On Acceptance

Does time really heal? Or we just get used to it? 

Last year, on my 26th birthday, I decided to took off my headscarf. A piece of cloth that has been covering my hair for more than 10 years. A piece of cloth which was supposed to be a statement of my faith to Islam.

My depression brought me down so deep, I got sick many times before I finally decided to be open about my decision. 

It was emotional and far from easy. 

The after was even worse. 

Some of my family members preferred not to meet me than seeing me without my headscarf. They were even willing to just cancel the family plan if I ever showed up without my headscarf. Hoping they would be more welcoming, I tried to follow their game. But their rejection towards my choice alienated me and didn’t help both sides. It just made my depression even worse. 

I decided to make space as far as I could from them.

I heard many times that we can not rely ourselves to other. But for me, my family’s acceptance becomes a glimpse of my hope to continue to live. I had countless suicidal thoughts because I believed that my family will never accept me as who I am. 

Maybe it sounds stupid, but knowing that they were stop taking pictures with me (without my headscarf) became one of my stress stimulant. It leads to my evil thoughts of disapproval, and estrange. Evil thoughts that they are ashamed of not successfully raising a religious daughter. Evil thoughts that my family are ashamed of having me as their member. 

But after a year, thanks to my big sister’s encouragement to be open to my family. My family’s effort to be on my shoes leads to improvement on fundamental things I need. 

Their acceptance. 

It started with small steps. The first one was having my lil sister asked me to join her for a selfie. And then I went for my mom birthday, and having my in-laws still talked to me. Next was my in-laws wanted to take family picture together. Then having my picture posted online. All without headscarf. 

I don’t know if they are really accept me or they just get used to it. But at least, for now I could be less worried about this. 

On Being Not Good Enough

“Yes, sex is cool. But have you ever sat in darkness, wondering why you’re not good enough?”

With great trepidation is how I live my days. I feel anxious pretty much about everything. And having self-doubt attached makes it even worse. 

Just yesterday, my scholarship application got rejected. Again. To be honest, this is actually my scenario. I wait the committee’s E-mail with the worst-case scenario running in my mind. I was doubting myself for getting accepted from the very first time. But even tho I was prepared with their answer on my application, I still can not hold myself back to cry for hours. 

One thing leads to another. The rejection causes domino effect. 

After being told by the ex-boss in the past that depressed people are not able to work, this rejection is not only effecting my visa planning, but somehow also affirming my self-doubt on being capable to work on something. I really can not trust myself if I could support myself. More than that, it’s even harder to imagine myself continuing my education, and worst now I doubt myself if I could put on a good show or even the show itself for my solo exhibition next month. 

If I really wanted to go to school again, I need to prepare hard cash for my visa which the amount is not small at all. It’s not that I didn’t save up as back up plan if I got rejected. But my back up plans used to help my parents back then. And I can not forcing them to magically come to me next week with the exact sum of money. I run some scenarios in my mind at this moment. But it just gets on my nerve and makes me more freak out. All that’s left now is just my head thinking that I can not make all of this thing happen cause I am not good enough at the first place. 

On Economic Cost.

After almost ten years living on my own, I’m back to my parent’s house. It’s been almost 6 months after I got resign-fired and decided to leave Bandung and it’s toxicity. 

Having someone constantly worrying about me is frustrating. And admitting the condition that I become a jobless stay at home daughter has been torturing me as well. Being dependent to my family kills me slowly but surely. It kills the last drops of my confidence. And the remaining faith on myself unwittingly fades too quick.

At this intersection of my life, I’ve got not many choices left.

I did all of my medication without insurance just like many of other Indonesians. This is why, I am so aware that mental health can be, or (actually) it really is, that expensive. And this is what I really don’t want to admit at this moment. The economic cost of having mental health issue. 

The cost which I can not afford by living like this. 

Every time I ran out of my meds, I panic myself cause that means I have to scrape out my savings or the worst… ask my parents to buy it for me. I know that money isn’t everything, but imagining myself without those meds freaks me out worse. Cause even without all those voices, I spent many of my nights thinking whether to just kill myself so that I won’t be a burden to my family anymore. 

Well, no one will tell that I am a burden. But I just can’t get it out of my head either. 

On Discipline

There is no i in discipline. There are 3 of em. 

