The Bad Magic Dust

Last night, as I was lying down on my best sleeping position, I stared upon our bedroom window. The light outside passed through it's glass which made the room half-lit. It was the only light that made that dark room glow before my eyes. The sight struck me that I was alone again regardless of the presence of my family beside me. I was alone in the sense of fighting my own battle. It has been a week that I have been submerged in my own prison, another irrational depression.

Deep in my darkness there is also this light from a window, the light which gives spark to my little hopes. "How long will this last? How long should I hope?" these made me ask myself if it was worth it. When will I know that I have to stop hoping? This battle would last a lifetime, would last forever. There was nothing we could do but hope until I get cured.

All we could do was hope and pray.

My pillow was soaked in my tears of sadness. I hold tight to it as if it was my child. If I was God, if I was its mother, I could not bear to see my child suffering. I would hug it close to my heart to let it feel that this battle was not to be faced alone. I would protect my child with my life, that is what I would do. But where is my God?Where is my mother?Where is my protector? Should she be here tonight tucking me into bed, caressing my hair and assuring me that everything would be alright.

Waking up today wasn't better as it was yesterday. My head is throbbing and my eyes are sore. Busy people keeps on coming in and out of our house. I suppose I was the only one not busy with normal things. I was caught up in a higher form of analyzing. I was busy trying to keep myself from going all "cuckoo" and end up at some local mental hospital. My brother and cousins are as annoying as the lead role of the film I'm watching. Whoever made the film I was watching, I wish he'd kill everyone at the end of the movie. It was all too stupid and too scripted. They always get the happy ending when in reality they all die.

Looking at my silly relatives and hearing them laugh at stupid jokes made me even furious. How could they manage a laugh at a very low form of idiocracy. How could they enjoy and have fun when someone was already dying from the other side of the world. How could they take everything less serious. It grew me even mad, worst than madness could tell. I want to tie them down and tape their mouths to silence.

My little baby dog starts barking outside and it just adds up to my uncontrollable temper. I rushed to him and seized its snout. I pulled its collar up choking him to death. He stared at me and I realized I was killing it. I was a murderer. I let him loose and went inside the house crying. I didn't dare to look back. What have I done?Am I mad already?.

I took a shower assuming that this madness was somewhat like a bad magic dust sprinkled all over me. I was hoping that I could wash all of it away. I stood there wet and crying. I keep on telling myself "I am not sick. I am not sick". But who am I fooling? I know I was. This Bipolar disorder is getting everything I have away from me.

it's getting everything I have away from me

People would say its nothing compared to cancer or AIDS. But NO! It is worst than that. Those other conditions are diseases which weakens the immune system. This one doesn't just attack and weakens you. It takes command entirely over your body to go against itself. It is a threat not only to self but to other people as well. It takes away your God-given gift of free will. It takes away your virtues and your beliefs. Bipolar disorder has less been taken seriously. You would say it is all in the mind and it's a hormone-related stuff, a trauma bullshit. But those who suffer from it, like me, dies and suffer like cancer patients too. It is a killer and a thief.

Besides being self-destructive, what I'm totally scared of is when the time comes that I would loose this battle; let my love ones die in my own hands against my free will. This killer in me is what I am trying to keep locked up. My meds are piling in a heap. Every pill is important to keep me sane.  But sometimes those pills fail too. And every time they do, I always hope that I and my God won't fail the same way.

Tadz

The need to EXPRESS

I had enough of yesterday, and today didn't help as well. There was a storm in me. A great flood was drowning me to my own death. I couldn't be what I wanted to be. I was tied down to this bad feeling and all these dark clouds started to gather above me and rain over me.

And yes, I had a bad day! A hopeless one. It seemed that Lenka was right, "trouble is my friend". It goes wherever I go. At any moment I could have broken down and started dying helplessly with this unresolved and unexpressed feelings.

I couldn't bother my friends for a hug, or an ear to talk to. I wouldn't go to my psychiatrist nor my psychologist. It would be another talk to my purse. Every session would cost me around P500-P1000 pesos. I was looking for some alternatives. But cheap and fast as my condition was slowly eating everything that is left of me.

Entering the Guidance Center, I was greeted by this blond old woman. She had small eyes peeking from her small-framed spectacles, resting on her powdered nose. She asked me for my concerns and asked me to write down my name on a piece of a cut-out recycled paper.

Bringing with her my name, I sat in the receiving area staring at one of the councilor's son. He was playing with his toy cars. He would slam the car into his toy truck and shouted in victory. This boy was a bit harsh. He was violent to be playing car-crash-pretend. I could tell that he was enjoying this mini-manipulated accident.

The old woman with the blond hair came back. She was holding a folder in her hands and went to approach me. I was  asked if it would be okay for me to talk to a male councilor. Left with no choice and on a state that needs immediate attention, I said yes without bothering anymore.

She gave the folder, she was holding, to a man sitting inside the room across me. I was called inside and asked to sit down. I sat comfortably on the soft yellow-green sofa. He closed the door and the window-blinds.

He sat across me and smiled. Before He could ask me a question, my eyes started flooding,  everything was blurred and my heart was pounding faster and harder. I burst into tears. He offered me a box of tissue and I pulled three sheets.

He began asking what I wanted to tell him. I cried more and started to tell him how I felt. My words were not clearly spoken. My thoughts seemed to break and rush all at once. He let me cry first and when I was able to hold my sudden rush of emotions, I went narrating what happened earlier.

He didn't interrupt until I had finished my story. He kept on staring at me keenly as if he was reading my thoughts. After telling him what happened, he asked me further questions and I cried a lot again. Base on what I told him, I am one of the people who kept their feelings and emotions repressed.

From the things that my friend did to me, I was not able to talk back despite the hurt feelings she made me feel. I was a social introvert. I held feelings and thoughts secretively. I was one of the shy types and it wasn't good for me, he said.

(Don't wait until it burst painfully)

Holding back and reserving what I really felt was not helping me at all. It is in the nature of humans to express. We need to release what we truly want in order for us to be heard and to be known. Because every time we keep these feelings in us it doesn't go away. It builds up inside until it fills and eventually explode.

 My current condition may have been caused by these habit of repressing emotions. My sleeping pattern, my hallucinations and my difficulty in discerning reality from imagination may have been the effects. Since I have been keeping my emotions and issues in me, I was not able to address these problems. My mind have placed these unattended feelings into my thoughts.

There are situations where I thought  I dreamt it all. Yet it all happened and it was the reality. I remember them as blurry and vague scenes. It could have been the mechanism of my subconscious mind that the things I cannot accept or solved may have stored these realities into dreams.

He told me to recognize these feelings and accept them. It wouldn't be easy. Habits are not easy to break. We need to diligently correct them over and over again until we form a new habit. He also mentioned about my poor self-concept.

I need to correct this because it has it's disadvantages for me. The tendency is that I am easily manipulated and turned against myself. A small discouragement will influence me to do the opposite and change the opinions/beliefs I have established. I need to build a stronger foundation and stand for what I believe in. I should not let others stir my own sail. I am my own captain and I should sail wherever I want to.

No one can hurt and oppress us, if we do not let them. We should speak up and learn to say no to things we do not want to. All of us are given the potentials. No one is higher than the other. We only differ as to how we see ourselves and as to how we use these potentials. We must start now and do it over and over again until it becomes our nature, our habit.

Respect is to be earned. We need to demand for it.

Learn to EXPRESS, but also learn to control aggression as well.

❤Tadz