3 — Self-Love, It’s Not Easy
“It’s so difficult to describe depression to someone who’s never been there, because it’s not sadness. I know sadness. Sadness is to cry and to feel. But it’s that cold absence of feeling — that really hollowed-out feeling.” — J.K. Rowling
For a very long time, I suffered from severe depression and anxiety, and sometimes, I have my off days. Sometimes, I feel the demons awaken inside of me. But what’s different is that now, I recognize and am aware of my triggers, I know when the demons are awake and I have the coping mechanisms to control my mind. What’s different is that now, I am confident in my own skin and I love me, and nothing is more powerful than knowing your self-worth and having self-love.
Every year around my birthday, I read old journal entries and suicide notes that I wrote to myself during my darkest days. I read these letters to remind myself of who I was, the journey I’ve been on, and who I’ve become. I read these journal entries and feel grateful and blessed to still be alive, celebrating another year of my life.
I want to share a couple letters and journal entries that I wrote to myself between 2012 and 2013, the peak of my depression years. These episodes were continuous and increased with pain and hopelessness for many months to come. I was lost, spiraling out of control, and I didn’t know how to stop feeling the pain; pain from my childhood, pain from witnessing my own mother’s depression, pain from watching my family fall apart, pain from abusive relationships, pain from the guilt, pressure and shame, and most importantly, pain from feeling inadequate, feeling like I didn’t deserve to be loved.
Depression is insidious. It consumes everything you have, and it’s impossible to ever see the end. At the time, I was in college — typical college student trying to balance school, family pressures and expectations, work, friendships, relationships, social life, you name it. But these things weren’t the issues, they were my excuses for avoiding the real problem, me. I buried myself in volunteer work with student orgs, in my relationships with others, and maintaining an exciting social life. I partied a lot. I had fun, but fun was a drug that helped me to forget my pain, which resurfaced every time the fun stopped. So, the fun never stopped. I was always surrounded by friends, going to events, organizing events, staying in relationships that were unhealthy, simply because I couldn’t be alone with myself and my thoughts.
Here is a snippet of a journal entry, recapping my second suicide attempt:
July 9, 2013 (raw entry)
When I got back, I sat on the floor in the dark of my bedroom staring at the bottles I’ve laid out and a glass of water. Tears streaming down my face, I thought about all the misery and the sadness I’ve felt and I just wanted to end it all. This was my bottom. Alone, staring at bottles of pills in an empty apartment. Then within seconds, still crying and struggling to swallow all those pills, I did it. I downed two bottles of pills. I sat there, now staring at empty bottles figuring out what had actually happened within the past few minutes. I laid down, told myself I’m going to rest now and just let myself slip away. I started to feel sleepy (from the night time motrin) and closed my eyes. I fell asleep for maybe 15–20 minutes. When I woke, I felt numb, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t even get up or change my pants. That’s when I realized, shit, this is really it. I thought to myself, this is what the end of life feels like, and to be honest, I almost felt regret. I thought, maybe this isn’t what I wanted. I didn’t exactly see my life “flash before my eyes” but it was pretty damn close. I got scared. I never admitted this truth to myself, but I got scared and was afraid of dying. I think that’s what motivated me to get help at that point. I pulled all the energy I had left and struggled to open the door, and there he was, sitting there. He came in and swooped me up before I fell over, called the police, and put me over the toilet. He stuck his finger down my throat, and before I knew it, shit started coming out of my mouth. My roommate finally came home and assisted him in trying to save me. I remember feeling really tired and just wanted to lay down — so I went to the couch and knocked out. Then I heard policemen come into the apartment. They were trying to wake me up, calling my name and telling me to stay awake. They then carried me downstairs to the ambulance where I officially became incoherent. I remember trying to tell them something but the words wouldn’t come out right. And that was the end of that.
Depression and anxiety never truly disappear. It becomes a subtle, quiet nerve in your body that awaits the trigger. The best we can do is learn to manage and control it, and we do that by loving ourselves. It has been far from easy, but I’ve finally learned to love myself by committing to the practice of self-care and putting me first. In the past few years, I’ve made a conscious effort to write more. Writing has really helped me to cope with my depression and anxiety. I would force myself to write out my emotions as I reflect on why I was feeling that way and certain triggers I could recognize. I also made an effort to be more grateful for the things I had rather than the things I didn’t have or wanted to have. I used to have an “I am Thankful” wall in my old apartment where everyday, I would write down one thing that I was grateful for. The game changer for me, the catalyst to this positive mindset that I have now, was understanding the law of attraction and conscious manifestation. It was just last year that my good friend presented these concepts to me during a reading. I was going through some hardships and had difficulty with managing it, so I sought help from my friend who is an astrologist. I know it sounds crazy, but it was life-changing. I remember telling her at the time, “it’s like you have this cheat sheet to life.” And as with anyone else, she had her own struggles and journey in getting there. After this, it was like I had a mental switch. I listened to podcasts, I started meditating, I started practicing conscious manifestation because I wanted so desperately to be happier. Fast forward, many months later, I decided to move halfway across the world. And here, I found happiness within myself because doing something bold and outside of my comfort zone contributes to my journey of self-discovery and self-empowerment. I don’t know what’s next, but I do know that this journey will never end. It will only get better from here.
