I mentioned in a previous blog post that I was back on meds because I was backsliding into a depressive state. Last weekend, I had one of my worst suicidal episodes yet. I wanted to kill myself.
It was 3am on Saturday. I was laying in bed, chilling with Youtube videos, when without warning, I felt terrible. No trigger whatsoever—I just suddenly felt that everything was pointless. That I’m a worthless loser who will never amount to anything, who will always be a burden to my loved ones.
I started sobbing, tears and snot running down my face. As soon as I wiped them away, they started anew. It went on like that until 6am.
Really, I’m setting myself up for failure, because there are so many damned goals:
Meditate twice daily! Exercise! Stop smoking! Meet with Gelo!Read more books! Write more often! Eat at new restaurants! Go to the theater! Meet with YC!Visit a museum! Arrange an out of town trip with Boopy! Meet with the squad!Donate to my preferred animal shelter! Meet with Kath!
Just a few of my goals for 2019.
It’s ironic that one of my goals is “make time for yourself”. Seriously, after doing all this, how am I supposed to even keep my eyes open?
Every end of the year, I reflect on what transpired over the course of the past 365 days. I am a naturally introspective person, so I enjoy examining these events and the effects they’ve had on me.
Living with depression, it’s always the default to see things in extremes, i.e. this year has been terrible. My perspective is skewed to look at the shitty parts of life, so in this post, I’ll do my best to be as rational as possible.
In a bustling city of concrete and glass, we converged as strangers. Different people, different stories.
One thing united us, as we eventually discovered: we were all broken in some way. Our past relationships with friends, family, and romantic partners haunted us. Those ghosts followed us all the way to Ayala Avenue, where an office building stood dark and formidable.
Within those four walls, I experienced a gamut of emotions. Joy. Stress. Motivation. Pride. Anger. Sadness. You saw it all, from me helplessly weeping on the sidewalk to me practically yelling in the streets in a fit of rage.