Overheard Conversations

Today I overheard a father and his teenage daughter in a little bookshop distinctively discussing about depression. He casually said, I rephrased him, “Many of these depressed people often have a lot of humour in them, they make other people happy but they are depressed” and he continues to discuss this with the owner of the bookshop wondering in questions of “Why are they so depressed but they can be so witty? Funny isn’t it?” “What kind of depression are they having?” To which his teenage daughter answered “There’s only one type of depression, Dad, it’s depression”
I wished I had enough courage to tell him and share a little bit of what it feels like to be depressed but I didn’t think it as appropriate to discuss such a heavy topic with strangers that I didn’t even say hello to.
And here I am having that question posted every 5 seconds in my mind and I have to answer it.

Humour is our armour, disguise as happiness

It is also a goal at the end of our fight with depression

I can relate to that as people would not have guessed that I have depression because I am always that bubbly, happy, joyful, girl.
Only those who knows me really well would guess but still unsure until I confirm it. I look strong and optimistic all the time. Really, it is a show that I am trying to believe in but deep inside, I crumble and my welled up tears makes my heart a sea of mud. Humour and happiness is the sun that dries the surface of my sea of mud, until the surface cracks, no one would know that beneath this solid surface is a sea of mud.


Therapy: 2

Yesterday was my second session with my psychologist. Therapy is really exhausting and it needs a lot of determination. Every time I feel a little better I think to myself that I don’t need therapy because ‘Hey! Look, today I am able to handle this. I can hold myself together.’, then the next moment I feel like I am eaten by a whirlpool and is dragged to the bottom of the sea. Actually, sometimes I don’t even feel anymore. I am transforming to an inanimate living thing. I don’t know which is worse, to feel so extremely or to not feel at all. Incapability is paralyzing.

I am more receptive to this second session despite still feeling very intense at the session. I broke a rule of not getting a drink and or a cigar. I did both after my session. I had two drinks and three cigarillos. I shouldn’t but I shudder.

In yesterday’s session she reminded me on how much of a fighter I am. Despite all the shit that skipped the fan and hit me straight, I am still fighting. It is a painful fight. I feel so weak because I ended up in therapy, in that room, discussing on how to think. I feel a little insulted to have to have someone teach me to think that costs me 250 dollars per hour. I feel weak because I can’t even handle myself. I don’t know how to be happy. I need someone to tweak me so that I can be happy. Seriously, why the fuck? Why the hell? Why?

We decided to record my thoughts so that we can analyze my thoughts. But I have done that all these years, changing my thoughts, thinking in a positive manner, yet I ended up being bruised, hurt, and now I have drained almost all of my soul. Will this work? I am being skeptical. I am torn.

We will need me to plan my schedule daily. To slot in things that I used to enjoy to try and bring me back to being me. I didn’t know that I have to relearn to be myself. This is beginning to sound so ridiculous.

The hardest lesson in life is learning to be yourself again, you can’t walk away from yourself because you are always present despite being a stranger to yourself

How did I end up being like this? Maybe I have always been like this. Maybe it is normal. Maybe it is abnormal. I don’t know.

I need to befriend myself, to be gentle to myself, to acknowledge myself.

How can I be a stranger to myself when I enjoy spending time with myself, when being alone is so comfortable. It is called isolation. I am suppose to break that. I am suppose to overcome that.

My therapist told me that I need to get myself to start doing things I enjoy and slot them into my daily life that I need to relearn to be myself, I need to give myself time to do so and I cannot expect myself to be perfect at it. I have to follow my schedule despite my emotions, I cannot give in to my emotions but at the same time if I am not doing well I need to be gentle to myself because I am relearning. I feel like I am being disciplined, life feels like a drill now.

This is a mental militant. And it is no where near fun or comfortable.

Who would have thought that you need to learn to be yourself all over again? And who would have thought how tough it is? Certainly not me.


Do you know what is really sad?

To be consciously sad yet clueless about the sadness itself

I don’t even know why am I crying or why do I feel so hollow and empty inside. I don’t know what makes me sad because nothing is not making me sad. I just need to breathe to be sad.

Most days I am numb, I am slowly becoming incapable of feeling, I feel so fake within me. I am so confused that I don’t even know what I am feeling. I feel like I am feeling nothing. I laugh but I am not happy, I cry but I am not particularly sad. I am slowly not feeling. As if emotions are dead. I am indifferent. That’s right, that’s what I am becoming or perhaps became.

I tried eating all my favourite food or food that I would enjoy but I realize that nothing tastes good to me. I am slowly not bothered about eating as I cannot taste the flavours in them. I am slowly but surely feeling that I am not hungry and eating is like a chore. So I began to stuff myself with food but I almost always ends up feeling sick and throw up.

I cannot seem to find flavours in a lot of things, in life. I am either dazing or numbing. Anesthesia, that’s what it is. A full form flesh with heartbeat of nothingness. That’s what I have become. I don’t even know how to feel about this. It feels like I am getting better because I am not particularly sad but not happy as well, just that nothingness. I don’t even know how to react while writing this down. Perhaps it is my wish coming through, as I wished that I couldn’t feel when I was sad.

