The Warrior

My heart is beating so fast 

My chest is hurting 

I want to crawl out of my skin 

Thoughts are racing 

Chaos inside my mind 

Sending waves of excruciating pain all throughout my body 

I took my pillow 

I screamed into it the loudest I could 

I sobbed 

I did not feel better 

I am writing 

A desperate attempt to put this pain on paper 

To reach out to everyone, anyone 

But I know no one can help me 

I am stuck through it all

Alone 

No matter who’s around 

No one can carry my pain 

I do not believe it 

I am not getting better 

I am looking for God around, everywhere 

Waiting for a divine intervention 

One I was promised would always be there when I was a child 

I wait and I cry some more 

I scream

I pray

I beg

Five years and counting 

All I get is silence 

As if bipolar and borderline weren’t enough 

Now I have to deal with trauma on top 

I am looking 

For anyone 

Anything 

Something 

There must be a way out of this prison 

This mental chamber of torture 

Slow death 

I did not choose to exist 

I did not choose this 

And apparently I do not have a choice to end it either 

As if I am here only to suffer 

I do not want to hear it 

Empty promises of recovery 

You do not know that 

You cannot guarantee that 

Do not ask me to hang on to life 

If you do not know my pain. 

I am neither alive nor dead 

I am trying 

I am trying the hardest I can 

To not get to the day 

Where you’d be reading my note

Where you’d be witnessing the end of it all 

I am done listening to your talks about how there is beauty in life and that it gets better. You don’t know that.

It doesn’t get better. It just doesn’t. Beauty is in your eyes, and your eyes are not covered by the overwhelming darkness that comes with depression, or the physical pain that comes with anxiety and the inevitable feeling that something terrible is about to happen. Beauty cannot be found when there are voices in your head constantly telling you to kill yourself and you actually want to because you can’t take the pain anymore.

Quit preaching. Quit promising things that you can’t provide, you don’t even know if it’s going to happen. You are not in my place and I am not in yours and just like I don’t know what it’s like to be you, you don’t know what it’s like to be me. No, life isn’t beautiful. Life is painful. It’s painful when you are feeling lonely even when you have all your loved ones around you. It is painful when absolutely nothing makes you happy. It is painful when you are truly grateful for the blessings that you have but you can’t feel them at the same time. It is painful when you cancel plans, when you refuse to go out with your friends because you are scared to get a panic attack and become a show to everyone around you. You are so lonely but you physically can’t be around anyone. You are forced to stay in that prison. It is damn painful when your heart is always beating fast, skipping beats, your palms are sweaty, your vision is blurry and your dizziness is making you lose balance and awareness of anything or anyone around you.

Do not tell me to keep fighting, I’ve put in my blood, flesh and soul into this battle and you are absolutely clueless. I’m not waiting for you to tell me to fight, I am. Every single day. But you know what? I am done fighting.

Do not tell me to think about other people’s problems because believe me seeing other people hurt is one of the reasons I am in this mess.

People got murdered. People got arrested. Families terrorized. Children drowning in the sea because a bunch of countries decided that their laws are more important than human life. People are fucking dying and I am aware of that and it hurts that I can’t do anything about it. Don’t you ever think that there is a day when I don’t hurt for them. But that doesn’t make my pain any easier or less important. I am in a prison, one you know nothing about. I can see my life, I can see everyone and everything I love but I can’t feel it. I can’t feel anything except this endless pain.

Do not tell me everyone have problems. I am aware of that but not everyone is mentally ill.

Quit telling me to enjoy my life because I am not waiting for your green light to find happiness. If I could, I would.

Quit giving me useless unsolicited advice that only makes me feel fifty times worse.

Mentally ill people do not need your preaching. They need you to listen, they need your empathy and your support. Don’t play Buddha, don’t think for one second that you know better than they do. Don’t look down on them because if you were in their place, you would be struggling the same way.

If you don’t have mental illness, thank your God and understand that no matter what you do, you will NEVER fully understand what it’s like to be mentally ill. So just listen.

It was not easy to write this post because it hurts to think of all the times I wanted to end my life. Yet, It is important to me that people understand how suicidal ideations affect a person. Maybe then people like me will get the support they need and deserve.  

No one likes to hurt themselves. No one wants to kill themselves. Death is scary; but for people like me, life gets unbearably scarier that suicide seems like the only way out. 

When you hear that someone killed himself, when you listen to a friend or a loved one express their suicidal thoughts, know that they have reached a level where life has become impossible in their eyes. A sense of inevitable doom has taken over; they are trapped and they can’t find a way out. They are not telling you that to seek your attention or your sympathies, they are merely looking for anyone to help them find a reason to stay. It is a cry for help in a time where life feels like a surface of heated steel they are standing on and death seems like the only way they can get rid of this excruciating pain. 

I remember a time when suicide was a concept that I was unfamiliar with, something that seemed so far away from me that I did not have to think about. Five years ago, when my mental health started to deteriorate, suicide has become a shadow chasing me everywhere I go. When I was diagnosed with Bipolar mood disorder, I knew that this shadow will haunt me for life so I needed to find a way to fight it. 

