My No Laughing Matter

Every Sundays, I look forward reading Lucy Gomez’s and Celine Lopez’s columns in the Sunday Lifestyle section of The Philippine Star newspaper. I enjoyed their column one Sunday, particularly last June 3, 2007, This is where I learned about Ms. Lucy’s happiness list which I eventually made gaya. This is also the same issue where I read about Celine Lopez’s “No Laughing Matter”.

In this column, she shared that for ten years, she is being treated for anxiety depression. I could really relate because I also got treated with the same sickness last 2004. Like her, I also want to share what I went through.

You see, it all started when I got hospitalized last March 2004. My stomach is very sensitive and if I eat something that is not agreeable with it, I would have LBM and would throw up like there’s no tomorrow. Of course with this I would be dehydrated. The weird thing is I got hospitalized twice after that again, with the same sickness, dehydration. My stomach has been poked around a lot (camera’s and everything) just to see what’s wrong. After going out of the hospital, I quit my job. It was then I experienced palpitating with no reason. It’s like being nervous without knowing why. I couldn’t sleep at night and when I do, I’d wake up like four hours after. I never wanted to be alone. I would cry for no reason. I would vomit uncontrollably because I was always nauseated because of my palpitation. I though I was going crazy. I felt I was so tired of being sick, I just want to end everything. For days, I don’t talk to anyone. I just stare blankly at space. I do not eat. I wanted to commit suicide.

Actually, I almost did. I was at home with the maid. I went down and got the largest knife in the kitchen and brought it to my room. I locked the door and wrote my last letter. I got the knife and tried poking my chest with it. I couldn’t do it though. Aside from the fact that it hurts, I thought how much my mom would be disappointed at me. And how my dad would be devastated he would lose his princess. And that my brothers and Faye would feel that I have let them down. So, I dressed up and went to Greenbelt church. I went inside the confession room and told the priest what I was about to do. Do you know what he told me? He said to go to the church’s office and have a scheduled counseling. What the F@%#!K? I just told him I was about to kill myself 10 minutes ago! He was an effing priest for god’s sake! Anyways, I went out of the confession booth and went to their parish office and I begged the people inside the office if I could talk to a priest now. I was really crying this time. They dismissed me by giving me a piece of paper to fill up so that they could schedule me. God I was already crying my heart out! How could these people call themselves God’s servants when they clearly cannot see a pathetic girl needing their help? I was led towards the corner by this kind lady. We sat and I talked to her what I was going through. I think I talked for a good one hour. Then she said, she was a cancer patient with nobody to take care of her. I have my family, boyfriend and friends therefore I shouldn’t be feeling that way. I said I don’t understand what’s wrong with me either. I just want to end my life because I was suffering.

This was when my gastro (the doctor), suggested I go to a psychiatrist.

The doctor she suggested was Dr. Paul Lee. When he saw me, he said I have what they call anxiety-depression. This was caused by the chemical imbalanced that happened after the numerous times I have been dehydrated. I was simply clinically depressed. This explains it because I was racking my brains why I’m going through this. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing that big in my life I should be this depressed about. He said that I should take some pills and not do anything stupid because he promised that he would make me better. I said no. I cannot afford his fee with all my medicines that I was already taking for my stomach plus the medicines he wanted me to take. So what he did was to lower his charge from Php 2,500 to Php 1,000 per visit. I realized I was in a so wrong course man! I should have taken up Psychiatry. They get paid a lot! Imagine 1k per visit and there was a pretty long line outside his clinic! Anyway, I agreed because I was desperate to get better.

I had a hard time going through with it because I was ashamed that maybe people would think I was going crazy. My mom wasn’t supportive of me, maybe she cannot accept that her unica hija was going crazy. My dad was a different story. Even living thousands of miles from me, he was very supportive. He sent money for my doctor’s fee and medicines. He called my doctor to know what was really wrong. We realized together that this is also the result of a psychological thing that happened to me when I was a kid. The depression also took its toll with my relationships. The depression made my feelings very sensitive and erratic. I would be quiet one time, happy the next, crying the next time and very mad the next.

I went to Dr Lee 3 times a week. We don’t talk much because I don’t talk at all. He talks with the people who goes with me though. They confirmed to him that I was a very active person before. A total opposite of how I was acting then. He said I just have to keep on drinking the medicines and one day I’d be back to how I was. He also suggested that I go visit my dad in Amsterdam because a change of environment was good for me.

He was right. Armed with all my medicines I went to my dad’s. A change of environment really did me good. I started laughing again and doing stuff I liked. I learned not to feel guilty of this condition because I am not the only one who has it. This illness is not a sign of weakness. With the help of medicines and friends, it will one day go away. I had occasional anxiety attacks when I was there though, but whenever I feel that, I call up Dicky in Manila and everything would be well again. After spending five months in Europe, I went back to Manila. From the airport, when I laid down my bed, I threw up big time after and started palpitating again. Dr Lee said it was a post trauma. I had to re-arrange my room because it reminded my of what I went through before I left for Europe. I continued seeing him for another six months because we had to withdraw the medicines slowly. It was so frustrating but my goal was never to return to that state again. Eventually, things returned to normal. I am just scared because they said, this could still be triggered by something tragic. Like what I’ve said, I never want to return to that state again.

I am very much thankful for those who stayed by my side during that time. Peachy and Vivian, my girlfriends and friends who supported me all the way. That kind lady at Greenbelt church who I talked to. Of course, Dicky, who would pick me up wherever I was after his work, go with me to mass (which I attended regularly) and almost camp in my bed every night because I was afraid of being left alone. He who was patient enough put up with all my shitty stuff during that time. He who also never gave up on me and believed that I would be able to pull through. I thank you very much.

Just how Celine Lopez puts it: it’s really hard to explain this condition to people who don’t have it. It doesn’t have physical signs to warrant an alarmed reaction and to be legit. Depression gives you a dull ache that may manifest itself in psychosomatic symptoms such as backaches and migraines. It is easy to dismiss it as being moody or a drama queen. But in reality, this is an illness. Though, I have stopped taking my medicines, I feel that I still battle it every now and then. I still have my good days and bad ones. This year I felt close in drowning in it again after I lost someone I love but I fought it. There a lot of people or things that would disappoint you but you have only yourself to rely on to deal with it. Do not set very high expectations for yourself and others. Accept people as they are. Again like what I have said before, depression isn’t a sign of weakness. It is an illness you have to admit you have and have yourself treated.