mentally] wrong with them” please don’t say this. It does not make me feel better.

I know you say this out of pure intentions, reassuring me that I am “sane,” that I am okay. I know you do this so I don’t further indulge in the feeling of wrongness, and thereby, self-hatred; I know you only say all that because you care about me and because you want me to feel better, but saying all that only suppresses my feelings and doesn’t help with making the pain go away.

I don’t know how to not be in toxic social inquiries, whether in friendships or relationships, and I often hurt you in ways I never mean to, but you’re too polite to tell me. And I know I am oversensitive, I don’t deny that, but oversensitivity is a consequence of a psychological disorder, and acknowledging that with me helps.

I can’t have you dismiss my feelings, because it only makes me sad. Not all illnesses look the same, not all are visible. Mine is silent, it only kills me silently and it portrays itself as a dramatic oversensitive crying baby who would overthink breaking somebody’s chocolate bar by mistake, for days. It portrays itself as a drama queen who cares about the silliest and most absurd things while there are so many more important things going on in the world.

I’m a creation of residues of traumas and bad experiences, and on most days, I am too weak to face any of my troubles. I talk about my personal problems with a big crowd of friends and strangers in hopes you understand my weird behaviors and my ramblings, and in hopes you don’t judge me as much as you probably do.

I can’t be close to you, and at the same, I am people-oriented, and the only thing that would make me feel safe is people, but I cannot have you near me. I am not playing with your feelings or victimizing myself with “mood swings” or “PMSing.” I just want you close to me, but I can’t get close to you.

I am trying really hard to acknowledge everything wrong with me, every day, with every breath I take, and with every beating of my heart, I want to be better with everything, whether with you or whether with myself, and you dismissing the fact that there might be something wrong with me is not helping me.

I know I have been asking this for a year, and it’s now an overused and repeated statement, but please stay with me despite the madness. I promise it is not only melodramatic tantrums, or oversensitivity, or “she’s too depressive for me,” or pretty much a drama queen. I promise I will be better for you, and for me, but please wait on me a little longer.

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Let us stop romanticizing working/studying past hours

I’m doing it again. I’m working for 15 hours a day with merely any exhaustion.

It’s just; I seriously get high on work. I can procrastinate for so long, lay lazily in one posture for hours, feel bothered if anyone asked me to move from my place. Yet, at the same time, I can work nonstop for days without sleep if my body lets me.

Society often romanticizes overworking yourself, working beyond hours, overnights, and it’s so, so, wrong. Overworking yourself might achieve prosperity earlier than expected but at your own expense. Trust me; I learned this the hard way.

I know it can be almost impossible not to overwork ourselves given the work we have; a lot of times, there is just so much to do and so little time. I think what I am trying to say here is that it is okay to slack on some duties and studies if it means you’ll protect yourself from a potential collapse.

We need to fight the urge to work past our own ability; we need to urge more healthy sleeping and fewer overnights, more healthy eating, less caffeine consumption, more structured schedules, and fewer tasks. It’s vital to prioritize your mental health over your work or education; you wouldn’t want to burnout, because that mess is pretty frightening.

I’m writing this, and I know I’m a hypocrite; I would do all that, even during weekends. I would only drink caffeine drinks without eating all day, work for hours without any break, welcome new tasks over my jammed schedule with open arms, eliminate any chance of social or romantic life, and only log off when I finish everything on my to-do list, even if it’s 2 am and the first time I logged in was 8 am the day before.

I don’t do that anymore, or at least, I am trying to improve. In 2020, I burned myself out, and that is when major depression, anxiety, and panic attacks took over my life, blazing all my attempts of ever becoming a decent person. I literally had to rebuild my life, personality, identity, mental health, and points of view from the very start. It felt as if I am a newborn child with a 22 years old body, exploring everything in a world everybody knows what they’re doing, except me.

It wasn’t pretty; it really wasn’t. I’m still trying to fix what was destroyed, and all of that is because I chose to overwork myself. It’s not that we can work for days nonstop; we literally, physically, and mentally cannot. Our brain shuts down at one point, leaving us to deal with consequences.

I could go into the simple scientific reasons behind burnout, in my own basic words. Still, I think it’s better to read about it from professionals (do add to the signs and symptoms: MAJOR fear, anxiety, and panic). Also, here they explain the 5 stages of burnout, which I think is very useful to know.

This week has been an exception in my road to recovery, and today specifically has been brutal. I started working at 9 am, and here I am, at 12:38 am, just finished everything I had to do, and I have the urge to start with tomorrow’s tasks. It’s addictive, for all the wrong reasons, but workaholism is a thing.

I think one of the things I like about my current job is that it is comfortable. I am normally not one to choose jobs according to comfort, I would welcome jobs with 10+ hours a day if they make me happy- and dear God, I did. Even though a 10+ hours job gives so much satisfaction (before the burnout), it dismisses all other enjoyments and necessities in life, like weekends, family time, or friends.

