Someone, another and me

Someone told me I was sad

Another told me I had the blues

Someone told me to get it over with

Another told me I was just being lazy

Someone doesn’t speak to me anymore

And another told me I was a shut in

Someone told me I was just a hypocrite

Another told me to get over myself

That person doesn’t speak to me anymore

Someone told me I had been cared for too much

Another told me I was the embodiment of my generation

Someone told me I was just being irresponsible

Another added unreliable

Both don’t speak to me anymore

Someone told me I do it all for the attention

Another told me they were evil thoughts

Someone told me I was being ungrateful

Another told me it was because I was privileged

Yet another one doesn’t speak with me anymore

I tell myself all of those. I brew it in my head as soon as something goes wrong. I think of all the people I’ve lost. I conclude that I’m undeserving and worthless. I can’t think of a reason why things are this way, I figure out it’s because of me. It’s because I’m me. I’m thinking how unlucky my parents were to end up with me. I’m thinking how many lives and people I have changed, touched in a negative way because, it’s obvious, I’m me. I think God is the only one who loves me unconditionally, He has to but when the times come, will He choose me? Then my head empties and I can’t think, I don’t feel.. Life continues on.. I still can’t feel..

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Can’t have a puppeteer 

As low as I can get, I still think I should be treated as a human being. 

I always think that I’m undeserving, sometimes of any basic needs but I do still have an inch of respect for myself. 

Unless I’m being threatened or blackmailed, it’s out of the question to let people treat me like gum under their shoes. 

Being bullied to the point where I’d even try to jump under a bus or to attack an officer just to get killed and so be free of my misery is a burden I could never lift.

Yes, it happens of me to think low of myself but it’s a luxury I couldn’t possibly let others enjoy. If I did, I’d probably be already dead by now. 

A common fact about depression 

People think that if you aren’t faking it, you should never laugh, smile or even normally live. You should be lifeless, staring at a wall, trying everyday to find a way to kill yourself or fighting dark thoughts every minute. 
I don’t know if it’s a real thing and if it’s actually happening to people out there but it ain’t my case. When I’m depressed, I can still have a genuine smile or laugh, I can still have an interest in something but it’s really unlikely for them to happen often. Even in my darkest hours, I can still accomplish my daily tasks. It’s no big deal really. Interacting with people sure is a pain, having to actually do everything properly as required might get difficult and just going to places when you don’t even feel like getting out of bed might be unbearable but it’s still doable and worst is that I can even do it all with a big smile on my face. 

Some people like to cry out for help, others don’t and I’m most likely in the second category. Whenever I talk about it, I’m whether recovering from one crisis or just about to hit another. I read that somewhere people actually got cured or maybe did it mean that they found a way to greatly increase the period between two crisis. I don’t really know where I’m going with this, it’s just something I noticed. 

Everything normal 

I feel like people don’t understand me

They talk to me, they see me, they read me but they don’t feel me. 

I feel like, in my head, I’m always complaining. 

I feel like nothing is how is supposed to be 

Like everything is rightly wrong

Too much perfection, too much ordinary, too much normal and too much stability. 

I’m the only weird one in the picture but it’s unnoticeable. 

I’m the only thing shadowy, I’m the only dark thing, I’m the only problem, I’m the only one unsatisfied. 

I look at my surroundings and life is perfect. I have a family, I have friends, I have a love interest, the weather is superb, I’m working, I’m getting a good education, people are nice to me, I’m not being bullied, I’m not being blackmailed, I’m not being followed, I’m not being raped, I’m healthy, I don’t have scars, I’m not crazy, my family loves me, my friends like me, college is going smoothly, I’m not rejected, I’m not pointed at, I’m not someone’s punching bag, I’m not locked up somewhere, I’m not forced to do dangerous things, I’m not captive, I’m not addicted to anything, I am normal. 

Except that every morning, when I wake up, I feel less and less enthusiastic, less and less grateful. And every night, before I go to sleep, I’m looking less and less forward to the following morning. 

Separated from me

My mind is racing and my head is hurting 

My heart is aching and soul is tearing. 

Somewhere, along the way, 

I’ve hidden myself from me 

Is it normal to always have something on your back 

That, day by day, only wants to bring you down? 

I don’t want to search for me anymore 

Because, I like the empathy and anesthesia that I left behind. 

