wallowing in self pity....

am I?

perhaps I really am...
am not sure anymore.

these thoughts are private... or so it seems... perhaps I do have it all writen across my face... the portrait of a emotion-filled being living in misery....

why is it that others who may have the same condition as me are able to live fufilling lives? is it me then who is the one who is not happy with what I have? am i really being ungrateful?
why is it that I feel that all joy had been sucked out of me... left me alone to await my untimely death?
why is it?

perhaps it is only me wallowing in self pity....
perhaps I really do despise being happy for I know not how... and am too afraid to set myself free of the only life I've known... though it's painful... it's still more familiar than a supposedly "happy" life which I know not how to live....

why is it so?

how much can a heart take?

the same heart, broken three times over three days...

how much more can it take before it eventually bleeds to death?

loosing the ones i love, whose times i've cherished sharing with...
loosing the promise that at one time i really did believed it to be real...
loosing the belief in myself that i've worked so hard in gaining over the many years spent in agony through lessons that were at times near emotionally abusive...

a dream that i've never dared to dream yet at one point was almost convinced of its reality...

I hate myself, despice this word... and I hope to die...

how much am i expected to take into this young heart of mine...?
now is just time and way....

stopping me? perhaps...
not worth it...

好痛，但我依然会忍耐……

他们都说，时间能够冲淡一切，这回受的伤，这回流过的泪，是否能够跟随时间的流逝，成为一个过去呢？应该可以吧……展开双手，让一切随着漂浮在空中的落叶变成一个回忆吧，一个爱过，也哭过的回忆吧！

你没离开我，这也许是不幸中的大幸……
每成敌人，依然还可成知心好友……
谢谢你……

这一切，我满足了……

让你受了伤，对不起……

ramblings

I feel like my moodswings are back. somedays it's so empty inside that I feel like I am floating above myself while somedays i feel so trapped, as if the house or any building for that matter is a small box that has imprisoned me in. I feel like screaming my lungs out, but i don't see the reasoning behind this.

if you're thinking if I have been quarelling with my mom, the answer is no. it's more like she's shouting but I am not getting anything registered as even her voice felt distant. I think you call it dissociation.

i am begining to start feeling like being on a emotional roller coaster all over again and it find the idea of self harm altogether tempting and exicting. am i addicted to pain? am i becoming more crazy than I already am? i feel like i am hurting alot. hurting so much deep inside, but these feelings are somehow playing hide and seek with me. appearing out of no where to grab my attention, only to fade back into the shadows when noticed and the whole thing repeats itself all over again.

my mind is full of things...

i'm scared...

i'm lonely...

i'm missing something inside....

it's getting harder and harder to hang on... but somehow, at the weirdest times, i manage to pull through...

nonsensical ramblings...

fear is creeping in...

is it really the fear? is this the meaning of loosing confidance or is this what normal people usually feel... what they would call "uncertainity"? perhaps I am jsut thinking too much... perhaps all these are but emotions that can be simply passed off as normal everyday feelings...

but then again... somehow, in a way somewhat terrifying, I sense not its familiarity....

I feel alien feeling like me... this current me... I have no knowledge of....

it's a sudden fear of "what if"s for my future... well, for this year at least... it's my finals this year and I really need to get the grades that will be my key to opening more doors leading down this path in psychology that i've so stubournly chosen as my set career... and the more I think of it, the lest confident I feel... the less confidence I found within myself, the more I am questioning my own capabilities, and now, my sanity....

what if all these worrying are nothing but part of my anxiety?

or worse...

what if the initial high self esteem and confidence was nothing but a mere exhibition of how cunningly deceiving my supposed "hypomania" can be?

my blessing and my curse....

time flies...

and we just have got to go along with it.....
some times it's tiring, being on this journey, but then again, think of all the smiles, the laughters, both the fun times and the sad moments, the tear jerking moments when hearts have been touched... that's what life is....

