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opened heart



it dawned upon me that my memory has been deteriorating further, because my word-finding difficulty is now at its peak, and my memory recall is terrible despite having some time pass from my last currents. and then… i am reminded that everything that transpires in this long journey from nothingness to recovery has a lasting impact on this temporary body which i abuse pretty much. this was something that i might already have known, but was too defiant to recognise and acknowledge. and alas, this leaves me with some regret.


it’s been 7 years at the brink of hell, i’ve always said i’m on the threshold of giving up, and it never seems to be getting better. what gives? i don’t know. the people around me don’t know what to do. they either stay silent, or comment nonchalantly. why are you still like this?; it’s been so long!; you are like that because your faith is not strong enough (i lost a friend for that because it was totally inappropriate);  huh!!! you cut again ah!!!; what did you do this time??? (must i have done something to be not feeling well or admitted???); aiyah i think you really need a boyfriend (overwhelmingly popular comment); etc.

but at the sidelines have been my family and close friends (NO boyfriend), cheering me on in the ways they know. this however, was hard for me. most of those who loved me didn’t know how to support me, and all i could perceive was silence and isolation. the loneliness i felt all these years, imposed by myself and wrongfully felt was crushing. it took years of therapy and retrospection to realise that my family all had their different ways of expressing their love for me.

i isolated myself nevertheless, and took down the facade i worked hard to maintain once i’m alone. i could trust myself most times, but i can say right up till today, i cannot trust a single person. not even my parents. and it actually aches right in the heart to know that. it is hard to put it in words, but the psyche of a chronically depressed, a bulimic, and a chronically suicidal borderline who severely self-harms, is hard to understand (and that is already discounting the fact that i also cope with RA and fibro at the same time, complicating everything!). and even that is a terribly sore understatement. i spent the last few weeks in much agony (although i had all these 7 years to explore this) trying to accept that maybe, just maybe, i am just one who cannot be grasped with the mind and the heart. or maybe i could tell you everything, but would you be able to take it? *hmm* it was difficult to accept this as i repeatedly spoke to my psychotherapist about this. i’m a borderline. i am needy. i thrive on being understood (or seemingly being understood). even as we tried to rebuild relationships, my parents and i, as we continued family therapy, i had my separate life from them when i’m alone. i couldn’t find the courage to integrate the self which i’ve relied on for 7 years and carried the painful pasts, weaknesses and unforgivable failures, together with the fake and detestable self that is fronted by a facade which was built upon lies and lies and lies, but also successes that felt unmerited (and layers and layers of defense mechanisms). how could i ever tell you, or anyone for that matter, that when i’m with you i am not entirely genuine? how could i ever tell you that my lack of authenticity with you at times might be because say, you were talking and i was listening and nodding my head, but ‘because i felt so dysphoric all i was thinking of was cutting’.  (i’m a terrible person. i know that, and i believe that most times. and perhaps i really do deserve all of these.)

anyhow, at the end, i think the goal is that i’m alive. i don’t necessarily agree with it. but no one can say that i’m not trying. dysphoria, anxiety, triggers and chronic suicidality are a lot of factors to deal with when it come to the causes of my self-harm. and more so when my self-harm has escalated in the last 2-3 years. i’m not proud of it. no no no. but i’m here. i’m still here. although i’m merely existing, until i figure things out and recovery becomes a real possibility. i recognise that life still goes on, so in doing so i’ll make sure i’ll finish my honours degree by December. it is one of those times in these 7 years where i have to tell myself “Steph, you can’t afford to fall during this period. You just can’t.” and there were no buts. because i knew the consequences of falling during crucial periods. you fall, you end up in hospital much to the dismay of your teachers, you end up deferring your module/course/graduation (yes graduation, fuck it), you repeat the module with strangers while you see your friends on social media graduating or progressing on ie. you got left behind, and teachers all start asking what happened to you, or what happened to you, or heaven forbid, things like why are you so fat, why are you so weak etc. and the thing is, i already fell so many times during this school year, and only got out of the hospital a few weeks ago. many rules and sanctions have been placed on me to make sure i’m safe. everything was fixated on my crazies. but i think no one thought to make sure i was a tiny bit happier or pain-free?

i’ve tried. i really have. doctors in the e-rooms always ask me if i’ve gone off my meds, and i wish i have, but i have never gone off my psychiatric meds (so why the crises???). i’ve always found it an insurmountable task processing the sinking sadness of depression, BPD’s ricocheting, instability in affect and interpersonal relationships, neediness, self-mutilation and suicidality, emptiness that can never be filled, the deep ache that is so visceral, the rage, all of it even until today. yet somehow i’ve allowed some of it to take over. may there be a day, like the psychiatrists say, that my symptoms (or BPD) may be ameliorated. Dr G (not my psychotherapist) once told me that borderlines usually take 5-10 years with psychodynamic psychotherapy. i’ve hit 7. i guess 3 more years to truly see if things really get better? (then again, psychiatrists have told me i’m the worst case they’ve ever seen.)

at this point where i am ending this post, i am feeling quite sad and it feels quite visceral. but well, i’m just gonna try to smoke it off.