I don’t feel, I don’t care, I don’t judge, I move on, I walk forward, I live. 

And this invisible black ball of energy behind my back doesn’t seem so heavy anymore. 

It whimpers things and I listen but it doesn’t affect me the same way. 

And it noticed it, it’s searching for me so it can hurt me again, so it can see me cry, so it can see me wounding myself. 

But I’ve hidden me so far away, so deep. Hours and hours of demagnetising our connection so I can’t feel where my being is anymore. 

And I know, I’m just an automated body, carrying on tasks everyday. I know my smile is fake, my gaze is empty and my warmth is cold. 

But I also that none of you see past this trick so I can live on like that eternally. 

The right to be called ill

I probably have some of the worst sicknesses of all, the invisible, most stigmatized, most misunderstood illnesses and the most easy to brush off. I’m not saying they’re all at the top of the list, they sure are somewhere in it. 

I suffer from :

  1. Depression 
  2. Migraine 
  3. Minor Acrophobia  
  4. Serious Claustrophobia 
  5. Anxiety 
  6. Panic Attacks
  7. Constipation 


  • I wrote so much about my depression here. And since I started, it still doesn’t feel like people around me have started to understand the true meaning behind my isolation. Labeled as capricious, needy, spoiled, attention seeker, gloomy, boring, mute, cold, empathetic, indifferent, a drama and crisis lover, I just stopped explaining what I suffer from and how it affects me. This way, I don’t get disappointed and hurt, in the end, when I realize that the same people who where nodding to my explanation were the first ones to throw me under the bus when things got intense. 
  • I think I used up all my energy trying to convince my parents and friends that migraines are an actual illness. They all blame it on anemia, fatigue, lack of /too much exercise and else. Even my doctor, once told me they were just bad headaches. And until 6 years ago,  I couldn’t understand why I had to take a specific pill, why I had auras (I didn’t even know they were auras), how a simple headache could make me so hypersensitive to sound, light, touch.. So many unanswered questions until a doctor told me about it when I was discussing of it with my mom at the hospital. She still doesn’t believe it’s an illness though and the number of times she hid my pills from me because she said it was irrational to take one every single time my head hurt, “you’ll get accustomed to it and it won’t work on you anymore, just get used to the pain once in a while”, she’d say. 
  • Acrophobia is the phobia of heights. I say minor because it doesn’t get as alarming as people afraid of getting on chairs or up the stairs. But it is a problem for me since I can’t look down from a certain height without the feeling of jumping. Even if there’s a crossbar, I  have to stay at a certain distance or the desire to jump will increase. I remember hiking with friends and we got at the top of this small mountain (less than 2000m high) and they were all taking pictures at the edge of it with the view of the foggy scenery below. It only took me one look and I couldn’t even stand anymore, I had to crawl away from it which got me a few mockeries and sarcastic comments. Even if I’m not the one at the edge, if my friends are too close, it gets to me too. It’s a freaky feeling and I’ve been called suicidal because of it sometimes, which it’s understandable when people had to stop you once or twice from walking to your death from a cliff and still have to keep an eye on you every time you get too close to one. 
  • Claustrophobia is a real problem in my daily life. Cars, elevators, closed rooms, anything that doesn’t have an immediate access to the outside scares the hell out of me. Once I was staying a weekend at a building apartment in NY with some friends, I almost got a heart attack from climbing 19 flats of stairs every single time I wanted to get in or out of there. It’s not easy for me specially in spring (sinusitis) and winter (cold) when I can’t keep the car windows down. I fainted once in a closed room with no windows, even my own room doesn’t stay closed for too long, I fainted twice in a elevator and I couldn’t even get into a store once because I didn’t see any other apertures than the front door which was locked after every customer got in. It’s a real struggle.
  • My anxiety has many triggers like the storms (since the time I’ve been almost hit by a tree struck by lightning), too longs distances (that’s due to another trauma I’m not ready to share), claustrophobia, etc. and it gives birth to the panic attacks.
  • Panic attacks are almost common with me and it seems like the older I get, the more often they are to happen. If I don’t take the time to control my breathing and cast away the trigger, I hyperventilate then pass out.. My father used to say that I was being pampered too much and this was the result of my resolve being too weak. Maybe he’s right, I don’t know. Any type of storm particularly the rainy ones are an enough reason to get me shivering to the point of me rarely consulting the weather report. What I don’t know can’t hurt me, right? 
  • Well that one is a bit of an embarrassing. I’ve been constipated since I was a baby, my mother never had problems with my diapers or potty training. The most time I held it in, until now, have been two and half months. Two awful months to be frank, I had multiple colics, bloatings, I felt uncomfortable, and it even reflected on my skin. But I can’t possibly do it once a day or even a week. It’s impossible for me. I tried many fiber diets or supplements. I used to love prune juice. But now, it doesn’t help me at all. It all just works temporarily. I actually have a support group for that because my doctor is worried every time he touches my belly. At most, I’d go to the bathroom every week or twice every 3 weeks. It’s something apparently concerning but I must say that I’m used to it by now. It doesn’t really worry me. Even the images of sick ugly black colons didn’t get to me so I guess it says a lot about me and my peristalsis intestinal. I do resort to laxatives once in a while. 