it's like seeing a movie... what I see in my head.... moving pictures of innocent children running around in a lovely spring time along the fine green pasture coloured in a amazing rainbow hue by wildflowers that so strongly grew in the fields....

i am having so much feelings at the moment that it's hard to discern one feeling from another....

thank you

Thank you very much for all that you’ve done. It’s real nice to have our conversation taking a different route for once… for once I wasn’t calling you, overwhelmed with feelings, needing you to calm me down, for once it’s not a one way thing, having you telling me stories, trying to cheer me up, for once we are sharing a nice laugh over things over the phone. It was a pleasant conversation. I feel blessed having known you. Dissolvable risperdal eh? Nice, perhaps I should get some… in case for rainy season…

You know, the one thing that you said to me over the phone today that really gave me a peace of mind was that you are sure that I am not 100% bipolar. You said that perhaps I may be some, a little, but definitely not totally. Besides, if I were, my medication would need to be much higher anyway. And that made me smile… for having a doctor who is not overly biological oriented. And the tale about the obsessive turning schizophrenic, that’s a good one... Just shows how psychiatry is still in its premature stage… But that’s life, isn’t it?

Yea, I guess you’re really right, I am really lucky having a really nice psychiatrist who’s not all into labeling and drugging people up on my side. I guess, looking on the bright side of things, yes, it’s a painful journey having to grow up with and perhaps live the rest of my life with a emotional condition, God I hate the word “mental illness”, but then, that’s what I have right? Have to be accepting of myself right? But then, despite all the tears from this journey, I have a great amount of joy as well, for I’ve been blessed by a great many friends who accept for who I am, not what I present myself to them as… I got to cross paths with many wonderful people in this soul healing trade that has kept me alive enough to appreciate them… those who scolded me and blackmailed me into accepting treatment, those who have been firm in getting me to accept the help that I so desperately need and those so gentle that any wound can be healed by just their words alone… I’m so very thankful for having them by my side, taking an interest in me, and not giving me up as a hopeless case even though on so many occasions, even I feel that I am a hopeless case myself and pitied those who had to work with me…

Yes, those were the times when I was down in the pits of depression, wondering if I should let go and unravel into the realms of insanity, wondering if that’s a better path, meeting madness head on and making friends with it… embracing it and merging with it for all I care, for it seemed so enticing, so tempting, to give up fighting for my life, to give up searching for that apparent faint streak of light at the end of the tunnel which I have never once caught glimpse of. Silent screams and racing thoughts in my mind, day and night…

But it’s gone now… I am me now…

Funny… I guess, it is a blessing, though a really painful and hurtful one at that, to have a critique of a mom who wishes and assumes that everything is normal… perhaps ignorance really is bliss. And sometimes I really do wonder is she the one reason I am still in touch with reality? For her act of ignoring my pain and suffering, her denial of anything psychiatrically wrong with me had in a sickly way done me some good by preventing me from falling into the trap of playing the sick role for the rest of my life…

bipolar? for real?

Went to see the psychiatrist today for the final time due to financial constraints and the inability for mom to accept the possibility that her only daughter is mentally ill and requires psychiatric treatment. Before I left, I asked him the question about what is wrong with me, my diagnosis that is and waited for the answer that I both dreaded and so wanted to hear. Everything fell silent for that split second when those words were uttered. He told me that it is certain that I do have a mood disorder, the question is that do I have bipolar disorder or not. And he answered yes.

And I guess, I really don’t know if I should be smiling a sigh of relief for having someone confirm the one thing that have been questioned by a few other professionals, or should I start crying tears to soften the impact upon realizing that I have an illness that’s chronic, a mental illness that will haunt me for the rest of my life if not controlled by medication. And so many other emotions came at me.

I mean, should I really trust his guy? He seems nice and funny, but can I really trust him to summarize all my pain and anguish, practically my whole life into two simple words “bipolar disorder”? this guy who have only seen me twice in my life, who barely knows me for my personality, my characteristic, the me that my friends see, the me when happy and sad, when angry and pleasant? Is his opinion really final? What about Dr. Chong’s? the one that was there for me when I was down, the one who had received my phone calls late at night, when he is busy minding other patients, the one who called me to see how I am, when he is not even charging me a single cent? Who should I listen?