At least that’s what I read on a communist Facebook meme page. 

After I decided to open up to my family about my condition, sooner than I imagined, they become the other two of my i-s.

They will remind me every single day to take my meds, day and night. They limit our night outs cause they know I should sleep early so that I don’t get cranky and sensitive in the morning.

As far as I notice, they really make effort to be on my shoe. Sometimes, they make fun of it, which is actually cool for most of the time. Cause it makes me feel normal. They really treated it as if it’s an allergy just like how I wrote before. They probably also take notes on my stimulants. During my ups and downs, they will ask me what happened or what am I thinking. Even though most of the time I’m not willing to share the details, they will ask me one simple question, ‘Is someone trying to whisper you bad things?’ 

They really are helping me to become more discipline during medication process. 

My closest surroundings still treated me just like it used to. Apart from my suicidal thoughts which come up too often when I train-commuting, they still allow me to go here and there on my own. But bring my ID anywhere I go become a thing for my family at this moment. Which I found ironically funny cause that means they are pretty aware anything could happen to me, not only accident but also self-harm. 

Despite the fact that my family still trying to connect my illness to some spiritual thingy (read back the very first post), I really can’t complain on how they deal with my illness on daily basis. I start become dependent on them. 

Ps. Knowing that are not that many friends and family support their closest one’s condition, I am fully aware that this post could bring many downs to anyone who have the same problem. We know that it won’t be easy to fight on our own. And I’m so sorry about that. But if you need help, or need friend to talk, please feel free to reach me. Drop your e-mail address on the comment, and I will reach you back. 

On Tracking the Ups.

Nope, not that UPS delivery service company eventhough you can track them as well. 

Again, mood stabiliser doesn’t work like cocaine. It helps you with the brain, but still yourself is the one who gives the consent to feel. Remembering the downs is definitely easier then remembering the ups. Bad memories stay longer. But usually what brings you down, lift you up. 

Mine is working or anything related to work. Yes. I’m not just a lazy-ass procrastinator, I’m also a workaholic. I dunno if its true, but my best friend said, she could see this sparks in my eyes whenever I get new interesting job. I kinda believe in her cause I once noticed this thing really happened and I really felt how my mood change. 

It was Saturday evening. A night out. We (me and my friend just called her Monti) went out for drinks and karaoke at local cafe. Suddenly. Depression kicked in. Crippling anxiety joined. Tears went down together with early 2000s Emo playlist. Fk. Bad mood. Still the same night. escaping the cafe crowd. BOOM! Red Grape mixed with wheat. Back to the cafe for toilet. Someone called me and heeeey! Dear, you! Where are you all this time? Stop your job as cultural whore already? Well, we got some news for you! We hope you could join us as spokesperson. 

TA TA TAAA! 

Still the same night. Mood became too good. Manic. Club Hopping. Dance like a moron. Good night. 

Until now, they never contact me, and neither do I. But let’s just remember this to show that, at least there’s something that could make me feel happier. 

On Discussing Feeling.

What’s a panic attack? One of mine is someone invading my brain, trying to rearrange my state of mind. I have this problem almost with everyone. Even I complained my shrink when I think she starts disrupting what’s in my head.

The most sensitive topic, of course.. feelings. Not only romantic feeling, but in general such as confusion, anger, sadness, surprisingly.. even happiness. And I realised this few days ago when I chat with a guy I knew from a dating app. 

Yes, I’m on the dangerous game called online dating. 

After my shutdown caused by the broken heart I wrote on my previous post. My friend suggested me to reinstall OKCupid in mission to find distractions, and hopefully forget my romantic feeling I have towards my really good friend. I thought I was done with online dating. The routines of swiping, reading profiles, introductions, and all the same shits different people tires me. But, I still gave it a go and see how it works this time. 

Long story short, I stumbled upon with this guy. A photographer. He greeted me with Bahasa Indonesia, good simple basic moves. As the first person greeted me in Bahasa Indonesia, I swiped right on him. Pretty interesting person, and and a really affectionate one. Probably the most affectionate guy I’ve ever encounter. I don’t know if he really interested in me or just because he’s an Italian. (Hey dude, if you read this post, I’m so sorry. Even if you said you really like me, I don’t know what you really have in mind so I still have this bad stereotyping in my mind).