The reason why I’m being partially naked for you to see, it’s because of the stigma and misunderstanding attached to these illnesses. Beside my constipation and panic attacks, I’ve never received proper treatment for any of those; now that I think of it, I don’t know if breathing exercises count as treatment unless it is the actual treatment for panic attacks. Nobody thought it was necessary, just man up and cope with them or just snap out of it. 

I’m shamelessly showing to all of you some of my weaknesses, not to brag or to attract pity and sympathy. It’s awful that you can’t be accepted for who you are just because your surroundings fail to understand what you’re going through. It’s the way we are, whether we were born like this or have been affected by it through our life journey. It would be nice once a while to be truly supported by people that aren’t the same as you. 

Bad combo

Worse than my depression is my migraine.

I’ve never been suicidal, I always thought how life, how the world would be better without me. How my death wouldn’t have any meaning, how my disappearance might relieve those around me. How people have been impatiently waiting for me to kick the bucket and mostly how my mind is dragging me in a whirlpool of darkness, trying to make me get rid of myself. 

But I’ve always hung on because of my faith. I know that I’m troubled and I know that God won’t judge me for that. But I’ll still be accountable for my actions and killing is a big sin, whether it’s me or anyone else. That’s where I draw my limits. That’s why I’ve never sunk deeper before. 

But being depressed and having a migraine, that’s a bad combo. It’s as dangerous as mixing pills and alcohol, it’s not going to end well. I’ve been suffering from migraines since childhood, the same goes for depression; who was there before the other, I can’t tell. 

Migraines are horrible head pains that affect all my body. It hurts so badly that sometimes I just can’t take it anymore. If I let the migraine kicks in before taking the pills, it’s hard to stop it since I’ll be vomiting like crazy. Between the symptoms and the aura, every time my head throbs, which is like every micro second, I just want to end it all. 

Recently, I had one of the rare moments when I thought that I was “used” to the drug. A few hours before, the aura manifest itself : I was dizzy, confused, my vision was blurry, my head was a bit heavy, I was getting weak and my body was becoming a bit numb. I didn’t pay much attention to it, whatever it is, I’ll deal with it when it greets me directly. 

When it did, I felt so much pain, I thought all the veins in my head would blow. I could feel every heart pulse. I even thought of stopping my heart and I stopped breathing numerous times just to slow my heartbeat. I couldn’t hold my head, I couldn’t lay down because I always ended up vomiting, I couldn’t possibly see because opening my eyes was too much of a burden, it felt like they were about to pop out of their socket. I couldn’t speak, it only hurt me more. 

At some point, I wasn’t even praying God for relief anymore, I was praying for Him to take me. I took the Advil Migraine as always and it didn’t work, I took a second one and it ended up on the floor with my puke. So I took a 1000mg powerful analgesic and, surprise, didn’t work either. At this point, I had already taken 5 different drugs and finally felt a bit sleepy. I could feel myself relaxing enough to be able to sleep when suddenly someone made a loud noise and my slight relief flew away. 

I fell on the ground, through the pain, I could hear what my mind was telling me. “You’re paying for everything you’ve done. You should embrace it, it’s your punishment and if you really feel that bad, just take the other 1000mg pill, it will end it all.”

I cried and my mom was worried. She thought it was about the pain but more than that, it was about the struggle. The struggle to not listen to what seems like the voice of reason at the time. And sometimes, I regret it. It would have looked like an accidental overdose. But I didn’t have the courage to do it

And I’m not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse.