I read somewhere that an estimated 350 million people worldwide suffer from depression. To give you some perspective, that's 5 percent of the population. There's no question that depression is fairly common, and there's no one-size-fits-all way to manage it.
Not surprisingly, but a year has passed and I call 2020 my "dead year". It's exactly one year since my world turned upside down, and I still have little pain whenever I think about those dark times; I don't want to recall it. But now I realize that I need to write it down in order to move the fuck on and forget all about it. I lived age 0-29 "normally" and probably some stress once in a while, but most of the time I felt alive, healthy, and well. Each year, I always think about which passing years was my favorite and worst ones. Funny, me and one of my best pal Yogi, we love to talk about this "fav year" thingy as well. I personally loved 2012, loved 2018, I hated 2017, but damn.. nothing would ever beat 2020 in terms of dark times. It ain't come to play.
It supposed to be a great one. Tahun cantik, they say. I had plans. Surprisingly last year, I got really drowned in a stage where I'm asking.. basically everything. First few months, my world revolves around staying at home due to pandemic, seeing so many deaths and sickness of people I know, and my own parents and our personal assistant got COVID. I had to take care of them and put on full APD/ Personal Protective Equipment, driving them to hospital, and I remember I was crying in the entrance door of the hall where they were placed, while feeling super suffocated (due to the attire). Being the responsible one at home with a brother to take care was really hard because I also had to take care of my own sanity. I I also don't understand why I declined all sorts of attention/love. I didn't know if anything could make me happy for quite some time. Home feels like jail, your own relatives keeping you nuts and undervalued, friends starting to "test" you, relationships were broken... All of these episodes happened in a periodical of months.
It may sounds dramatic now, but I woke up almost every morning crying in bathroom around April to August. I was anxious about everything. I was coming to the stage where I feel really hesitant to live, but I don't wanna die as well. I didn't want to die, but I didn't have the desire to chase my dreams again. The word "dreams" even sounds illogical. Hell, I can't even travel anywhere due to fucking pandemic, I was trapped in the house. Then I came into some really, really dark moments, where I start questioning what would happen if I cut myself. Just a little bit. Just to feel some pain. Maybe, through that way, I thought it might help me to feel "something". Thankfully, I didn't do it back then. But those pivotal moments helped me identify how bad my emotional being was.. and I decided to seek for professional help. Thus, I started the new journey unto itself of rediscovering what life and this world was without the weight of depression. I realized, quickly, it was time to make new personal daily journals to keeping up with my reality and validating every feeling I have, rather than suck it alone in this tiny body.
A lot of depression and anxiety come as reoccurring thought patterns that are often brutal, like a car that keeps backing up and slamming into the same wall. I remember that moment, also in 2020, where I got my lab results from ongoing menstrual cycle problem that happen for years; only to find that I wasn't diagnosed with PCOS; instead I am a poor responder of AMH (Anti Mullerian Hormones); which is a condition where one has poor responding mechanism with ovulation/proliferation process. That's why my menstruation cycle had been wildly unstable. If people have normal amount of ovum, I have the below the normal amount. The lower you have it, the lower the chance you have good healthy eggs. And it will get decreased naturally with the process of aging. Harshly saying; I can enter menopause stage earlier, because my ovum level is down there. I have lower chance of being pregnant than anyone else as well and every passing day hits like a cruel clock. I still remember that day clearly, it was a day before Christmas: I was just finished with my eyelash-extension appointment (lol), and I got my result via friend who's working at the lab and send it right away to dr.Ciwi (my obgyn) and discussed it. I burst into massive tears in the car. I cried until my eyes swollen for two days. And I moved on with life.
And now you guys understand why I rarely blog in 2020. Heartbreak, regrets, home situation, health problem, and other thing that I can't explain here. It was just too overwhelming.
I realized that I still have this episode of anxiety when some days I still have some random thoughts like; "what if I'm always gonna be lonely", "what if I will never bear a child due to my health", "how if I can't escape home and responsibility", or "two years from now, where will I be?"; and this serial of "what if's" makes my heart beats so rapidly fast, my throat hurts, my stomach hurts, and my mood is ruined for the whole day.
I also realized that FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) has been around far longer than social media, social medias such as Instagram seem to trigger feelings that others are having more fun or living better lives than you are. It leaves many people feeling envious, angry, or simply unhappy. In the past, I used social medias to express my gratitude and art, whether it's just very awesomely-edited travel pictures and my random poetic captions. It felt great and releasing this dopamine in my head every time a "like" or "love" comes along. Now it has been quite a while since I found it toxic and make me compare my life with others. The feeling of unworthiness, under-achiever, and so on.. It needs to go for now. That's why I am saying goodbye to Instagram for almost two months already and I feel MUCH better.
Seeing these people going on with their lives, makes me question about my entire life. It seems that I really lost my old-self. My old-self, however the problems might be, will always find a light at the end of the tunnel. Now it has been an ongoing problem for a while: the darkness seems endless. What do I really want now? What can really make me happy? I really want to live by myself just now, probably somewhere in Switzerland (lol), at least anywhere but this city. If I can't have my own little family near this time, solitude is the only thing that I am most comfortable with. Far away from family that's so uneasy to deal with. I have my own mind and sadly it's so easy being misunderstood. I guess our parents a.k.a boomers are never aware that we're living in different era. Our struggles are different. But you know what, fight me, but in the end parents are always more important. They would always come first. Their needs are the keys. "Oh they are old, poor them. They are already stressed enough." Sometimes I think that we, as children are their products, so we are expected to act in their behalf. And it controls our emotional well being, since we are a child. But if not voicing my opinion is the only way I could get rid of unhealthy confrontations that leads to no solution; or even more strain.. let me shut my mouth then.
At least writing this feels like "talking" to someone, finally.
Well, it helped. It still helps now.
Today, I am grateful that I was still able to workout for an hour. It was a damn good workout, I lost 400 calories. I am grateful that I bought dumbbells. It was a clever decision. I am grateful I got to feel the sun, I showered with warm mater, and I tend my plants. I am grateful I had a yummy meal for lunch. I am grateful that I am writing now.
At the bottom of depression’s box there is hope. The very feeling of frailty gives me a window into the suffering of friends or other people who are waiting out this terror by themselves. The feeling of isolation awakens me that there are other people who are alone all the time.
Whatever happens, don't forget to breathe.
