Ah the gift that keeps on giving…

The visit to the doctor was good. He had the look of my grandfather when he was alive and a very soothing voice. He never mentioned the phrase ‘will power’ just said that he understood where I am coming from and that it happens in life, nothing to be ashamed of. Got prescribed Xanax (Alprazolam) and Prodep for 15 days to see what happens. I am going to keep going to the gym and try to be as positive as I can be. I will also try to make as much headway as I can with my Statistics unit.

Hope comes in 20 mg

Bad News? My mother got diagnosed with Duct Carcinoma at an early stage and has opted to undergo mastectomy as my aunt is undergoing chemo right now after a similar incidence. She has always been supportive of me and I can’t afford to breakdown because I have a younger sister to take care of as well. I just hope she makes it through this ordeal. If you can, please keep my mother in your prayers.

‘Strength’ is a Weakness…

Not you…

My father repeatedly tells me and my mother that I need to be stronger…psychologically. That I suffer from depression and associated bundles of joy because I am not strong enough. Oh and the cherry on that cake? He is a physician himself.

Strength is a duplicitous word. Most people think it is to be this impenetrable wall that is going to stand tall through everything. Well a wall might be that, but a person and their psyche is a lot more complex than bricks. So when I am told that I am not strong enough, at first it stings. And then I realize I have been pretty strong for the last 21 years, taking pretty much all kinds of things the universe could throw at me. But I need help now and that doesn’t make me neither strong nor weak. It makes me a person who needs help. And I have made my peace with it.

[I have an appointment with a psychiatrist this Saturday. Here’s to hoping he won’t turn out to be horrible. I have a ‘when is the other shoe going to drop’ kind of a fear about life. Hence, the hope about the doc.]

Here Goes…

I am going to get through this.

That’s what I kept telling myself in the shower. I will make it through. I have survived an entire high school period of bullying, family trouble I will get through this. I will try my best not to assign blame to anyone or any incident. I am going to make it through because I will. I know sheer force of will won’t be enough but I have to accept that I have a problem, a psychological issue that I have to work through. And I need to stop associating my deferred subject (Statistics) with fear and what-ifs. I will make sense out of it and it will be fine. Now excuse me while I keep repeating that to myself every time my heart starts racing.

I had a really bad day yesterday and today hopefully will be okay, okay enough for me to go outside.

Why indeed…

I never thought I would have to write about cutting. If you had asked me even four months back I would have said “No, I don’t self-harm!”. But right now as I look at my arms littered with angry welts from digging my long nails into my own flesh, I don’t know what went wrong. I remember looking at the mirror and my fists reverberating in my skull all the while half-sobbing and calling myself “STUPID”. Logically I know I am not stupid, but that’s a tale for another day.
All I can say now is that when my nails sink into my arm I can regain some semblance of control, I can hold back my tears and pretend to at least play normal, because let’s face it I am never going to be fine or normal. Passably socially functional probably. Normal? Not by a long shot. An entire childhood of bullying, dysfunctional parents and dwindling self-esteem has taken care to sink that ship like the Titanic.

Watch the video if you or anyone you know is going through similar things and maybe another sunny day from now we won’t rain on the inside.

Here is why…

I need a place to put these thoughts. These are dark thoughts, ugly with burned edges and leave an acrid taste at the back of my throat. They fill my head, shouting and whispering in a hoarse voice. So here I keep them in the only way I have ever known, by twisting them into words and locking them away.