"Everyone has a story to tell. There’s a reason why they are the way they are. So, before you start talking, please look in me, in my eyes of words, where I pour everything that crippling up inside my only heart that still beating alive. There will be some connections between our lines where we could meet up at some point, understand each other. Spread the love that once we had. Stay safe & stay alive."

Between the Lines.

Not very welcoming, but warm.
Not very cold, but sweet.

No, I do not remember how to describe my very first step in this place. I do not wish to be here, but I was there. I was being trapped there, being in prison of earth but a friendly one. It's not dark and cold. (but it is cold by the weather and all the fans open, lol) It's bright and unexplainable feelings.

This is my story,
into the road of recovery in the psychiatric ward.

I was being slow-forced to get into the ward, I remember vividly that I don't want to be warded. I told my psychiatrist, Dr. Ahmad, that I was okay and I do not wish to being warded. Because I've never experience it and I don't wish about it. But before that moment, the date was 29 November 2017, on the morning, I was visited one of my junior by age whom was being warded in HKL and I kinda admit that I already felt suicidal this morning, because of my family matters, it just that I didn't showed it to people. Then, I had my psychiatrist appointment in the evening that day. That's it when it's all started to crash down in front of him and Dr. Ayu. I told him every single thing that I felt that day, how exactly I want to fucking KILL MYSELF. 

and boom! "Alin, I need you to stay here in the hospital's ward for ONE NIGHT for our observation." I refused, by not saying any words. I was scratching my hands silently, mark as my protests. But he didn't notice that, maybe. And then, they asked about my mother's and brother's numbers as well as my father's. They call called and talked and then bam!, I had to sign a paper then I had to admit to the Ward 33, Wad Psikiatri Perempuan, PKKN, Sg Buloh. 

I was being sent there by ambulance, -- still my very first time got into an ambulance. I wasn't aggressive, I was quite, like I can't do anything, I have to follow everything. Then, there's nurse that welcome me. -- not very welcoming but friendly. -- she holds my hands as she saw me being dumb scared, -- ITS MY VERY FIRST TIME BEING WARDED. She asked what did I bought in my bag, I threw it all on the nurse's counter. There's also my razor blades. --all of them. The nurse kept it safe with them. Then I have to change my attire into ward's attire. The nurse followed me to change because she had to see all of scars and wounds all over body. Then, the life towards the new life, new rules began in the ward.

Day 1.
On the day I was i, it was 5:30 p.m. ad it was near to "tea time". and I refused to eat because I was protesting, and I didn't want to eat. I told them if they forced me to eat, I would purge it back. I had no idea why did I told them. It was like a threat. --most likely a real threat. and the war between me, foods and the nurse begins. I was being told if I didn't want to eat it will be more difficult if I want to get out from the ward. Yes, I really freaking WANT to get out from the ward since the first step I was in. I don't remember if I was eat back then.. So I will continue with what I remembered. On medication time, on this day, I was being told that DR. Ahmad only gave me two injection instead. I was okay since I start to hate eating medication because of weight gain issues. But the injection gave me one night with feeling sick on my arms, (feeling lethargic and numb.

Day 2. 
It was Thursday and morning. I used to hate morning.. But in ward, I'm getting used to wake up early and even take my bath early even it is cold as fuck. Today was boring and just having lots of war with the nurse because I don't want to eat. I ate my breakfast when the nurses already threat me back to put me o tube and iv drip like people with anorexia does. Ugh, of course I do not want to be in tube because it will be super uncomfortable and uneasy to sit or sleep. and I ate my breakfast super late, only after the expert and psychiatrist that was on call that day came to interview my morning. she asked me to try eat and not purge it back, it was so not easy. I can't do it, I was purged out my breakfast though. and the nurses got really mad, that was the time the nurses start to followed me every time I went to the bathroom. It was super sucks being followed! There is no privacy in my life in the ward. really..

On dinner, there's one nurse, her name was Saras, an Indian nurse. She accompany me to eat, I eat all of the food with tears on my face. Even though she said I looked so appetizing when I ate. She told me all about how the hospital's food was made, how it is not making me gaining weight (it is!) But that time I don't believe her, but still I finished eaten all of the dinner but.. only after few mins, I purged it back because of my overwhelming feeling guilty about the food I ate. But then.. the feeling of worthlessness and guilty came back again when the on call psychiatrist caught me purging. and she told the nurses about it, and the one that feeling upset was, of course, Nurse Saras, because she thought she already successfully made me eat, she even told the others that I finished and they congratulate me. That's the reason I felt more and more worthless and useless, hopeless, and just everything crash down, like I can't fucking even let me be "okay" for one moment. I just know how to fucked it up. I was crying myself to sleep that night. 

Day 3.
Boring day, It's a Public Holiday, because its Prophet's Birthday Celebration. No expert came, only a psychiatrist  to check in what I'm feeling today. Nothing really happened today, another war with my foods and the nurses, and I was being threat again to put on tube and iv drip. so I was trying harder this day to eat without purging. I met Nurse Ashiqin yesterday, and she was one of the nurses that try to persuade me to eat. But she is the most kindest and polite with me, others were polite as well, it just others were too 'fierce'. Nurse Ashiqin were sat beside me and talk to me and keep me feel comfortable. I like her. She was so nice and pretty and lovely and soft and everything beautiful.. She is beautiful. Okay, I don't know what I nonsense I am talking about. She told me about how life is supposed to be for me, how I should not end it because of my family matters, and how I should re-think bout my mother's feeling when she knows about this. My mother was sad about it, was mad, but in control of her feelings.That is why I love my mother so much, she never outbursts everything, she keep it under control. She is calm in the best way she can, she doesn't show much about how upset she was. But i know deep down she is crying and begging to God for my safety.

