If you have been crying in your room all night wishing to end everything,
If you have been waking up thinking if you can make it through today,
If your thoughts are louder than the sound of your friends pounding and endlessly knocking on your door begging you to open up,
If you have ever faked your smiles and your "i'm okay's" so you don't end up crying while telling someone how you really feel,
If you have ever felt like a burden to anyone that you think the best way is to disappear,
and
If you've ever felt too much that you need to feel something burning on your skin to remind you that you are alive,
you are not alone.
I thought I was going to be okay.
I was healing. I was meeting with my psychiatrist once every month. I buy my medicines every week and take them regularly and on time. I was on track. I was going to be okay.
Or so I thought.
My family does not understand "depression" and "anxiety". They don't understand what it is. They don't understand why they are wasting money on sending me to a shrink.
My psychiatrist once talked to them about how I'm coping up. I thought everything's going to be okay. But no. They thought everything she said were just lies and she's doing nothing to make me feel better.
I was done listening to their complaints. I was done listening to their sarcastic remarks about my illness.
I stopped.
I stopped going to the psychiatrist. I stopped taking my medications. For a while I thought I was okay, and stopping medications was probably a bad decision-- but I can't do anything if they don't want me to continue going to the psychiatrist anymore.
And now my thoughts are back, worse than ever.
Every night I have to tell myself that the sun will rise. That everything is going to be okay. I distract myself by being busy. I talk to friends and hangout with them. But at the end of the day, I will always be alone with my thoughts, and my own thoughts scare me sometimes because they can be the death of me.
So how am I still holding on?
I vent. I talk to my friends about how I feel, and they help me out.
Surround yourself with people that knows how to listen.
Don't keep the pain. Let it out. Cry if you must.
Cliche, but... I am also holding on to the fact that everything's going to work out in the end.
Hold on.
We'll be okay.
If you have been waking up thinking if you can make it through today,
If your thoughts are louder than the sound of your friends pounding and endlessly knocking on your door begging you to open up,
If you have ever faked your smiles and your "i'm okay's" so you don't end up crying while telling someone how you really feel,
If you have ever felt like a burden to anyone that you think the best way is to disappear,
and
If you've ever felt too much that you need to feel something burning on your skin to remind you that you are alive,
you are not alone.
I thought I was going to be okay.
I was healing. I was meeting with my psychiatrist once every month. I buy my medicines every week and take them regularly and on time. I was on track. I was going to be okay.
Or so I thought.
My family does not understand "depression" and "anxiety". They don't understand what it is. They don't understand why they are wasting money on sending me to a shrink.
My psychiatrist once talked to them about how I'm coping up. I thought everything's going to be okay. But no. They thought everything she said were just lies and she's doing nothing to make me feel better.
I was done listening to their complaints. I was done listening to their sarcastic remarks about my illness.
I stopped.
I stopped going to the psychiatrist. I stopped taking my medications. For a while I thought I was okay, and stopping medications was probably a bad decision-- but I can't do anything if they don't want me to continue going to the psychiatrist anymore.
And now my thoughts are back, worse than ever.
Every night I have to tell myself that the sun will rise. That everything is going to be okay. I distract myself by being busy. I talk to friends and hangout with them. But at the end of the day, I will always be alone with my thoughts, and my own thoughts scare me sometimes because they can be the death of me.
So how am I still holding on?
I vent. I talk to my friends about how I feel, and they help me out.
Surround yourself with people that knows how to listen.
Don't keep the pain. Let it out. Cry if you must.
Cliche, but... I am also holding on to the fact that everything's going to work out in the end.
Hold on.
We'll be okay.
Comments
Post a Comment