I was 13 back then when I felt like I wanted to end my life. I can’t remember what was the reason back then. But to be honest, I was the black sheep of the family. I was bullied, I was often called “ampon” (Adopted, in Filipino) because my stepfather is of another race, though my mother, is my biological mother. That was during freshman year (high school). I was always locked up in my room. I spent most of my day sleeping.
I was also 13 when I started self harming. My mother found out about it and days after, I got myself a visitor. (I didn’t knew she was a psychologist back then). We’re talking, and the next thing I knew, she told me to draw a house, a tree, a person (I didn’t knew what is was before, until I got into college, I took Psychology). I wasn’t informed of the intervention (or diagnosis, if there is any), maybe because I was just 13 back then. Almost every night, I’m having trouble sleeping; Heavy feeling on my abdomen, chills, shaking, heart’s beating so fast.
When I was 15 (3rd year high school), I transfered into another school where there are only 6 of us in a class. The school was a newly built branch so the population isn’t really big. But little did I know, the same thing will happened again. I didn’t know if it was depression or anything but my self harm was consistent. I’d drink different medicine all at once.
When I was 16(freshman college), one night, I was really feeling devastated that I took 20 paracetamols and 20 other medicines all at once. I fell asleep after crying too much and was awaken by the aching tummy. I was vomiting so much that they had to take me to the hospital. I told my mother about what I did. And I cried.
I asked God, “why am I not dead yet?”
To make the long story short, I got discharged after a week. I wasn’t allowed to lock my door, I wasn’t allowed to take ahold of any medicines, I was being watched 24/7. And I felt like the situation got worst. I wanted to be alone so bad. Instead of sleeping on the bed, I’d sleep inside my closet. I’d spend the day locked inside, just leaning and sitting since it’s not that big. But I was forbidden to do so. Then I figured out how to climb up our roof. I’d sit there with my feet hanging down. Consistent thoughts of, “what if I jump? But I’d still be alive because houses are so close to one another”.
Months passed by and I felt okay. It’s like on and off though, ever since.
Now I am 21. A Bachelor of psychology degree holder, and a registered psychometrician.
Before I got here, 2 years ago, I remember one of the poem I wrote about it. The line goes,
“the rusted bars made it easy for me to break one, then escape–
but the world’s so cruel,
what I did was another mistake.
I knew it wasn’t a phase.
It’s just a matter of what will trigger.
The past years, it was just inside me, resting.
I thought I had the strength to abandon him.
The animal in me has awaken,
my tears were a loud noise for him.
He told me, once again- just like years ago-
About the place where the cage is no longer locked–
A place where everyone knew about.
I told him, I don’t wanna sin no more.
He told me it’s the last sin I’ll ever do.
And I’m starting to like the idea.” Whenever I feel ‘it’, I try to sublimate it by writing poetries over and over to avoid hurting myself.
Now, I am feeling okay. I don’t know if it’ll happened again soon. I wasn’t given diagnosis, or again, I don’t know if I was but I wasn’t just informed since I was a minor then. But one thing I know, the experiences I’ve had will help me understand those people who are going through it better. I’m fighting anxiety attacks as well but I know I’m winning. I’ll win this battle. I’ve been through so much. I’m not giving up.