Sometimes the worst place you can be is in your own head
Sudah lumayan lama ya sejak saya update blog ini. Banyak banget factor yang bikin saya bahkan ga tau harus nulis apa di blog, mulai dari bisnis yang sedang kebut-kebutan, sekolah & activities Sammy yang lumayan demanding, lalu kepotong liburan dan ga ketinggalan urus rumah sendiri. Kebanyakan saya update keseharian saya di Instagram, dimana saya banyak mendapat support dari teman-teman dunia maya. Beberapa bulan terakhir ini saya sedang berjuang melawan depresi saya. Iya, psikiater mendiagnosa saya dengan major depressive disorder.
Cukup lama saya merasa ada yang salah dengan diri saya, seringnya saya cuma ngoceh.”saya stress”, tapi saya ga pernah ambil pusing. Things got worse saat kebiasaan ‘menghukum’ Sammy berubah menjadi ‘menyiksa’ Sammy. Dari yang awalnya saya hanya sentil, terakhir kali ended up dengan saya lempar dan pukul kepalanya dengan tangan. Kalau saya lagi kerja dan Sammy nagging untuk ajak saya main/panggil-panggil saya bisa teriak karena stress. Yang lebih horror, setiap kali saya melakukan itu, saya ga sadar, atau bisa dibilang dalam keadaan trance. Saya baru sadar kalau ada yang tepuk saya atau negur saya. Serem yah? Iya saya pun takut dengan diri saya sendiri sampai saya ga berani untuk dekat-dekat Sammy dan mulai blaming diri sendiri merasa kok Sammy kasihan banget dapet Mommy seperti saya. Saya akan coba cerita ya, tapi dalam bahasa Inggris karena lebih mudah untuk saya cerita dalam bahasa Inggris.
My standard is way too high, they said. I value people with my standard. I easily get frustrated when things go out of my plans. Every little thing seems so wrong in my life that I get angry to myself why do I feel this way. I had difficulties falling asleep and I only sleep for 3-4 hours a day. I can be really annoyed over cleanliness or if I see a strand of hair on the floor. I can list down more symptoms that led me to a conclusion : there must be something wrong here and I need help. At this point, I am doing this for Sammy even though a lot of people tried to convince me that I am not depressed— I am fine, but deep down I know I need professional help.
Long story short, some close friends who know me well suggested me to visit a therapist. I am glad I did. She diagnosed me with OCPD: obsessive compulsive personality disorder.
OCD? Nope. OCD is commonly related with anxiety disorder while OCPD is a personality disorder. One of the main differences between the two is that in OCD, people have thoughts they don’t want and in OCPD, people believe their thoughts are correct. This disorder features a rigid adherence to rules, perfectionism, an inability to be flexible
A person with OCPD values: precision, order & perfection. Thus, I can’t be one of those who say : don’t take it personally, let it go, why can’t you just chill. FYI, I am not either proud or ashamed about it. Her prognosis explains EVERYTHING. This is why normal people don’t understand me and neither do I.
Facing motherhood without me knowing I have a personality disorder to fix, leads me to a much worse state, which is depression (which I share in my igstory). Constant judgements, no support system, a child with SPD (Sensory Processing Disorder), left me with depressive thoughts of my life. ‘Why can’t I do it right?’
CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy) from my psychologist didn’t really help since my bursting anger can harm Sammy, so she referred me to her colleague, a psychiatrist. From the first meeting with him, I got a confirmation that I suffer from Major Depressive Disorder. According to him, depression doesn’t always portray sadness, cutting your wrists, gloomy mood, etc; it can also showing in the form of high-functioning person, in this case that’s me. I am at the point that I am not afraid to die, I want to disappear to somewhere that no one knows me. This also categorized as suicidal thoughts.
Depression episodes are real. I am currently having a rebound effect of my depression, because I cut down my anti-depressant meds dosage without my psychiatrist consent. This time around is worse than before. Lesson learned, DO NOT stop your medication without prior consultation with your psychiatrist. The side effects are nasty. Lemme give you a glimpse of my distorted mind.
Every day I feel like I’m in a 24/7 battle with my own mind, trying to keep myself alive and to be functional as a human being. To be honest, I feel pathetic, worthless, idiot, nobody, numb. I’m tired of being tired. This kind of tired isn’t the one that can be solved by sleeping in. I hate to meet people since it means I have to pretend that I am fine. I wanted to get rid of this empty feeling but it just won’t go away. I hate to get up in the morning because it means I have to deal with my son being cranky and I will end up yelling-slapping him. I hate to work on my business work but I have to earn my own penny just because getting money from my spouse feels like I am useless.
I used to talk to my closed ones about this issues, but then I think :
– They have more important business to attend to rather than listening to my pathetic ramblings
– They have their own problems (who cares about this mentally ill person anyway)
– They must be thinking I am exaggerating my issues
– They must be thinking I am just being ungrateful and I should’ve prayed more
– They must be thinking I am so boring to talk about myself all the time
– They must be thinking I can’t look into the bright side
– They must be thinking I’m not fun to be around anymore
And those are all running in my mind (and somehow some of them are having similar thoughts like I do). Thus, I started to be quiet and withdraw myself from everyone. I’d like to keep conversation light and short. I’d avoid getting personal with people (sorry peeps, now you know the reason why). I shut myself down. I’ve always thought, ‘what have I done? When did I do wrong? Why is everything so wrong in my life? Why I don’t deserve to be loved and care for?’
There were moments when I feel relieved when I knew a friend of mine has a depression too. Believe me, I am sad that he had it, but a little part of me feel glad knowing that I have a comrade, that I am not the one, that someone who knows me could understand what I think, what I’ve been feeling. I hate that both of us can’t help each other, I wish I could be there for him. Because I know how devastating it feels to fight your mind while all you wanna do is to die.
Depression is when you don’t really care about anything. Anxiety is when you care too much about everything. And having both is just like hell. People think depression is sadness. People think depression is crying. They are wrong. Depression is the constant feeling of numb. Being numb to emotions, being numb to life. The bravest thing I have ever done is continuing to live when I wanted to die. I don’t slit on my wrists whatsoever, I’m not going to kill myself, but I wouldn’t mind dying. There were times when I was longing for someone to hug me and to tell me that I’m not as worthless as I think I am. But those times were long gone.
Scary, huh? So next time you meet someone with depression, do not preach him/her about god. Do not tell them to be more grateful, to be happier, to see the bright side, to just let it go. They wanted to if they could, but sadly they couldn’t. People who are depressed is not weak-minded, they are sick. It is an illness, not a choice. Understand this. Trust me, I am not using my depression as an excuse, I’d give anything to function ‘normally’ on day to day basis. This story is just a glimpse of my dark mind and those who suffer from depression. I will try to write on weekly basis to communicate better with my readers. Wish me luck, Mommies!