If you happened to bump into me, you will find me shaking, jerking or suddenly having a twitch. It has been like that for days.
I’ve been hiding at home because of this but yesterday I think I know what God wants to teach me. I was in a shopping mall, trying to choose bedsheet for the new bed with the help of my sister. My parents were just accompanying me too.
I had troubling explaining finding tack-it from the bookstore after that. I went circulating the stationery area twice but couldn’t find it. The me before would probably circulate another 3 rounds to find it. I am the kind of person who finds it hard to ask for help because I would want to do it on my own. I finally mustered up courage to ask the worker, describing it in the best way I can – plasticine-like, doesn’t peel off paint from the wall, used to stick stuff. I finally found it and I held the item so dearly as though I found treasure.
What God wants me to know is not to care of how others would think of me and how others would judge me. I sometimes have no control over the shaking and jerking so I let it be and still went about doing the things I wanted to do, even in public.
What God also wants me to know that it’s ok to be lost and to open my mouth to ask, no matter how silly the question is.
What God wants me to do is share my thoughts, fear, worries to people close to me so that I don’t get jammed up inside.
What God wants me to know is it’s ok to let others help me and it’s ok to rely on them.
As what I told my mum, God is grinding and moulding me. I don’t know what else he wants to teach me but I’m trying everyday to cope and to get back to being Grace again.
There was a cockroach in the toilet this morning. I started panicking. Wanted to kill it but I was so helpless. I went to another toilet but before going in, I told my mum who was in the kitchen that there’s a cockroach. She came to my rescue. I had a panic attack after she sprayed the cockroach.
Looking back at it now, I find it funny how a small creature can set me off to a panic attack.
Went to see a psychologist today who has the same name as my fiancé. He can’t help but let out a little laugh when I told him about the incident today.
I woke up feeling groggy (in other words still depressed), lying on the couch, still trying to get a grip of myself. My sister came and sit next to me and switched on the TV, not something she would usually do on a working weekday. Next, she told me about the plane crash. I turned to look at the TV which was showing images of the plane burning and a big headline over CNN channel. I immediately went into a panic attack. An intense one that is, followed with 2 drops of tears.
I called out to my sister but I guess she was too focused on the TV. It was after my third call-out for her name did she realised I was trembling. She stroked my back to comfort me and then she switched channel. It was a bit too much for me to bear.
I was okay listening and watching the news after that in the afternoon. A very sad day indeed.
This is what I discovered for this round of my depression relapse.
As of writing now (9pm), I’m a happy lady, all normal. Hence, based on the past days, my mornings are usually the shittiest. Then it gets better as the day goes along. Some days I’m not very hyper and chirpy but I would feel ok. Some days, I feel light and joyful.
This is better as compared to my first major depression where I was basically just shitty all day long, except for the suicidal thoughts that came this round. I can tell you I can kind of understand why a person would commit suicide because at that point of time, they can’t think and all they want is out – to end it.
I know mine are just thoughts because when I read about the young guy who committed suicide at the shopping mall just recently, I told myself I’m not going to be like him. And I keep reminding myself about all the people who love me, no matter how hard it gets when the depression creeps in. Easier said than done but I will fight this nonsense off.
I can only pray that I will wake up tomorrow feeling chirpy. And on another note, if you ask me which is tougher, depression or dengue, it would be depression. The suffering of dengue now is nothing to me.
When a little girl shouts “Yay” while jumping up and down at the sight of me.
Having a supportive dad who still treats me like I’m his little girl. He rubs my bruised knees and forehead.