ctw: mentions depression and suicide attempt
Three years ago I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Episode after one of my few attempts of self-deletion.
Two points in regards to that statement:
Firstly, the psychiatrist diagnosed the unfortunate event as something caused by a depressive “episode” instead of a “disorder” because, according to her, it was my first time to be consulted by a psychiatrist.
Here’s why it doesn’t sit right with me: We live in a painfully traditional country where it’s common to look over mental health symptoms as simply attitude or behavioural problems.
My parents didn’t “believe” in mental health, or if they did, they didn’t believe their child would ever need one because all of their children are normal, nay, exceptional! Gifted! There should be nothing wrong with their children, why would there be? Any hint of negativity from their child that they could not present to others as a simple quirk of the child would definitely be considered as a sign of failure of their parenting anyway, right? So no, my parents never brought me to any mental health professional.
Instead, I didn’t grow up with dreams and long term aspirations. Mainly because I didn’t think I would need one. For a very long time I thought I wouldn’t live long enough to be anything, and it was normal for me.
You know how when older generations call a child an “old soul” what they really mean is “Damn, how are you so depressed at such a young age” but they don’t really say it? I was an old soul kid. And for a long time I thought that was a compliment.
I do think some of them meant it as a compliment though. It is common in the Philippines for people to commend you for your resilience. How your strength is measured by how much pain and struggle you can endure. My mother did say I was her strongest kid.
I don’t wanna be strong anymore. Not if strength is about not speaking up.
At 13 years old, in our small port town of Puerto Princesa, there weren’t any professional mental health clinics to my knowledge. So I sought out counsellors. I met every school and university counselor available and accessible to me for years hoping they could help me. They couldn’t. Either psychology still wasn’t taught well at that time or it was simply their methods and approaches for me, I just found no help from them.
I finally decided to handle things on my own so I chose a psychology degree in one of the best universities in the country. The whole time it’s like trying to build a boat when you don’t know how to sail. All the what the fuck is all this for because I wasn’t going to live long enough to sail but I kept hammering anyway. Deep down I wanted to make sure I did my best before I go down, just so I could say I did everything I could.
Because that’s what I do. Anything I do, I do it well. I do it better than most people. And in a relatively short time, I’m one of the best. That’s how I knew myself. Isn’t is funny now how it turns out it was my ego that would save me from destruction in the future?
Which brings us to my second point.
For three years I only shared my suicide attempt story to a very select few. Because I knew how heavy and difficult it was going to be for other people to deal with that knowledge, yes, but also because it was embarrassing for me to say that it was a failed attempt.
Pride is a funny thing. I got it from my parents, thank you very much.
Anyway, just a few months ago I moved in with my grandmother and aunt on my dad’s side to avoid all the toxicity from my mother’s side of the family. My parents’ separation was not clean so they avoid each other like the plague.
I have been living under the philosophy of compatibility ever since. That means I understand everyone is doing their best with what they know, and sometimes their best is unhealthy for me.
I have to love myself enough to know what’s not good for me, but also consistently check myself if avoiding certain people is about growth or simply comfort without growth.
Good thing about being a perfectionist who is also a recovering people-pleaser is that I’m used to giving the benefit of the doubt to other people and do things in order to please them, but now I am learning that giving benefits of the doubt should have limitations.
I do and do my best, then if I run out of solutions and different ways to please them without sabotaging myself, I have to admit to myself that their lifestyle simply isn’t compatible with mine.
It has been working out for me so far. In a few months I’ve gained new rich friendships, and have been free of relationships that don’t serve fulfillment for me.
I feel so different now. Changed. Which is good! I always strive to change, because I believe if I don’t change it means I haven’t learned anything. It makes me feel so happy and proud, looking at how far I’ve come.
I found a journal entry I wrote when I was sixteen. I brought it to one of my therapy sessions months ago. I don’t have it with me now so I can’t remember the exact words written there. But sixteen year-old me felt the need to achieve greatness in such a short amount of time (because I used to sincerely believe I wouldn’t live past 30).
The entry felt so worrisome and heavy every time I read it. Climate change, misogyny, rape culture — every single issue I was learning about at that time felt like another heavy responsibility I alone should be able to solve before I die.
Sixteen year-old me had their heart in the right place, but since they were so used to getting things done on their own and in order to get the results they wanted they had to do it themself, they believed they should solve all the world’s problems on their own too.
It sounds ridiculous now, sure, but I have nothing but love for sixteen-year-old me. They were doing their best with what they know. And at that time, they knew if they wanted peace they had to fight for it themself.
I found myself crying onto the journal pages saying, “It’s alright. You’re sixteen. You don’t have to save the world.” It was such a heavy burden for a child to have. You know that feeling? When you grow up in a burning house so you feel the need to extinguish every burning thing you can find?
Who could’ve known that years later, I would be enjoying a long trip with a good friend, and the heaviest burden I could feel was of dealing with the weight of saying goodbye?
Who could’ve known that it will come to a point in my life where the worst things I was immediately aware of were the uncomfortable bus seats and how sad I was about not being with this friend again for a little while?
The annoying people were right — life does get better.
My concerns went from a world I didn’t know how to save, to a love I didn’t know how to hold, where to put, nor how to contain.
I feel like I’m filled with so much love now, ever since I decided that my life’s purpose was not any career or servitude to make my parents proud (although I heard that is also a byproduct of a good parent-child relationship), but fulfillment and learning in the greatest sense. I find it so easy to find love and precious moments in everything now.
I do acknowledge my privilege in being able to be supported and not worry about my survival anymore, and the privilege of being able to cut people off that are unhealthy for me.
I’m just so happy for myself now. How I’ve changed so much.
I am proud of the decisions I’ve made, and the growth that came with it.
I have never been so excited of uncertainty in my life.
Absolutely, literally, anything can happen!
I’m excited to see what I’m about to do next, too.
No great plans, just going with what feels right.
Zee Ro 