I can’t seem to find that familiarity of feelings, emotions, connections, and that same flavours that I once had. It lingers about somewhere near me but I can’t seem to grasp it. Is this even depression? Because I honestly feel that it is all in my head under that skull.

Maybe it is sad to live in the memory of feelings and emotions under this spell of anesthesia. Maybe it is what it is, but what is this?


Today could have marked the 5th year that we are together. Today could have been a day of celebration. Today could have been a lot more things if we hadn’t broken up 7 months ago, if we didn’t meet 13 years ago, if we didn’t get together 5 years ago. Today could have been a lot of things.

It hurts to realize that today was the day that we chose to brave it through but didn’t quite come through. I asked if you were sure because it would be a very challenging relationship with our circumstances. You told me that you were and that you didn’t want to let another chance with me slip by like before, that we will do this together and that you will stand by me. Each year after that we celebrated though the ups and downs in between could have and did tear us apart. But we celebrated and 2 years ago we celebrated together not apart and we went to all the places that we went to when I first visited you. Though I noticed that you were a cold towards me. We dined at a nice Italian restaurant and we walked hand in hand and it was our anniversary but you were not as warm or happy as I expected you to be. I didn’t understand it at all. I do now.

The more I understand, the more painful it is. The more I know, the more it hurts.

You never loved me like the way I did. I don’t mean the extent that I loved you, I mean that you didn’t love me as I genuinely love you for who you are, your existence, your presence, you. You didn’t love me genuinely, because you repeatedly nit-pick at my flaws and you magnify them and then you try to convince yourself to love me regardless. The problem is you tried to love me, all these years you never did love me, you tried. The more you try, the more frustrating it got. Then you began to put me under a microscope and dissect me away, to find reasons to love me or to justify your findings, that I do not know. But the more you do so the more you dislike me and everything I did begin to be an irritant to you.

While you were trying, I did too. I tried to be that perfect picture in your head and I obviously failed because I began to realize that no matter what or how much I do, I cannot change the fact that,

You never did love me, you just love the idea of loving me

and that hurts


3 days and it is still numbness.

What the hell is going on?

Seriously I am exhausted.

It is either PAIN or DAZE.

Dysfuction that’s what my bloody brain is

Therapy: 1

First therapy in 10 years. I am my own record breaker, not the good kind of boast.

After fighting depression on my own after my last counseling 10 years ago and going back to seeking help from someone besides myself, feels like the greatest defeat. Acknowledging that all my efforts and strength and hard work had crashed and crumbled before me. That was intense.

I felt well in the morning and yesterday was better than most of the other days in the past weeks. I tried to slide off from the appointment because it would really signify my defeat. I managed well for so many years, I fought through so much difficulties and I always managed to pick myself up and walk on. I was so sure that I can fight this one, I was reluctant, and I wanted to turn around and walk away. It hit me, I felt that pang of pain again right there at the red light. All the reflections started appearing.

I know that lately it has been bad when it starts affecting me physically, my motor movements are rigid, my heartbeat is Ferrari, my find is nothing but a big cloud of floating fluff, I cried for 2 seconds and remained numb for 200.

As I was about halfway to the hospital, the intensity increases, the nearer I was the more intense it became. Walking to the registration and saying that I am there to see the psychologist is so heartbreaking. That feeling of defeat is so intense as I walked through the walkway and it got real when I get into her clinic, filling those forms.

She started talking, telling me how it will be like an interview to get to know me better and understand my situation. I broke those tears and the more I speak the more I cried, the more intense it became. Having to tell her everything and have her questions answered was like breaking all the shell, wall, and grid leaving me raw at my worst.

Before ending today’s session my psychologist suggested that we try CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy), deep breathing, and a guided relaxation therapy. She told me to relax as I have the tendency of muscle tension.

After the therapy I went for a movie and was holding up with occasional tears, as I walked out of the cinema to my car, it was all hell broke loose. I couldn’t stop crying and breathing got really hard, that feeling of vulnerability and raw is magnified and focused. I had to throw up, my head was pounding, my heart was racing, my airway narrowed, and my tears wouldn’t stop. I tried the deep breathing, it was challenging, I felt like I couldn’t breathe, it was probably 50 sets of short breaths when it was meant to be 10 deep breaths. The people outside of the toilet cubicle only made it worse and I was waiting for them to leave so that I can come out and no one would witness this mess. They left, I rushed out, washed my face, and held it in until I reached my car. By then, I was numb.

I drove off to another place to meet a close friend and I briefly told her about the therapy but we both didn’t get into details. That numbness lasted until now. It was all too much for me to handle in a day. I  wanted to know what are the types of depression I am facing but I was too afraid to ask my psychologist because I know that I couldn’t manage. In 2 weeks, I hope I am better prepared to know.