How do I feel that is bad enough to make me wish I am dead? Let me tell you. 

 When depression kicks in, which is a lot of the time, everything loses meaning. In my depressive phases, some days I become bed bound, I sleep most of the time and when I am awake I watch shows to escape this harsh reality. If I try to resist and leave the house, crying spells will hit me anytime, anywhere. I would cry my eyes out and I wouldn’t even know why. Nothing helps, not going out, not activities I usually enjoy, not a loved one’s embrace, absolutely nothing helps. I become trapped in a constant state of sorrow. 

When anxiety kicks in, my heart starts beating so fast and fear rushes through my guts as if I am in danger. Anxiety is a constant state of fear even if I am actually safe in my house. When a panic attack kicks in, I lose the ability to breathe, my chest would hurt so much, my hands would go numb and my mind would be absolutely convinced that I am dying right now. 

I can’t eat properly. 

I can’t sleep, and when I do I am terrified from the horrible nightmares and night terrors I get most of the nights. I am actually scared to sleep.

I can’t be around those who I love without feeling alone, I do not feel their existence or their love.

I feel like I do not belong, like an outcast. 

I feel homeless even when I am at home, I do not know where home is because I can’t find comfort anywhere. 

Mixed and extreme emotions. 

Anger that can destroy everything around me. 

Frustration and irritation. 

Defeat. I am broken. 

An urge to cut through my flesh, harm myself in any way I can. 

In moments like these, I’d think to myself that this is not a way to live, I did not choose this. In the midst of my despair, I start thinking that if I can’t find peace and comfort here in this world, then perhaps I should just go ahead and kill myself. Even in the times I try to keep myself busy, I start getting intrusive thoughts, ones that I can’t dismiss no matter how hard I try, that I should just go ahead, muster the courage to end my misery with my bare hands. I get mental images of me lying on the floor bleeding to death, and my body starts acting like it is actually happening. 

A little over a year ago, I chose a plan to end my life and I wrote my note to my parents, which I haven’t sent at the time. The plan is always in my head and the note is on my phone and everyday I fight the hardest I can to actually not go through with it. I try to keep my distance from knives and blades because they only trigger the urge to slit my wrist.  All my energy goes towards trying to stay alive, even though I can’t find a single reason why I should. 

I am aware that God does not want me to end my life, so I do not need anyone to tell me that I should not be thinking this way. I did not choose to think this way, I do not think about suicide because I want to escape life problems, it is a symptom of depression, one I cannot control. Before you drown in your religious self righteousness and start judging people like me, know that this is not something that we chose and we are doing the best we can to find the light in the darkness, one that you haven’t experienced. I am also aware that if I end my life, I will cause pain to my family, friends and anyone who cares about me, believe me, I think about them all the time. Yet, at the end of the day, I am the one living with mental illness, I am the one struggling with depression and anxiety. I am the one who died while she is still alive.. No one can carry my pain. 

In my mind, I know all the reasons for which I should hang on to life, but I do not feel any of them in my heart. In my darkest moments, all these reasons evaporate and all I am left with is hopelessness and pain. 

Yes, I am suicidal. Yes, I do want to kill myself but I wake up everyday to fight for my life and that’s bravery. I pray to God to give me the strength to keep going, even when I do not feel like he is listening; which is most of the time. Every single day, I look for reasons to keep going and that is resilience. 

When someone talks about their suicidal thoughts, do not take it lightly, believe them before it is too late and you are attending their funeral. 

Before you think you are fit to talk to someone who is contemplating suicide, make sure you have the knowledge you need. It is a very critical situation and if you do not handle it right, you will make it worse. Here are some of the things people in my place do not want to hear:

• It is forbidden in religion to kill yourself
• Life is beautiful, you just need to live it to fullest 
• Be grateful for what you have, other people have it worse
• Just keep yourself busy
• We will all die one day, so just wait it out

Be mindful about the things you say. 

What you could do is let them know that you are here for them, listen to them attentively, remind them that they are loved. Encourage them to seek professional help. 

May all the warriors who are fighting for their lives find salvation and may the warriors who could not keep going find the peace they did not find here in this world. May their beautiful souls rest in peace.. 

Did you think we were done?

I was just getting started. Ten pages aren’t even enough to describe what you’ve done to me and my life. Perhaps I can show you. Do you see my left arm? It will never be the same. You had me cut into my own flesh, literally. I lost count after the nineteenth scar. One on top of the other, I can’t tell them apart anymore. Your ultimate goal was that in one of those times, I would slit my wrist once and for all. Isn’t that right? You wanted me dead and I am not going to lie, I wanted me dead too. So many times I would sit there, watching my blood spill on the floor, thinking of reasons why I should not cut my nerve and bleed to death once and for all. I had no reason. I literally had no reason. Not one. Am I not doing this because God would not be happy and I would end up in hell? Who’s to say God is happy now? Who’s to say I am some one who would end up in heaven anyway? Or so you had me believe. Am I not doing it for my parents? “You are a burden, you bring them pain and agony, they are better off without you,” you whispered in my ear, breathing down my neck, screaming inside my head to just get it done and over with. I got away every time, so far.. Self harm, one of your bloody symptoms, I did not choose this. No one chooses to hurt themselves. I’ve been in this situation countless times now and every time, something inside of me did not want to die. The basic human trait of survival? Maybe. But how can I live without a reason? How can I beat a demon that is residing within my every particle? You are always in my head, attempting to control my every thought, my breathing, my heart rate, my muscles, my reflexes, my body movements, my appetite and my immunity..