Sigh…..

is it finally over? hope so...

there is so much to write and there is fear that if I don't write fast enough, I will forget.. but these are all such nice thoughts...nice thoughts that will go to waste if forgotten... nice memories that will loose its marks if not recorded....

YL asked if I would just write a short paragraph on how I got his book and what I felt after reading it to be included into its fourth print... wow... fourth print already... am really happy for him... am even more happy to be given this chance, this opportunity... yea, I will work on it... I will work hard on it... besides, it has provided me something to work on until the end of this holiday... perhaps things are finally looking up...

hmm.... been on the seroquel for almost a week now and am feeling great... perhaps it's all over now... am feeling light hearted and I wish I can fly... soar like the birds in the sky... to be free of the grasp of deep depression...to be born new... to face each day with a smile on my face....

ha ha...

she's at it again...

you're useless, worthless...
no matter what you do, it's of no use... not
worth anyone's love...
you're calculative and selfish... you're doing all
these to me

yea... I am doing all these to her.. yea, I'm the bad guy here... of course... how stupid can i be? I'm always the one doing all the wrong things in life with the sole purpose of making her life miserable... ever thought that it has been perhaps working the other way around?

I know I shouldn't be angry at her, instead, be thankful that she's raising me... but then again, if I were to not at least divert part of my anger at her, the fiery flames of my rage would have most probably burnt myself to death some many years ago... yet, alongside anger at her comes guilt... guilt that I am a child anything but perfect... a child who is only hurting those that she ought to never hurt at all....

and all this child knows now is to cry....

help me...

I'm starting to feel disconnected form reality again.... my head is spinning and it's becoming more and more blurry... life that is... I don't know what i want.. jsut that i am feeling so far away... as if I am floating somewhere, viewing life from a third person's perspective... it's uncomfortable.. this feeling...

I need to feel... I need to touch and feel my own existance... to know that I am alive... I need to know that I am breathing and well.... I need to bleed and feel the pain that is all so comforting... I need an outlet for this unfeeling numbness that is all too overwhelming....

I'm not asking too much am i? I am only asking to be well and okay... I am only asking to be functional... to be free from overwhelming emotions that are driving me insane.... to be free from a life of numbness that is never ending....

this life, my life, a life that I've know so well overtime... yet is a life that I know nothing of... it's mine yet not mine to own for i have no control of what i feel... what then is the meaning of living when i can't feel? yet, at the same time, what is the meaning of living when i live each day hoping it's the last?

thinking.....

spoke to a psychiatrist last weekend finally... it wasn't really a pretty sight at the clinic.... it was so overcrowded that I felt I was going to either suffocate someone out of anxiety or end up suffocating myself.... perhaps I am just simply over reacting... perhaps it's just my anxiety acting out again.... perhaps i just don't know anything much anymore....

he's suggesting that it's most likely not just simply anxiety alone... perhaps it's something more... it scares me... scares me to hear another person asking the same thing over the course of two years.... it scares me to find myself start wondering what if he's right? scares the hell out of me to look at the whole picture of my problem being bigger than it already is.... scares me that if he's right, I might end up like JN....

spoke to C this morning and I guess, thank God for him... he understands and somehow has the ability to make things seem more manageable.... asked him why he asked about the manic depression thingy two years ago and he said that partially it was part of the standard questions to ask and as well as I was hyper then.... was I? I really can't remember much... yes, I remember the racing thoughts and the agitation and all.... but other than that, I really do realised that most of my life have been a blur....

it's as if I've never really woken up from my sleep.... as if all these while I've been living in a fog so thick that no light can penetrate and shine through....

sigh.... perhaps I am jsut simply thinking too much....
then again.... with how things are, how can i not think?