07 Oct Road to nowhere

 So, I had a terrible night. I couldn't fall asleep. I got up from my bed, angry at myself. I felt a lot of things which I wrote on the notebook. So I think letting my counselor read this blog would be better probably.

I didn't make it to work again. It bothered me a lot. Like I should just quit and stop being a burden at work, and at home. Yes, It's Friday 3.11pm. I don't know how to get through this weekend when I already feel the need to cut myself again. I think it's better to just do it, then to keep fighting it or distracting myself. It's exhausting to keep fighting my inner demons.

It's very ironic that I cut myself at home, to deal with my suicidal thoughts. Isn't this better then walking out of my house and trying to kill myself? I know there are other distractions, they simply never work when my thoughts starts drowning me.

I wished that I could have a session to look forward to, so that I could distract myself from what I want to do. But, it's 2 weekends away.

I was really grateful that my counselor was able to accept my rate, which I thank him by giving him a snack. It felt a little bit childish but it was just a small gesture that I wanted to do I guess.

He put his 2 palms together to thank me. It felt really odd to see that, and it really tug my heart a little. Not so long ago, I did that all the time, when I see the Venerables, when I see volunteers, or parents or students walking in for classes, and I do prostrations with them. I remember that I was mindful every day during that time. It reminded me of the buddha nature in him, in me. I remembered the practices that I did everyday which really anchored me.

I had enough energy and capacity then to deal with what is happening at home. My practice fell off, and I couldn't keep up or deal with my depression once I stopped. I forgot how important it was to keep to my practice.

He mentioned a group support, people who can surround me with good energy. I did used to have that.

I think the most important factor is that I should have maintain my own practice, but I fall off my routine. I always did have trouble focusing or keeping to routines, and constantly make poor decisions.

I woke up just now with my mom shouting from the window outside. I really hate it.

There are a few signs that that points to emotional abuse. I remember that I read about it some time ago, and then I realized, my tears usually just start falling once I start reading them. I would eventually just close the window, stop reading them, and block it.

I tried reading them yesterday again, and it feels painful to know when you start ticking every signs. It wasn't just 1 or 2 or 3 sighs that happen to me. It felt like I was ticking down a whole list of it.

Why I was being treated this way? It's like I never existed in the family. I was only there to see my parents hate each other, to act as someone in between them. They talk to each other through me, because they cant stand talking to each other, so I had to passed messages for them. I never mattered.

My existence is something that my mom regretted, which she told me to my face countless time.

I really don't think it matters if I died. Is it my depression talking? but it's a fact though, that I really didn't matter at all.  Even during my worst time, my mom would step on me to make sure that it's worse.

My fiancé kicked me out after we just returned from our wedding shots from korea, he said I needed to leave because he was seeing someone else and that "she" didn't like that we were still living together. I went home with all my stuff feeling pained and in emotional distress, but my mom added insult to my injury. By saying that it was my fault that the relationship ended. 

She started screaming because she hated all the clutter that I was bringing home and made me throw my stuff out. I just hauled them back myself because they were items that I really wanted to keep. I don't think I have ever felt so much physical pain in my entire life. I was just processing that I had broken up with my fiancé , I was processing the pain of knowing that he had been seeing someone else, but my mom couldn't stop screaming at me and blaming me. I could feel my blood rushing to my head, I couldn't breath, it felt like my physical body had been split into half. I was screaming in my head that, for just ONE moment in life, could she spare a thought for my feelings and what I was going through. I felt like I wanted to beg her to stop hurting me when I was already in pain.

It feels exhausting to write this all out. She kept asking me to find ways to get back with my ex. I really hate that. It didn't make sense to me to still get back together with my ex. Maybe it was my fault, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life with someone like him, or anyone else for the matter.

06 October pm Road to nowhere

 So I am really troubled if I should let my secret keeper have access to my blog, Because this is a really dark place for me to spill my dark thoughts and no one has ever had access to this, and I need to be sure that I am still writing honestly and not change what I write because someone I know might read this now.

My secret keeper thought that the cuts he saw was deep, I wondered if he really thought that because it felt like it wasn't deep, and it was really easy to slit that two lines on my wrist. I guess the problem is that I knew how bad my last attempt was, but no one else knows. That the cuts eventually did stop bleeding, but when I stretched and turn my wrist the wounds were deep enough that tiny dots of blood would start seeping through again. It's really funny how I stopped my self harm after this. Didn't I want to die? I guess it was bad enough to make me stop, so the problem is that I started doing it again.