And Clinical Psychologist is a very intimidating term so as Psychiatrist.

Dear You and You,

Do you wish that sometimes your brain would have so much capacity and strength in a certain situation? Because now that you are out of that situation, there’s this influx of comebacks, retorts, and statements that surged and flooding your mind. I have that right about now. If only I wasn’t in so much shocked and disbelief at what was happening.

I had expression paralysis. I froze in speech and expression. I had my numb face on because I wouldn’t want to let these people to see me hurting and crying. They don’t deserve to see my tears or hear me sob.


The Case: Ex-boyfriend

Someone whom I dated in a serious relationship, at least it was serious to me (someone that claimed that he wanted to be married to me and to start a family with) for four years and one that I had given up 6 months of my youth to flying to another country as a visitor, jobless, and blew my entire savings just so that we can be together, broke my heart and the cage that he had been keeping me in.

He said it to my face that,

“I had so much anxieties when you were here. Honestly, now that you are gone, all my anxieties are gone'”

I was not freeloading on him, I cooked, cleaned, did the laundry, ironing, and whatever I could and I did not demand any form of gifts or money, I paid for all my airfares in full. So apparently, all of that gave him anxieties.

I chose to come back because financially it was so difficult and I didn’t want him to go through a crisis. I came home to no job, no money, and restart button. He still has a house, car, job, money, and a vacation that costs thousands which he claimed that he wished I was there with him.

He once said to me, “I did not chase you out of my house, leave you out on the street, low and dry”

The Reply

Having said that I am the cause of your anxieties, you set yourself up for it. You convinced me to come and live with you and you convinced me that you want to be married to me and start our family when I asked you if you are sure that you want to be married to me because being married and being married to someone is two different scenario, you said, “YES I AM VERY SURE”. Your anxieties were because you had to pay for grocery for two and utilities and whenever we go out. Let me get it straight, I do buy some stuff for your home and I did not claim it back from you and basically you had a housekeeper that wage on food and shelter. Your grocery is high because you wanted to have steak and a lot of meat and you would buy them from the supermarket. Your utilities are high because you change clothes like they are disposables, your clothes needs ironing, and you are so selective with the cooking method, I had to use the oven. Whenever we go out, it is mostly because your friends invited us and I don’t pay because I was not working and I could not afford but you wanted me to come along.

My Blame Game Reply

You did not leave me out in the street, low, and dry. That is because you were afraid that your family and friends will find out, which they will. You were afraid that they will see who you really are and that they will judge you. You had to make up stories of why I left you and that is because you cannot own up to what you did. You react this way because you know what you did to me was terrible and they will be disappointed in you because in their eyes you are that good honorable man, that good son, that God loving person. You did not left me out, low, and dry. But you did bring out the ghost of me. You called the ghost out and left, leaving it to haunt me. You are not the cause of my depression as I was “the cause” of your anxieties, but you inflicted it, you lit up that time bomb burrowed in my chest and then you lingered to tease my wounds until I cut you off by shutting all access and reside in my igloo.


The Case: Ex-best friend

Someone that I knew for 14 years now, someone that I would drop everything for when she needs me, someone whom I actively care for and not hesitate to take care of, told me a week after I left that guy mentioned above that, “You are the cause of my depression of lately” , “You are too weak to help me” and “You are not offering me any solutions to my problems” after that series she had another few seasons of drama which I was still putting up with because she is depressed. Someone that could forget that she had plans to meet me and who would choose to go out with other people before me and called me her best friend. Months and months I did not hear from her, only if I put my effort to contact her I would hear a word or two.

The Reply

Let me get it straight for you, I am not the cause of your depression of lately. You have depression and I added on to it by unloading my pile on you but I was there for you too. Those moments of silence was when I was praying for you because I did not know what to say because I could not give you solutions to your problems. I was there to comfort you but that was not too comfortable I guess. Missy, this is your life and I can’t run it for you. Whenever I encourage you or ask you on your situation, you will give me snide remarks and sarcasm and a whole lot of bitterness then blame it on depression. Those are damaging, as if my words were hurting you and digging your wounds, so instead I prayed for you and be there in person so that you weren’t alone.

I was indeed to weak to help you, I needed help. You helped me by reluctantly listening to me and begrudgingly advising me. You were right that I had to talk about my issues all the time and there isn’t a time whenever we meet up that I would not talk about what I was facing. You wanted the exclusivity where only you can talk about your issues. I couldn’t give you that and you discounted me from everything else.

My Blame Game Reply

You said I was inconsiderate, how considerate are you then? By telling me that I am the cause of your depression right after I was told that I was the cause of another’s anxieties. You are not the cause of my depression because I had that since I was young, it was under control but you did some pretty good decoration with lighting some fireworks alongside its explosion. Mind you, depression is not a license to mistreating people, throwing your tantrums, and flaunting your drama around. It can happen in the course of depression but you can have the decency of apologizing and treating people better when you realize that you screwed up. Depression is not a license to get away and getting your way.