My mind is quite jumbled up right now. I am on Epilim (stupid name man) and Fluoxetine right now. I stopped the Olanzapine. Sometimes, I think I have cognitive decline, as I can barely string together a coherent sentence, yet sometimes, I am functioning well cognitively, and I can be eloquent too. I am trying to collect my thoughts, and maybe the Olanzapine helped me organise my thoughts better? There are so many events I want to attend, yet, they might not be that interesting after all, so I am hesitant. Also, school is starting so I need to learn […]
Everything in life, to me, is a gamble. Taking exams is a gamble, you might do well or you might fail. Making friends is a gamble, you might get ignored or ostracised, or you might develop a blossoming friendship with someone. Anxiety has stopped me from doing so many things. After the passing of the late Chester Bennington, his ardent fans hashtagged: #fuckdepression. That is not to say that depression does not exist or dismiss the plight of those who suffer from depression. It is facing the monster in its face and saying fuck you. It is so badass and […]
The road to recovery is not easily traversed alone. But it is too often that those with mental illnesses end up in a state of loneliness, only to find themselves looking for a way to get better, for everyone around them cannot fathom a way to help them. Maybe they cannot even fathom mental illnesses as a whole. Many times a positive and supportive environment can do more than medicine can ever do. I’ve mentioned how stigma affects recovery but I am often torn by the selfishness behind recovering for someone else.
Your stomach drops. You feel the blood rush to your neck, forehead and limbs. They start to warm up. You feel light headed and it is as if you are falling towards the floor you will never hit. Your hands start to tremble. Your ears start to ring and your vision becomes blurry. The energy in your body leaves as if it is a spirit that was banished. Your breathing quickens and your breath becomes shallower. The world is ending and you are about to die.
This post was written by Caiti Ward on October 12, 2017. She is a writer and a live-action performer in film, television and commercials, as well as a voice performer in animation and narration. You can read more of her posts at her blog: https://www.caitiscorner.com/
I don’t want a mental health diagnosis because there is a lot of stigma and ramifications involved. Not being able to apply for insurance. Job discrimination. Taking you very seriously. Taking you so seriously that you are too serious that you have to be in an ambulance, that sort of thing.
I do not identify as a depressive anymore. If someone asked me how I would describe myself, I would tell them that I am a depressive. But now, I think I identify as a clubber or an LGBT member. I thought I had kicked my depressive tantrums to the curb already. My father threatened to send me to IMH forever because I kept throwing tantrums and I really couldn’t help it.
If you know me, you would know that I am quite skeptical about alternative healing methods for mental health. Sign me up for an ice-skating session, sure. Skiing, never tried before, sure. Anything that is interesting, like art therapy or a type of sport which I have never tried before. Chakras, singing bowls, natural healing methods, not my cup of tea.
I am so sick and tired of having crying and anger outbursts. I had a threw a tantrum at my father due to a family dispute with him. I self-harmed and then I was being uncooperative a few days later when he wanted to have dinner as a family. After that, I had a meltdown and I actually ran away from home and I drank a lot of alcohol. Every time I get little bursts of happiness, I will start to feel it crashing down again, and somehow something happens which triggers me into a downward spiral.
The first time my boyfriend hid my nearly empty packet of Alprazolam (an anti-anxiety drug that is commonly known as Xanax, and acts as a minor tranquilizer) and my brand new packet of Sertraline (an SSRI-type anti-depressant that is commonly known as Zoloft), I wanted to kill him. And, if I’m being honest, also myself.
I have been quite busy recently. I think I am venturing out of my comfort zone again because this time I went to a haunted house at Bukit Gombak CC.
Recovery might mean the person with mental health issues becoming a brand new person. His or her interests may have changed. But I haven’t changed. I am still sensation-seeking, adventurous, spunky and weird. However, I notice that I used to like concrete and tangible items, such as bags, and clothing. However, nowadays, I go for experiences and knowledge, things which are less tangible in nature.
Maybe I should be more random and blog about weird dreams and anything that comes to mind, like Xia Xue. So here it goes. I also have some depression poems and new stuff, but it’s quite dark and all, so I shall leave it aside for now.
I recently realised something. They looked at my resume, decided I was a suitable candidate and called me down. They liked my experience and education. However, the moment they realised I had a mental illness, my qualifications meant nothing. I became a walking mental illness.
Social insufficiencies can cause serious mental health issues. We, as humans, are social creatures and need to interact with others. We yearn to have relationships with others, communications with others, support systems, being part of our community, feeling loved by others. But friends who have never experienced mental health issues find it hard to help and can turn out to have certain negative side effects.