I guess I was in a turmoil, like I still wanted to die, but I was also trying not to harm myself. Then I just did it as if to tell myself that it's fine, I still know how to do it. So I cut myself again at home, without the intention to die because I would never want my parents to find my body.

I guess that lead me to find help and throwing my money around. The money wont matter if I'm dead. Which reminded me of Dr Koh who insisted on admitting me against my will in imh. I kept insisting that I did not want to be admitted as I had to work next day, and she kind of replied that if I kill myself and died than my work won't matter, and that I should prioritize myself, which was kind of funny.

Why did my counselor want me to write all my thoughts down though, to process them and to acknowledge them? Acknowledge what? what am I not acknowledging? why did he not start on cbt and started with a daily dairy? Did he feel that I was too alone, and had no one to confide to and thus has a lot of bottled emotions?

Before I was discharged from imh, they had my social worker worked with me on my safety plan. She kept asking me who I had, to confide with, and I kept talking about having my parents around, but I support them mostly, than about that one friend that I have and who sees me as someone whom supported her. So she asked again, who do I confide in or turn to for support? I guess no one? I have always needed to be independent since young and it never occurred to me that I needed support. Even when I was sick, I try be quiet about it because my mom would find it annoying, and I just hide in my room and took care of myself. I felt uncomfortable, because the social worker looked bewildered. 

My mom would care of course, just that, she won't be happy about it I think. and I'd rather not bother her.

I think though, one time, I fractured my toe so badly, that it hurt so much that I was sure it was broken or something, my mom just smirk and shake her head, and say that I'm so clumsy, like I probably deserved it, so it was my own fault. I called a taxi and went to tan tock seng myself. I struggled a lot, to walk around. It was so painful that I felt like tearing, but I didn't want to cry. Luckily a kind soul helped me get to a wheelchair and I waited for my turn to see the doctor. I remembered that I was quite sad, this one time, because my toe really hurt. There were probably more times like this. I think I tried to change this paragraph many times, so that it didn't seem so bad. I initially wrote that my mom laughed sarcastically, but I removed that part, cause I think she didn't, just a sarcastic smirk probably.

I think my depression amplifies things and make everything seems worse than it really is. Why does all this matter, a lot of things happened in the past. Which already past anyway. I don't think all this really matters. Just let them stay buried. There was this one thing that happened though, that I sometimes think about. As usual, I told no one. Does it matter? no? what could be changed? nothing? so why would digging up buried bones help? What could be done to let me have closure? nothing? so the only thing that could happened is just forget about it. I guess I can only accept that it happened, and that's just it. It is something so bad though, that I can't even write about it or ever tell a single soul. I'm just being dramatic.

-insert laughter-

06 October Road to nowhere

Since my last attempt has disturbed me considerably, I felt obliged to spend money to seek help. It's like what my previous post said "going through the senseless motion of recovery" 

I'm here because my counselor said to write about my daily thoughts and start a dairy of some sought, which is kinda weird, I thought we would just start with some cbt methods, not that I really mind. My first concern of course would be if he will be reading it. I figured I need to filter out a lot of my dark thoughts if he would read it -insert laughter-

There were some thoughts that ran through my mind today, which I guess I should jot it down here?

Random thoughts about my counselor:

Why did he ask my age? How old is he? He's married, I hope he's in a good r/s. Is he Buddhist, he's wearing some beads. Does he even care, he doesn't seem to have any plans or structure methods. He's a SENIOR psychologist, I wanted to get someone with more experience to help me. I guess he should know what he's doing? He accepted my lower rate, maybe he will treat me base on a lower rate too. NO. He's kind to accept the lower rate, which was why I gave him a snack. I should trust him. and be patient.

Reading articles on survivors/after attempt:

well that's nice, another story of someone going through a dark time and getting out of it.

Same old story. Same suggestion and encouragement. 

Feels despair. Do I really have to do all this. How do I do it. Be positive, take the first step to be active. Immediately felt my own resistance to do it. Maybe I can call Ivy and just chat with her. seems like a lot of sources are emphasizing on social support. Imagined myself calling her and talking to her, telling her that I am calling because it was suggested in my counselling session. Imagining how she will react, and I smile. It's always nice to think that every time I think of her, it would bring a smile to my face. Maybe I should meet her up soon, but I really drag doing it, because I let on that I was hospitalized and I was depressed. I am really scared and worried that she will ask me about it. It's hard to tell her what I am going through. She knows that I have always been positive, proactive in doing a lot of things to improve myself.. but yet.. I still failed. miserably, failed miserably.. 

So my counselor replied that yes, he might read them. which I doubt, because my post are too long! lol!