But I’m not here to talk about him. So let’s jump to few days ago.

After intense chats and video calls, I started to feel terrified. It feels like someone learn about me too fast and skilfully putting himself to my relationship-zone. I’m glad that someone has been acting so lovely to me, but it doesn’t feel right. At all. All of these zones of friends, colleagues, partner, friends, or family are organised as their own parts of my state of mind. So, when someone accidentally (in my mind) trying to sneak in themselves to one of it, especially, positioning themselves as a partner, I panic myself, terribly.  

I don’t have the guts to really told him to slow down. I mean, I told him that, but still in ‘hehe-hehe-lol’ mode. Not as straightforward as all these European girls.

I automatically told him I’m still on my broken heart state. He asked me if I’m trying to pushing him away. What he said brought my confusing indecisive behaviour. And this just gave me major panic attack for the last few days. In my head, I know that my mind won’t be with him sooner and that’s why I told him about it. But maybe, just maybe, he’s right and I might did that to subconsciously push him away.

I’m glad someone acts so affectionately cause it’s been a while. But admitting this just terrifies me. 

Apart from my broken heart, this terrifying moments make me think.. that I probably not ready to have anyone on my relationship-zone at this moment. 

Should I really take a break from all kinds of dating?

On Being Technical.

Depression is like your allergy towards 40 kinds of food. It won’t be lifted up fully. But it’s controllable. And through this post, I want to share on how I am being technical on controlling my depression :

Do not self-diagnose yourself. 

This is important. A friend of mine who happened to be a psychologist told me, that self-diagnose could lead to self-labelling. What he meant is once we thought that we are fit in to ones category, we will try to fulfil ourselves there. And we make-believe ourselves that we have all of our symptoms (when we are actually not). 

Ask for help.

Just like the other basic thing, this is the most important part of our-trying-to-be-better journey. It’s not gonna be easy to tell others, but if you feel like it, talk first to your closest ones. It could be your anyone you trust enough. If you think it doesn’t help, ask for professional help. Or just go straight to a pro. Talk to them. 

Finding the best for yourself. 

It doesn’t have to be a psychiatrist like I do, if you don’t feel like it, you can always try or seek from different help, such as psychologist, or go to yoga class, meditation class and many other possibilities. I’m open to anything that suits you best. 

The best here is not the most expensive, or the most famous one. But finding the one who you can talk to in regular basis and trust wholeheartedly. I went for different doctors before I meet this one. 

Being discipline on the therapy and taking the meds. 

Okay, since I go to psychiatrist, I will write what I’ve been doing the whole time with her. 

I see her every 2 weeks, and discuss many things I experienced during the timeframe. I take what have been prescribed for me regularly. And as a company to my meds, I also write journal (or also blog like this) to keep track the symptoms and as part of the psychotherapy. 

Follow the stream. Or not. 

It is not a guarantee that you will be get better in a week or two. It could take months, or even years. It depends and you don’t have to force yourself to get better anytime soon. But, if you think you get better as soon as within weeks or months, embrace it. Don’t feel guilty about it. It’s not impossible, that all the helps you seek could sparks your breathing-only-life-phase further to really living.

And the hardest part.. Feeding it. 

Tomorrowland is one of my again-and-again-rewatch movie. In this movie, they told one of 21st century famous American native’s legend of two wolves. The lines goes like this: 

Casey Newton: "There are two wolves" … You told me this story my entire life, and now I'm telling you: There are two wolves and they are always fighting. One is darkness and despair, the other is light and hope. Which wolf wins?
Eddie Newton: C'mon, Casey.
Casey Newton: Okay, fine, don’t answer.
Eddie Newton: Whichever one you feed.
Casey Newton: Good. Eat.

This lines stuck in my head for a long time. And it was really hard to open myself and feed the light and hope while I thought darkness and despair were two of my good company the whole time. 

Mood stabiliser doesn’t work like cocaine. They are not there for you so you can do all the vague flowery activities with so much energy instantly. 

To feed it is hard because it is only us who can do it to ourselves. Only you know how to feed it, or which one you want to feed, or with what you want to feed it. But, let me give you a cheat. Do something regularly. You can do anything and it doesn’t have to be pompous. 

Mine is: to go out from my bedroom. I don’t always talk to anyone if I still don’t want to. But I still try to go out of my room everyday even if I have to cry 3 hours before I do it.