 

 

 

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yet another year has passed. and looking back, i don’t know where those days have gone. every birthday is a heartache, if i am to be truly honest. looking back, dwelling in the present, looking to the future, it pains me greatly that my existence has been maintained till today. i know that that is the depression talking. that a life in Christ is so much more. that a life in Christ is filled with love. the past year was spent with at least 14 crises. there never was any semblance of stability, and the struggle was painfully constant.

in the here and now, i dare not hope. what is the state of my life now that will change anything? absolutely nothing. so why set myself up for disappointment and heartache?

happy birthday steph.
may you find the courage to do what you need to do to go on.

dei gratia


by the grace of God (latin)

God doesn’t necessarily gives us what we want. He gives us what we need.

in the same vein, thinking for years that i needed answers to heal? i couldn’t be more wrong. i always wondered why i couldn’t find the healing that eluded me. i believed that if i had answers, i could heal. but to be completely honest, i already have the answers. but answers don’t magically make everything go away.

going to the retreat in early January, not knowing much of what i wanted out of the retreat except that i wanted healing (by default that is always what i want out of a retreat), i left feeling rather unchanged. i didn’t “feel” like i was healed. but then again, what does it feel like to be healed? i felt underwhelmed. but as days go by, it became more evident that God’s grace was working in me. i was more joyful, less melancholic. i was able to cooperate with His grace. i am even more than 2 months cut-free! ah, such grace! also, God’s grace working inside of me though intangible, was even witnessed by my community!

this grace He gives was what i needed. it was a long time coming, but we live in God’s time!

going into the New Year…

i apologise for the lack of updates. it’s been rather mad since the last time i posted.

i’ve fought continuously against the deep anguish and pain within me since Christmas, making a decision to repair my arm which i’ve cut up, then keeping myself safe for awhile. i managed to leave the hospital to spend New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day with my family and friends. but till today i still wonder if i should have left the hospital. i was still drowning, and nothing was making it go away.

i attended a 5-day retreat in the first week of January. this retreat has been purported by most to be extremely life-changing. and although i went into it rather apathetically, i held high expectations. instead the first 3 days were a complete nightmare. i had strong urges to hurt myself. i had strong urges to fly. i was most atrociously physically violated (sexually too if you asked me) during praise and worship. of all 15 confessors, i was assigned to the priest who hurt me deeply (which led to a 3rd degree burn that had to be grafted; but i’ve forgiven him already) 1.5 years ago. i wanted to pack my bags and walk out of the retreat every single moment of the first 3 days. but i thank God for His love and grace, for sustaining me through each and every moment. i was also blessed that a brother from my community journeyed with me. the next 2 days were better, although i remained in the shadows of the “trauma” from the first 3 days. i encountered God and the Holy Spirit during the praying over and outpouring.

to be honest, i felt like God has washed me clean of my sins. it felt like He reached for my hardened heart, softened it, and emptied out my heart of all the pain it carried. it felt like i was going to be starting on a clean slate. tabula rasa. Mother Mary also appeared to me (incidentally i was standing in front of the Mother’s statue during the praying over) after i had fallen. She had reminded me of her fiat– the fiat that kept appearing to me since last year. her Magnificat also resounded in my head. to me, there was no doubt that all these experiences lead me to the very heart of Jesus and Mary. ending the retreat, i came out of it more confident in God’s mercy, and more convicted to the obedience that Mother Mary displayed. it was not a surprised that during the last talk by our Archbishop led me to this bible verse:

I will not leave you desolate; I will come to you. -John 14:18

coming across this verse, i was even more assured that i could trust in God in my worst times- times which would have me extremely despaired and anguished. this, together with my encounter, would become my anchor for which i would hold on to. going back to the real world would mean that i would be continuously challenged and tested. and i felt extremely blessed that even though the retreat wasn’t as life-changing as it was purported to be, i came out of it with this anchor. this knowledge and this trust that i have in God.


so for the past 1.5 weeks (post-retreat till today), i struggled very much physically. i’ve been extremely fatigue, and despite so, insomniac. out of the 11 days, i’ve left the house only about 4 times? my head constantly hurts. my entire back hurts. i’ve had repeated bouts of nausea and/or vomiting. i’ve spent hours and hours horizontal on my sofa. i’ve indulged in so much caffeine but it doesn’t work. it frustrates me because i don’t know where this fatigue is coming from. RA, fibromyalgia, and depression all cause fatigue/lethargy. i feel like if i knew which was the source, i could better manage it. but who am i kidding?