When I realized that he would be away next week and would only come back after the 18 Oct. I feel sad. I am anxious that he will not be around. It's like my secret keeper will be away and will not be here to support me, that makes me anxious. I think this name suits him, someone who keeps my secret.

18 Oct seems so long. I question if I will even live through this weekend. Everything feels fine now. Nice music, nice work environment. comfortable. Yet. weekends are so tough to live through. I used to love weekends, but now, all the spare time makes me sink into the depths of my depression and that's always when I just feel like I really want to do it. I haven't mentioned it to anyone yet, but, that would really seems easier, isn't it. To jump off a building. Sometimes I just can't help staring at the high raise building.

Is it really okay to die, I asked this a millionth time. I constantly feel that yes it's okay, but so much other sources says otherwise. That I would only think that now, is only because of my depression. Maybe it's really not my depression, but just how I really view everything. Well okay maybe my mental state is not that great now, but I really, just really don't see the point. annnnd I guess that's what a typical depressed person would say. -roll eyes-

6.10 pm signing off because it's time to go home.

EM.

The Crazy Girl

Yesterday I tried to kill myself again. I finally tried to defy myself , and cut deeply, and then the blood spilled. I was honestly surprise when it happen, it was disturbing to see the deep red flow of blood across my wrist. It felt like a scene that you could only imagine in books or see in tv shows. Then I was disappointed in some ways, that I still couldn't cut deep enough to hit a vein or artery. I was sure that I wanted to die, and maybe I did, because I honestly could not find the reasons or worth, to go on. Yet, I still couldn't defy my self survival instinct. In some ways, I think I am angry at myself too, for harming myself in such a way. It was really sad to see myself bleeding, and knowing that I did it to myself. Is that what is going on when I still couldn't really kill myself?

It feels terrible that I am hurting myself like this, but yet it seems that I was only trying to help myself, to relive myself of this constant suffering emotions that I had to endure for such a long time already. Isn't it enough? Why do I still have to go on? Is it just a senseless survivor instinct that stopped me? or is it really because I still had hope? That seems pretty laughable, to still think of hope, but it seems that I still have to go through this senseless motions of seeking recovery and going on. Maybe in the end, I was just too much of a coward to do it, and the survivor mechanism is only just that, a senseless stupid mechanism that I need to defy and overwrite.

I remember clutching the penknife so tightly with the blade on my wrist, with the intense wish that I could kill myself. It's really unfathomable why I still couldn't do it. Damn this coping mechanism.

 I do feel myself getting better, moods, and energy levels. How do I go back to being happy? I feel like I have forgotten how to be happy. This option to die seems to have open up to me when I cut myself for the first time, and now it seems like it all I ever think about. I am really troubled and upset that this is all I could think of these days. Why did I forgot how to live and only think of dying now? I don't really understand this drastic change in me. Was the emotional pain that I had to endure for so many years just too much now? I have already tolerated for so many years, why couldn't I just continue doing it? Oh I get it, I could, I just don't want to anymore.

Yes,  I think I could try and recover, try to find joy in life again and enjoy the little moments that I used to find gratitude in. I just feel that I don't want to go through it again. We all had experiences in life and make the decisions in life that built some perspective of how we view life. I grew up with experiences that make me see life as hard and difficult, that even though I could, I had to use so much effort and energy to live a normal life, why can't I have the decision to just not want to do it anymore? Yes, actually, I could make that decision to just jump off a building and die, it's because I still couldn't do it.

I can't stand this, depressive and coward person that I have become. Everyday, I am still clutching onto life while wishing I'm dead, it's just laughable.

I should just die, or if I want to recover and be happy than just do it without all these sappy thoughts and emotions. My counselor told me to have more compassion for myself, and it really touched a nerved.

For so many years, I have endured so much emotional abuse, I think that is a main factor of why I want to die. I just really hate it, and feel like I have had enough of it. You know? No you don't. No one knows, and I am angry that my sister seems to have forgotten too, she used to know, but she left, and then, she forgot.

I really hate it that until now, I still have to endure it, and the worst part is I still continue to love her even after she constantly hurt me even now. I just can't stand it anymore, and I don't want to go on.

Suicidal.

I just want to shout out at the world. 

I am alone with no one to talk to. I don't know what to do anymore.

I feel like the world is eating me away, until I am nothing but a ghost.

I'm looking for a special place, for me to simply fade away.

I just want to close this door, and not go on anymore.

Finally I can lay down,  and let go of this world.

I teared for a little while, but soon everything will really be okay.