—ps. I know you won’t be cure instantly after reading/doing this.

On Lost Memories

A friend of a friend is a depression survivor. She shared her stories to their meditation class about her lack of memory during her severe depression time. By the time my friend told me her story, I finally understand why I don’t remember many of my days. 

I am lack of traces of my past. 

Other than that, I finally got the explanation on why my past relationships sucks big time. My memory mixed up. I was probably just hallucinating and created my scenarios the whole time. 

Did my relationships even real? 

Guilty feeling covers and strangle me as I write this post. Now I am imagining what was really happened the whole time during my bad days? All I remember was the feeling. The feeling of getting hurt, confusion, the headache as I cried nights and days. But I can’t remember what had happened. 

No wonder my friend told me I am inconsistent. 

It is not impossible that maybe.. just maybe, I am not trying to update my point of view. I probably made the statement and just forget it. I probably don’t even care what I said. Probably I was just spitted it out without even remember that somebody else is listening.

My memory follows how I feel.

It means, I can remember If I feel good. If I feel what’s happening around me is interesting. If I know everything is in order. If I can manage how I feel through out the day.  

I know I need to know what happened, but I am too afraid. I am too afraid to know the truth. I am too afraid if later, I end up just draining my energy and still not remember a thing. 

On Being Inconsistent

To be seen as inconsistent probably is one of my many fears. I always get emotional every time someone pointed this to my face. They actually didn’t blame me for it, but it disturbs my ego. My ego on being ideal.

But no one is ideal I believe. 

During my last session, we spent 1.5 hours just to talk about this inconsistency. One example for sure about this, is to share to public on life with mental health issue. Many times, I saw people share about this in super romantic way. They seem so comfortable to embrace it, and made many of my surroundings thought that having mental health issue is really cool. 

It is not. 

To be honest, having a blog dedicated for my wandering minds and my mental health is terrifying. My mind is filled with intrusive thoughts on how people would comment about my posts. How people will judge me on what I share. How they will laugh about it. Basically my head is filled with my make-believe evil thoughts. But I feel that I need to write it and share it properly somewhere.

So I decided to be inconsistent from my past view of not openly talk about this.

My shrink told me, it is okay to be inconsistent. Because from the very first place, even my brain is indecisive. And the mood swings too often. 

But again, I don’t want it to be a justification. 

So I discussed this further with a friend.

He told me, it is okay to be inconsistent. Because being one takes so much courage, and it means I’m brave enough to admit that I have different point of view from my past self, and I’m brave enough to spit it out.  

On Love

Who knows, sadness and anger make me feel so alive.

For someone who is afraid of commitment, I am probably one of those naive people who just love too much. With many B-rated failed love stories behind, I’m surprisingly still letting myself fall for someone so easily. Every time I fall for someone, I secretly laughed and told myself ‘again, being too easy to feed your inner teenager. Feeling lighter in a blink and sink for many years ahead’ 

There are no formula for feelings nor relationships. And every crushes have their own story and level of intimacy. 

I recently experienced the one of the most confusing crush. Where I can’t really describe how it really feels. I fell for a really good friend of mine. And I know that I will fall for him from the very first time we know each other. This feeling towards him felt like when someone decided to make a Sharknado movie. It’s a really bad idea, it’s good. 

He doesn’t want a commitment. I don’t know what’s really on his mind. He did tell me about this, but well I can’t read someone else’s mind. But he said he just decided not wanting it with anyone. At least for now (He did not said this part, but I’m sure anyone would open themselves by the time they know with whom who they want to be together or when the person is worthy enough the hassle). 

But, I’ve never been so open to someone, literally and figuratively. 

Ironically, not being in a commitment with him is a big commitment. A serious one. At least for me. I keep making myself not wanting a commitment in order to be able to go out with him. It’s been almost a year since I had this, and day by day, it’s just making me more confuse. And in this golden time of suicide, to take my own life seems always on top of my how to deal with it. To deal with the confusion, heart break, anger, the caring, the love, shortly: both good and bad vibes.

I need to keep myself sane, and I need to save my life. But to let go feels so wrong. I don’t believe myself to talk about this publicly. I’m shaking typing this. And to admit this.  I’ve never been this confuse.