and so i will continue and take each day as it comes. i’m not in the best of moods, i’ve been rather cranky, i’m perpetually tired, but eventually one of these will give. i will leave you with a part of a prayer a community friend said for me on the 3rd night of the retreat (it’s slightly reworded because my failing memory can’t remember the exact words):

“every moment is a new creation in Your hands…”

it’s short, yet it holds an extremely beautiful meaning, and encompasses so much hope!

with every breath

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it has been a tough many weeks for me.

i spent the entire time holding on to my faith for my dear life.i feared that had i let go even a little, i’d completely lose myself or my life. it was not a time to compromise.

i had gone for a surgery, and then transferred to a psychiatric hospital/ward. i was quite sick i suppose. because even 8 electroconvulsive therapy(ECT) sessions didn’t make me better. i was discharged by a doctor whose clinical judgement is extremely lacking.

what happened next was a disaster. i ended up in the hospital’s high-dependency ward, clinging onto my life. at my worst i was only breathing a mere 4 breaths a minute. when i was better, i was yet again transferred to the psychiatric hospital/ward. i tried to make it all go away again with ECTs to no avail.

till date, i’ve done 56 ECTs in my life, and my memory is failing fast and furious.

meltdowns i had plenty during my admissions. be it tears or blood, i could never really hold myself together. and when they asked me what i’d live for, i could not answer them. i’d also a fiery temper, and got into trouble a few times. twice, i fell from a certain height while in the ward. i ended up with a really badly sprained ankle, and many bruises. in these admissions, for the first time, i had to be sedated several times with IM Haloperidol, IM Promethazine or IM Lorazepam.

here i am, discharged once more. i don’t want to go back in there. i don’t belong there. whatever personal crises i’ve had, they are over now.  and because of all of these, i’ve resigned from my job and i’ve deferred my studies. my parents have been telling me that i’ve been too hard on myself.

really? i don’t know. i am only trying my best to exist. every breath i take is every breath loved by my Lord.

 

 

 

 

i wrote this as a stark reminder to myself, that the act of being alive is in and by itself, enough. that in a world that asks of you anything and everything, without pretty much a care, it’s okay to simply breathe.

but i go on to ruminate, ever so often. then everything is for naught.

in Him i seek refuge

sometimes, darkness blankets me, and i stay in it. i know, after 5 years, that depression deems this darkness a good place to dwell in. my faith journey through these all sees me letting in the light- the light of Christ- in the times when hope glimmers. regrettably, darkness triumphs over the light, because i am yet to be in a place where i am more recovered.

since i last wrote, plenty has happened. school being on a break, i’ve been busy with work and serving in a retreat.

i have been blessed to have a change in my job description, where i am no longer a nurse. it was a decision to place my focus on social service, rather than on nursing. my workplace is truly a blessing to be in- all of my colleagues so God-loving, and passionate for our cause. my manager takes it further by being extremely considerate to my wellbeing. for all of these i praise God for His providence!

i was on the intercessory team in the retreat. my prayer life has never been good, nor was it good during intercessions (in my opinion that is). but we experienced for ourselves God working through everyone in the retreat. again, tasting the grace of the Lord has me on my knees.

groping my way around in the dark, i fell and hurt myself badly again. i am ashamed of it, simply because God’s light is there, but in my sadness i refused to let it in. in the end i became the perpetrator and also the victim. i don’t know why i let people’s words get to me, nor do i know why i seek so much healing from physical pain.

reluctantly, at the nagging of my friends, i sought medical attention, and was placed in the hands of trauma surgeons. but i’m fine. i really am. everyone has been overreacting.

i want to let the light in- His light and His glory. light chases out darkness, and in doing so, faith, hope and love comes through easier. everyday is a challenge to choose God, even if it’s not in the ways of the faith. when i choose to be kind to myself, to not hurt myself, to smile, to laugh, to love myself, i am choosing God.

in Him there is no darkness, and in Him i seek refuge.


after edit:

i forgot to mention. remember the last term of school in which i missed 3 weeks out of 5 weeks of lesson due to my hospitalisation? the one in which i spent 1 week writing 2 papers whole juggling school and work? the one which i only took less than a weekend to study for 2 exams?

i checked my results, after almost forgetting that they had been released, and… i scored distinctions for both!!! *phew* this i tell you, is entirely God-given. aside from the extremely tight time frame that i had, i was fighting a terrible war on the depression front at that point of time, and was amnesiac when the exams came. that i could survive, much less work through what little was left of the school term, could never have happened without God’s grace.