Did you know that I don’t remember the last time I actually had a good night sleep? It’s been years.. People sleep to rest, I sleep so you can terrorize me even more. Remember that dream I had three months ago? When I died and found myself in a grave? It was all dark and any loneliness you had me experience in this life is nothing compared to the loneliness I felt inside the grave. I remember a time when sleep used to give me comfort and safety, now, I worry every night before I sleep about what I will see in my dreams.

Do you have any idea how scary it is to be paranoid and delusional? For two months, I was convinced my parents and my friends were hiding something from me. I even thought that I was sicker than I know and they were lying to me. Those delusions you planted within my mind were destructive and unsettling. I’ve never been this scared in my life, being at home where I am supposed to feel safe, you had me believe that someone is in the house with me hiding my things. I knew I live alone, I was always aware of that fact. Nevertheless, you went as far as controlling my sight; I could not see the things I am looking for even though they were right in front of me. It was all just so you can feed those delusions even more. Are you not entertained yet? How about the voices of a damn crowd in my hallway, or the noises of doors being opened and closed or the damn music you were playing most of the time in my head? None of it was real and it terrorized me. YOU TERRORIZED ME. You wanted me to give up, you wanted me to believe the society, that I am crazy. They are wrong and so are you. There is no such thing as crazy but there are symptoms that come and go, like any other illness. The truth is I am smart, strong, self-aware, empathic, caring, creative and determinant. That’s right, you are not going to destroy my self image.

I promise you, that for the rest of my days, I will make sure that people find out the truth about you. I swear it. I will fight for myself and people who are suffering like me, fighters like me. It is time for everyone to know what you really are , for ignorance about mental illness to end. It is time for the world to see us for what we are: WARRIORS.

You took my life away.
You ripped it apart.
You put me in a glass box, locked me up, I can see my loved ones, I am screaming in pain but they can’t hear me. Even if they did, there is nothing they can do to get me out. Only I can get myself out but you sucked all the life out of me so that I never leave and you left me broken and defeated. How nicely you’ve arranged the box.. Such a nice picture of me, all dressed up, smiling, looking my best really but it is not the truth now is it?. It is a facade, a lie you and I created so that I look normal as much as possible. But am I? Normal? What is normal? Is it like a uniform we are all supposed to wear? Conformity?
Do you remember that time I had an important interview, for a dream job of mine, and you decided to bless me with some intense anxiety? Yeah, I couldn’t talk. I stuttered. I could not even understand the questions I was being asked, let alone answer them. I’ve made a fool of myself. Needless to say I did not get the job and I haven’t tried again ever since. Isn’t that what you wanted? To not have a job I am passionate about, something to look forward to every morning, something that would help me feel good about myself. But then again, that would sabotage your plan to ruin my life. This is not the only time I was ready and eager for something and I mess it up because I am anxious.
How about all those nights I cry myself to sleep and I do not even know why. You have made me lose so many valuable moments I was supposed to enjoy. Do you remember how I was a zombie in my sister’s graduation? Panicking on the inside, anxious because I am unable to handle crowds, focusing all my energy on not getting a panic attack. My little sister all grown up in her cap and gown, I could not even tell her how proud I am of her or how happy I am to share this moment with her. I was not present. I wasn’t myself, not that I know who I am anymore. You blurred that out. It was as if I did not exist. I could not soak up every moment of this special event and engrave it in my memory. How could I when you have messed that up too.
How about the days I could have spent with my parents, my family and my friends but instead you have kept me in bed with a big black cloud over my head. Do you realise that I will never get those days back? The worst part is I don’t even know when you intend to leave me alone so thinking about the time I could have with them in the future is of no consolation. It is not guaranteed. It never is. You have cut all ties, any connection I can have with them. You insist on making me drown in loneliness, on making me feel like a stranger wherever I go. Is that what you want me to be? An outcast?
Is there anything worse than having those you love around you but being unable to feel their presence? That’s right, there is: not feeling your own presence. How can I feel anyone’s presence if I can’t feel my own? For two months now, 77 days to be precise, you have been keeping me in a dream-like state. Nothing feels real. I look at my hands and I do not know what I am looking at. I look in the mirror and I cannot recognise myself. I do not know if I am awake or if I am dreaming or if I am actually dead or if I am in a different dimension. Crazy? Come on now, this isn’t the weirdest thought you have thrown in my mind, I got my fair share of those thanks to you. Just when I thought things can’t get any worse, you had to step in and prove me wrong. Like I haven’t lost enough already, I also had to lose my very basic right of feeling my own presence, of being grounded.