Ever since I started this job, I am taking care of myself. I have more time for myself and the people I love, and I am going to therapy, and I am spending more time with my family, and I even created a blog!

I even have time to read and watch old movies on my movie list. I sleep early and wake up early. I have more time to listen to my friends’ problems and be there for them. I have time to do extracurricular activities for FoodBlessed, voluntarily, and I actually have time to reply to people’s texts.

I think all this is great; being happy is to be healthy and lead a content life. I still overwork myself now and then, but not as critical as before. Say I have FoodBlessed meetings, I would compile them all in one or two days, which are the days I go to the office, so I would have everything to do in one day and then have the rest of the days working from the comfort of my bed. On the extra hours day, I would make sure to walk and drink coffee from a cafe I like, which may not be the healthiest thing to do, but I do that out of self-care, which I guess counts as half a bonus point.

Let us fight the trend of going on days without rest. There is nothing glamorous about bad mental health behaviors, it will kill you alive, and I would hate to see you die.

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I would leave me too, to be honest

I’m sorry that I take you for granted whenever you are around and then miss you so much when you’re not near me. It’s just my mind is a big bubble of noise, and I’m so distracted and loud most of the time that I need to shut everything out and focus on one thing, and often this leads to me neglecting you because maybe you are not loud enough, but I still love you the most.

Right now, as we are talking and I am not sure if you are serious or if you’re talking like always and I’m just over-emotional, or if you actually were upset and I didn’t feel it, and now you don’t want to be here anymore and, oh God, please don’t leave me.

You are the safest amongst everyone, and maybe this is why I don’t give you attention as much as I want to because I take you for granted. I know that you are here, which makes me neglect you because your safety keeps me going, and losing you would be like losing the light in me. You leaving would be the most exhausting thing to me; you’d take away my light.

If you can picture a major caffeine addict sitting under a blanket with a cup of coffee and shaking hands, head, body, trembling so hard that coffee is spilling from the cup. Eyes so crazy you would think they are searching for something, but they’re actually only looking for safety. That’s me; that is how I actually am inside my head, all the time. I would be sitting so still and sane, but the insanity of the coffee addict inside of me is squealing in my ears, and because of that, I might neglect you.

But please stay here, give me the benefit of the doubt; I know you’re good at this. You are an angel, you’re the gift of God to me, and I love your existence so much that a mundane word you just said has made me write all of this. But I wouldn’t tell you because I don’t even know if there’s anything behind all this, and I wouldn’t even know what to say.

I know one thing, it would really hurt me if you leave, and if it’s true that you really care about me, you wouldn’t want that.

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Thank you for the rain

I’ve never felt like I’m multitasking more than right now, and I thought I’d share this with you. Right now I’m in an online communications meeting with work, and I’m listening to an online class (social philosophy) on my phone, and I’m translating texts, and I’m planning next week’s getaway in my head, and I’m also preparing Instagram stories for FoodBlessed.

Ah, and I am also blogging.

What else? Well it’s raining, and it’s cold again. Thank you for the rain, I highly appreciate it.

One of the many things that affected my mood the past two weeks-other than the obvious, of course, is that we are in January, and I was wearing sleeveless PJs because it is not cold enough.

How bad is that? It just started raining, and we’re in the middle of January! This is a catastrophe. This should not be accepted nor repeated. January exists for heating and coldness and chestnuts, not light blankets and PJs. This is a crime.

I’m glad it’s cold again, and if my plans for next worked out, I will be sitting near a chimney with my favorite people in the world drinking hot chocolate and singing loudly on the tunes of an oud or a guitar.

I woke up today with a newly acquired optimism, even though I think I have developed a new fear that I hope doesn’t get worse.

Today is the first day of a full 24 hours lockdown, as in I need to order my grocery home, and I need to fill an online form to obtain a permit and go out. I’m looking at the usually bustling street, and it’s empty. A car or two passes now and then, but that’s that. Everyone’s home, warm and unsafe, and some are less privileged to have a home and are hiding from the rain, cold and unsafe.

And I am scared. I’m not sure if I developed this feeling after my days of forced isolation, or it’s a behavior I developed throughout the terrific 2020, but I think I am scared of loneliness; I’m scared of being alone.

And I’m not saying sitting by myself alone. Whether I am walking, in a bookstore, getting my coffee, or in a mall, I love being by myself, I enjoy doing all of this alone. I think I am scared of being alone in general, as in living with no one by my side, having no one to talk to or see when I want to.

The fear of emptiness is something I know I had a long time ago. I am scared of having nothing, of the blankness, of a bleak, I am scared of being in one place my whole life and have no yesterday or tomorrow. This is why I find commitment much harder than it should because commitment is bounding to a certain one thing, and I am not sure I can do this. I always make sure I tell myself that with everything going on in my life, I have the option to walk out.

Well, one thing I know for sure is that I’m looking forward to my therapy session on Monday.