The night after everything was different.
On
March 11, I sent my brother a message saying “I wish I’ll be dead tonight”. That
was the truest sentence I have ever blurted out during this whole fiasco of my
depression. The message was unread and un-responded. I tried to send another
message, a milder one to a friend faraway, I said “hey, whatcha doin?” again
the message was unread up until later. Now don’t be jealous if I didn’t message
you. I have a severe trust issue and I only would reach up to ones that have
been there with me. But you must be wondering why I started writing this here. I
would just share something that might be a help for someone’s reading, about
how important to address the matter.
I used
to think that depression was just a bourgeoise attitude, a sad feeling that
coddled by people who have too much time. I would never imagine myself having
it. Especially now. The fact that I had a more difficult and rougher past, and
was doing okay despite it, proves that depression and suicide was just not for
me. Boy, was I wrong. I love melancholia as my daily dose as a mellow person. A
very sensitive guy. But if you have followed my posts, you would probably know I
have been all over it lately. And it is not a melancholiac feeling. Some of you
perhaps bored of me saying how depressed I was already, some even said that I was
just looking for attention and none of it was real. Well, I might be weaving
stories to write, but ‘liar I am not’.
On that
very 11th March I knew something was wrong since I woke up in the
morning. It was anger and anxiety that creeping over me. I tried to ignore that.
I made my coffee and had a sandwich for breakfast, just plain bread with
margarine actually. I sat in front of my laptop and opened the file that I had been
working on. After twenty minutes or so, I felt the urge to just threw my
coffee mug. I abruptly closed the laptop and I swear I really wanted to hit the
wall. Just hit it. Now please remember there’s no trigger at all. I had enough food
and sleep the night before, everything was normal.
I thought,
what an energy surge, I needed to channel it somewhere. So, I decided to work
out. You might wanna say that my depression coming from a lack of physical work
out. No. This week, and this month, I’ve regularly exercised. So, I worked out that morning. A bit sweaty as well. And no, it didn’t change anything at
all. I was just still very anxious, depressed, helpless, and mad. Being a
detective I am, I was quite sure there’s something wired-ly wrong in my brain. So,
I tried to fish some serotonin by eating stuff with chocolate. Usually, it would
ease my nerve. Still, it has no effect. The more I felt like there’s nothing to
live.
I decided
to take shower. Really clean myself up with soap. I used that expensive conditioner,
boy you could smell my hair, nice grapefruit scent. The shower’s done and I ended
up sitting in front of the fan with only my towel for an hour. I felt useless and
really alone and has no meaning. Nothing to look forward to or to go to. Now
please understand, I felt lonely all the time. But it’s something new and I had
never had it before.
When the
night came, I walked toward nasi goreng stall for my first meal of the day, I decided
to cross the road recklessly so a car or a motorbike would hit me. None happened.
The food tasted so bad I threw it out after two spoons. Not long I was back in
my room and I locked myself up. At this point, I realized I must be very careful
with myself. Although back in 2019 I have been teasing with the idea of jumping
out of a window, in which my bro would just hold me back, the urge has never felt
more real than that very night. I knew that this was not because I was sad,
there just was no particular trigger, the feeling of wanting to end was very
pure and simple. I just wish I was dead, that’s all.
After I
sent a lot of messages to my brother of things I wanted to do, I got the
epiphany that was not me talking, it was the depression taking control. It was
so real it’s terrifying. Alright, I knew I wanted to die. But this craving was
only my depression talking. If reaching out doesn’t really work and non-responsive,
or if you like me (hard to trust), I then realize I couldn’t really rely on
anyone. So, I started talking to myself.
This was
not sad, this was not just anxious, was not just angry because of the past, was
not just melodramatic, this was the chemical in the brain. Maybe it was imbalance
and lack of something. That most likely there’s no dopamine produced, there’s
no serotonin. They made this hopelessness feeling overwhelming. It affects the body
and the psyche. I didn’t have any access to any doctor for them to prescribe me
something, it was late anyway. I was very dangerous to myself; I knew.
Although
by that time I had realized what was it, it was just chemical, I still had to
face it. The unsafe feeling still there. My door was still locked, and I needed
that. I stayed on the second floor, and this building has only three residents.
What tempting was, a few years back, there’s a guy who went to a tree not very
far from my place. The tree was next to a highway. He hung himself there. People
looked up to see him. I imagined I was him. I wanted it. It was easy to be
done.
On my
previous depression states, I would’ve spent a lot of time crying. And how I
knew this one was different was that I didn’t feel like crying at all. I was
just mad and hopeless, and anxious. And it was so brave and destructive.
So, I sat
on my bed, and I gulped the last liquor I had. It warmed me a bit. I popped two
Panadol in the hope it would trigger some caffeine. But I tell you, what helped me
was a half-bottle of cough syrup. I took a half bottle of Vicks formula 44 and
no long after that I was deep in sleep. I dozed off for twenty hours and when I
woke up, I felt so much better. I guessed the lost screw had fixed itself
during the reboot. I had a long weird dream as always.
I am
now writing this with a mind that’s not completely in its place but I was quite
sure I had already passed the critical phase. It was climaxed already and I promise,
I really promise that this is the last time you will ever read about this from
me. I’m no expert on this, but from what I have experienced, depression is not an exaggerated feeling, it’s clinical. Last, if you ever feel like you’re being
out of control of yourself, the first thing you need to do is to reach up. Get some
help from a doctor if you have access. If you’re like me, and I would not
recommend this to anyone, when you can’t rely on anyone, what I would do when
things are really wrong and I don’t know why, the trick that works for me is to
sleep myself off.
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