Claire recently blogged about how Singapore is the capital of education and anxiety. I have to agree with her, I have been quite busy, and stressed.
This poses a lot of questions in relation to mental health. Is our self-worth dependent on our IQ or our abilities? Will eugenics take over the world? How will eugenics affect mental health in the future? Where is the line drawn when it comes to ethics? How far would we go to alter or modify ourselves to fit the ideal body type or figure? It doesn’t get worse than this. Uncanny valley doesn’t get worse than this! This is literally the valley of valleys.
I had become a monster, and I pushed everyone away, whether friends or foes. I felt quite ashamed that I had a misunderstanding with a friend, and as a result, I actually left a meetup much earlier than expected without saying a word, because said friend was there.
As someone who goes through periods and waves of depression, self-care can get terribly difficult for me. Brushing my teeth, taking showers or washing my face becomes something I do every few days. Recently, I found one way to make myself take showers. Still working on other self-care methods, but I think taking a shower can be one of the things that make a person feel more refreshed. A slightly cool shower running down the face and body can be very effective in upping one’s mood slightly, being clean and all.
My anxiety has been quite bad recently, I had to take a valium pill for these past two days. I keep having the 21st birthday dream, where I tried to organise a 21st birthday party, but somehow, something would crop out and nothing would work out. I wished my own birthday was more grand, posher and more lavish but now it’s too late. I am not 21 anymore.
I receive treatment at IMH and have attended a myriad of support groups both over the course of my stay in the ward and since then, across various outpatient settings. Recently, my therapist suggested I attend her Psychotherapy Process Group. The objective of which would be to actively work through sticky interpersonal issues that surfaced during group interactions. I struggle with BPD traits and since they tend to manifest themselves as trust and boundary issues in many of my intimate relationships, I decided to give it a go.
Thus, I think I may appear high functioning, or I seem like I am doing okay when I am actually not. In reality, I feel that I am quite low functioning. I have huge employment and education gaps. That’s why I am writing this. I feel that I am lagging behind my peers, and I feel that I may not be able to find suitable employment in the future, so I don’t feel like I stand to lose by writing this.
Being an optimist myself, I have always chosen to focus on the bright side of things, on the things that I could change and improve. Thus, I would like to share some ideas on how to focus on the good side of things and drive out those negative thoughts through three simple steps!
Some see it as a sensitive topic when they want to ask about my experience with mental illness, but honestly, I like it. Apart from just offering a different perspective, sharing with them my experience and answering questions forces me to reflect on my past.
When we entered the mirror maze, it felt like a psychedelic drug-fuelled acid trip, which wasn’t a good thing, in my mind. We had to use our pool noodles to help us feel our way through the mirror maze, as we might knock into the mirrors accidentally. There were many dead-ends and your own reflection would stare back at you from multiple mirrors.
But what if other people don’t see it that way? What if they don’t take me seriously anymore? What if they doubt my competence? This doesn’t just apply to employers, but future clients as well. Would people trust a counsellor like me? Nonetheless, I will not stop writing about mental health. I will not stop fighting stigma. It is a life goal of mine I am not willing to give up.
What really struck me was the conundrum even ordinary people faced daily with letting go and/or holding on to intimate relationships. As someone with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) this is a struggle close to my own heart. A core feature of BPD is the presence of serious interpersonal problems. People with BPD tend to have intense, unstable relationships, characterised by frequent wavering between strong clinginess/dependency and sudden withdrawal.
For the past decade, I have believed in the right to die – if you want to die, you have the right to do so and nobody else has the right to make you live. Committing suicide is your choice, and nobody has the right to make that decision for you. I quote Rebecca Wait, author of one of my favourite books, The View on The Way Down: Because he wanted to die. Because he was ill and didn’t believe he’d ever get better. Because it was his choice. Not mine. Not my parents’. We’d have chosen to keep him […]
According to Oxford dictionary online, ghosting is defined as “the practice of ending a personal relationship with someone by suddenly and without explanation withdrawing from all communication.” The article talks about how some friendships turn awkward or sour, and neither party is willing to reconcile their differences, so they end up parting ways.
Hey guys! Recently I went to Thailand with my mum, and you could call it a sabbatical, a holiday, or whatever you call it. We returned home after 1 day in Thailand. We had received news that there was a bombing in Thailand, about 0.8km from our hotel. My mum was very scared and she was panicking, almost on the verge of a panic attack. She told me that I should have listened to my gut instincts and her sixth sense. But hindsight is only 20/20.