Depression

       My depression has finally gotten so bad that, I needed actual help. I even tried to end my life. I'm not sure if I actually really did wanted to kill myself, because obviously, I'm not dead. I did cut my wrist a couple of times, to see how it's done before cutting my veins and letting myself bleed out and die at a specific place. Twice I went there wanting to die, and help was there to stop me. Even at my most desperate moment, I was still struggling and crying out to people to help me. 

I had an interesting venture at the mental hospital due to my 2nd failed attempt of killing myself. I wasn't convinced that it was an attempt since I chicken out and didn't actually cut my veins. I was forced to go don to the mental health to be assess, and than forced to be admitted into their wards. 

I was so upset, so sad. The doctor convinced me that it was for my own good and to protect myself.  she said it was a little bit like "tough love". I felt sure that she was lying. The whole ordeal was so traumatizing and overwhelming. I felt like bursting into tears, but I held it all in as usual.

The whole experience was so surreal, it actually didn't turn out as bad as i thought, I met up with people who had the same experience. There was basically nothing to do there, like a prison with better treatments.

Until now, I still do not know if I really wanted to die, because if I did, I would be dead now and not writing this long post. I wished I was, but the act, scared me. The act of slashing my veins and watching myself bleed out. Maybe I did too much research, and read the part about the body kicking in its self def to survive. Body temperature would drop to extreme cold levels to try and save myself or some shit. It's just so hard to imagine myself bleeding out and freezing, waiting for myself to die. Someone wrote that to die in such a way, is so sad. I felt like it suited me, because I am sad.

To be honest, the stay in imh really did helped me. There was 0 stress level since basically you had nothing to do and you're cut off from the outside world since you have no access to your phone. We played games and chit chat, even make jokes about our suicide methods. I honestly thought that I felt better, even thought that I was better. 

After being discharged.. really don't feel like talking about her.

I guess after a few days, my stress, worries, all came back. That constant thought to die is back.

It feels to me that, I've struggled for a long time, and I'm so tired that I wish i could stop living. It feels like my life really doesn't matter that much. I have someone who constantly says that to me for so many years, it's hard not to start believing every toxic thing that she says.

Lucky Seven

How is this possible? It's actually been seven years since I last updated this blog. So freaking unblieveable. I am absoultely shocked. What else can I say, It has been so many years and what have I become, really? I have always wondered why life is so much harder for me. why do I constantly feel that everything requires too much effort。 

It's like I have constantly been disappointed so many times that I have grown cynical and doesnt trust in relationship. I know the saying goes like, we need to have courage and to love and believe again. Honestly, it's not the childish fear, it's really just not worth the effort sometimes. I've realised that I am kinda moody and I get depressed on many occasion. It's so much easier to be by myself. I am happy being with myself even if somewhat lonely sometimes. 

To be honest, the occasion thought of suicide has gone through my head more times than I liked. I have wondered and thought of the methods of dying painlessly, and I have never ever told any of this to anyone (not that there is anyone to tell anyway)

I just have never share this part of myself to anyone before. everything is so overwhelming, I just cant help thinking that, wouldn't it feel like a relief to be finally be free of everything? of course, all these thoughts, i realized seems to proof that i have some level of depression, and i simply keep this part to myself. no one listens or would believe me anyway.

I have grown up wishing that my parents would divorce, I really dislike my mother. I finally begin to understand why my relationship couldn't work out. How can it work when I never really believed in it in the first place? Even if i did really love someone to the core, isnt it just setting ourselves up for disappointment anyway? that's what been proven to me so many times. 

This poor girl, really has family and mental health issue. This thought has cross me so many times: Imagine being abuse since you were a child, but yet everyone always says, love your parents, be filial to them! Parents always care for you and everything they do is because they love you. I always feel like laughing when i hear these statements. For a child who had to face constant emotional abuse every other day in the house, watching their parents hate each other, what is the extend of forgiveness that should be extended to the abuser?

what if the abuser did not even feel any remorse? The truth is, at this point I have actually forgiven my mother (I think). What's the point in living in misery hating her when we are still living together, right. I really did understand that, in her own twisted, screaming and shouting way, that IS acutally her way of showing that she care. 

She just doesn't see how her words and emotions and basically her overall toxicity affects us all. She simply doesn't know, and in some crazy way, she is also living in her own hell. I seem to have started feeling sorry for her at some point, but still wishing that I can just get OUT. BUT yet, i still cant abandon my parents. 

So these situation has always kept me wondering, how much should i tolerate and how much abuse should I accept and forgive? If one says that we shouldn't accept any form of abuse, its still hard to think we can simply abandon them and live our own life. That just doesnt seem right too.