Tag Archives: trigger warning

Depression as a woman

Imagine feeling empty, sad, hopeless, worthless, directionless and lost.

Anxious and panicky, sensitive to lights, sounds and casual words.

Couple that with monthly intense mood swings, tears that flow easily, body aches and exhaustion, need for sleep throughout the day, aching back and swollen breasts.

Now your emptiness and loneliness is heightened with the consistent flow of blood and unfertilised eggs.

My brain becomes a ticking alarm clock reminding me it’s time for my pill again.

Its choice of alarm tune?

The urge to pop handfuls of pills, to get knock out drunk, to do something, anything to mute the mind and feelings. She doesn’t scream at the back of my mind anymore, but her toxic breath fogs the brain in the meantime.

Up till I take that little pill and go to bed. Things are better when I wake up. But in between, there’s no guarantee what the subconscious will unleash on my sleeping mind.

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Rape victim, Rape survivor.

How passive, how past tensed. But it remains constant in your life.

It remains when you’re walking home late at night, keys between your fingers, poised to pierce.

It remains with every sip of alcohol, never to leave your hand, maximum two glasses, never again the hard stuff only the sweet easy ones. Only female friends around you making sure you’re safe.

It remains when you masterbate and feel guilty for feeling pleasure, cause you have glimpses of memory where you were drunk and enjoying what he was doing to your body.

It remains when you start to fall in love and want to be intimate, wondering if they might in turn rape you too. 

It remains as your past, present and future because once it has happened, you can never gain back that ease and trust, the lightness that some may treat the word like a punchline.

It remains as nightmares and self-loathing for your love and trust and belief in the fundamental goodness of humans.

It remains, now 7 months in. And it will remain in my wariness and my fear and hesitation and doubts and anxiety and tears and emptiness and blood tests and std tests and money and uncertainty about travelling and being alone and looking under the bed in the daytime and watching the curtains fearing who might be behind and turning my back to the door but also trying to stay still and tucked in on all sides with the blanket to prevent any access.

It remains in my fear and disgust and contempt and hatred and sadness in my libido. Betrayed when it ought to dry up and clamp shut, right? The other woman I was made without permission. Othered for what was done to me.

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Dripping, pouring, exposed, leaking.

Dry, rough, ashy, cracked, tears and rips, lines and drags, pulling tight and wrapped.

Expand, pain, screams in my mind, deafening, clench and twisted cramp, twitch twitch.

Spark of anxiety, nausea, nerves, stiffen, swallow, restricted pipes. 

Grey fog slick, thin clogging layer, smog, clouded, broken veins, loose powders, sharp sting of young grapes, quick pumps pit pattering.

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Looking out for Number 1

Yes, the rape was not your fault.
You weren’t asking for it.
You were drinking
You were having fun
You did not deserve to be raped.

Yes, the molest was not your fault.
You didn’t ask for it.
You were drunk
You trusted your friend
You did not deserve to be molested.

But, my love
The world is a cruel place.
Your friends won’t always be there
They might not see the drinks as your crutch
They might not see your cry for help
They might wave you off as vicarious and wild

And, my love
People are cruel creatures
Where No means Yes
And trust is but a tool for abuse

So ignore those who tell you
“You should stop drinking”
“You shouldn’t trust guys so easily”
“Don’t drink so much next time”
“Don’t go out drinking in unknown places with unknown people”

But you should take care of yourself.
Because at the end of the day,
The world is a cruel place
Filled with cruel creatures
And no one is around to watch out for you

Only you can care for you.

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Shit happened in Bangkok.
Nearly lost a friendship.
Was played for two days only to be dropped, and have him confess to my friend he was just playing with me.
The married guy who took advantage of my drunk body.
Just shitty.

But I also got to know my travel buddy better as a person.
I understood the extent of my impulse issues with clarity.
I met really interesting people
Got to know what I find an enjoyable holiday

And the best was probably during one of the scariest moments in the whole trip
A bunch of us, 10 if I recall right, took the floating market tour. On the way back, our driver was drunk and less than 10 minutes on the road and he was swerving onto the curb. Thank God for our Swedish friend who shouted for the driver to stop and let us out.
Unfortunately for us, no one with a license was sober enough to drive. That’s what happens when you go to a subpar floating market and beer is hella cheap in Thailand.
One of us started to get physical while trying to argue with the driver to step out and call their company, so he got out and ran to the back of the car. Someone shouted, “He’s going to get a gun!”
I was seated at the back. The driver tossed opened the back door of the van and started rummaging. Thank God for the guys who ran out to stop him. I don’t know if there really was a gun but all I felt was fear, uncertainty and shock. There’s no time for reflections or regrets when you think you’re about to die. All you think about is “Am I going to die?”

He shouted at us all to get out of the van and so the boys worked on how to get our way home. The driver still there drunk and pissed off. The shock faded off eventually and translated into panic as I realised I could have died. Cue panic attack. Some of my boys came over and asked how I was, hands on shoulder, staring into my face.

Sorry, I’m panicking.

No love do whatever it takes, whatever you need. Do you need some water? It’s alright now, just breathe. Smiles

The sweetest darlings, the only ones I’ve ever met who understood my panic attack, gave me enough space but also the right amount of attention. They didn’t patronise or fumble over me, they didn’t get uncomfortable and try to leave me alone. They had to deal with our ride back but they wanted me to be alright.

I love them. I miss them. I wish I had all their contacts. At least I still have Mark’s. I wish I had Ricky or Boston guy or Ben on Facebook or an address or smth though.

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Yea, I guess I’m ‘crazy’

Y’know that frustrating phrase people with mental illnesses always say?
“You don’t understand”
“You don’t get it”
“Nobody will ever understand me”

Or y’know how they seem to blame their mental illness for everything?
“I’m sorry for getting so mad, it’s one of the symptoms”
“I can’t stop thinking or worrying so much, it’s just something that happens”
“I just feel a lot okay, I don’t expect you to understand”

And y’know what else? The fact that you always have to coddle them.
“Why can’t you just listen and understand how I’m feeling?”
“This is just who I am, it’s part of me, I can’t change it!”
“I don’t care who knows, they need to accept it or leave”

I think the worst is how despite their ‘pride’, they want to keep it hush-hush.
“I can’t write it down, I’ll never get a job”
“Nah, they don’t need to know this. They don’t matter to me”
“I don’t want them to talk”

Yea it’s annoying, infuriating, sometimes a little pathetic.

But I don’t think you will ever understand, because I can’t understand.
I don’t know why I feel so much, so deeply; how did it come about; why is it here to stay.

I’m trying to make you understand that I don’t want all these to happen. I know how crazy, stupid, ridiculous these behaviours seem, trust me, I want them to end.

It’s here to stay though, so no matter how much I love and need you, I’ll rather warn you first so you have a chance to escape it. I can’t, but you can.

To think this private internal mess that I can’t control, can’t understand, can’t predict, is the very same mess that once publicly known will be my own label;

brand me a leper

I don’t know why it’s happening, believe me, I want to be normal

But I can’t.

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