A psychiatrist, named Sathya, came in the evening to do some work, but she had time to check me in, I told her I can't feel anything, I felt numb. And she says, "sometimes it is better to not fell anything at all than have to deal with so many feelings, right?" "Take care, don't think too much okay." I burst into tears, even it's just a simple words.. yet it's true. Feeling numb is sometimes more 'okay'. 

Day 4.
I had a fever on this day and somewhat asthma, I can't sleep well. My body temperature was at 37.8°C but the nurses took it as 40°C. I had to have Paracetamol and my medication. I was changed into a tablet medication on day 2, actually.Because I told the expert that, my arm felt uneasy and lethargic. so they changed it into a Saphris, Asenapine sublingual tablet, where I should let it melt under my tongue. It felt bitter and hard to swallow the remain liquid.. I had to eat something else to cover the taste. But I started to eat well today, I cant eat all that I have to. I didn't purge it. But still the overwhelming guilty was there trying and trying to make me do it. I was not well so basically I just sleep all day. Lol

Day 5. 
I had a very uncomfortable night on this day. Because of my "asthma" kicks in. I can barely breathing right, I feel so much pain on my stomach and my throat. -- Rasa nak robek-robek je tekak aku masa tu. Even till today (7 December 2017) I still have problem with my throat. -- Memang rasa nak koyak je tekak ni weh.-- I can't sleep very well because of this, but I was so ready for the next day.. because.. it's a new week, and it's Monday, where all the experts and psychiatrist come to check all the patient's concern. 

On night, I had a little talks with the nurse Ashiqin and Kamariah. Nurse Kamariah sat on my bed and talked a lot of things about life. while I ate a medication called MMT for my bloated stomach because of gastritis. Nurse Kamariah is also one of my favorite person in the ward after, Nurse Ashiqin and Saras. Nurse Kamariah told me that "HIdup ni memang banyak sangat cabaran, kalau dengan satu cabaran alin dah tak kuat macam mana Tuhan nak nilai alin? Alin kena kuat, kena lawan suara-suara tu. Alin kuat tau cuma alin banyak terikut suara-suara tu punya arahan. Alin ken asedar mana antara suara yang alin betul atau tidak, even alin kata suara-suara tu macam kawan alin and alin tak boleh resist, Alin kena juga lawan sebab tengoklah diri alin sendiri, kurus sangat sampai nampak jelas tulang-tulang ni." (yes, I realized that I'm already dying being boney) --She even touched my backbones and my collarbones. She told me that, I need to fight for my ownself, my mother and my siblings. 

Day 6.
This is the day that I need to discharge. I want to get out from the ward so badly! because it was super bored in there. and today is the day where I can meet again my Psychiatrist, Dr. Ahmad and others, Dr. Nora, Dr Semran, Dr. Najib, Dr. Ayu, Dr. Arif etc. So many experts and Psychiatrist came to ask how my day was. I was confidently told him that I was fine! I was ecstatically happy that  the voices aren't there so often anymore, I could eat properly now, even so still there is the struggle with the body image and voices saying to not eat again etc. But I was fine this day. So they let me discharge and had an injection for slower the voices and had my Saphris as my medication at home and Lorazepam as my sleeping pills (they gave 4 tabs only considering that I will overdose over it). 

I was a bit sad to leave the ward but I am happy to be free as well! There's actually many bad things happens as well, that I choose not to write here because I don't to ruin my mood today. Bad things aren't suppose to be told right? We tell positive things, and we take the positive ones. I hope I could do well in recovery this time. Because I had so many relapses in recovery path before. 

And by the way, my psychiatrist want me to the Electroconvulsive Theraphy (ECT) for my Major Depressive Disorder with Psychosis. I don't know about it yet, I will write the experience here if I go for it. 

Thank you so much for those that pray for my safety, my blessing, while I'm stuck in ward. Thank you for not giving up on me yet, thank you for supporting me, for keep staying for me. I will try harder this time. Even I know, I already said this, I will try again. Trying has no ends. Stay safe & stay alive! xx

wiltedrose.s xx

A Path Into My Disorder

It is not warm or welcoming. It’s cold and uninviting, yet so many people live there. Someone is always talking and whispering, even sometimes screaming.

I’m going to take you through my messy, little mind in hopes you will better understand mental illness. Many people believe it is because we don’t eat right, sleep well or exercise enough. Even more people feel like we do this to ourselves. And the most hurtful is people think that people with invisible illnesses are lack of faith to their God. Saying “you are not praying enough,” “you are not close to God,” “Just pray more and focus on your religion,”. I know, and I believe that most of people with invisible illness didnt asked for this pain. Yet, trying as harder as we can to recover, but sometimes there are few time relapse can happens as well, there is no recovery progression if there is no relapse or breakdown. We breakdown, we need support and be there as we save ourselves.

And nowadays more frequently in the media, I see people romanticizing mental illness and I won’t stand for that. If you think mental illness is tragically beautiful,” then I think you should look again. Mental illnesses isn't something that people should be playing around saying like it is some kind of cool stuff” or a “trend”. So here we goes into the mind of my disorder.. 

There are many people living in my head. There is the manipulator, the angry one, the little girl, the shell, the void and the invincible. Here’s a more in-depth explanation of each:

The manipulator used to make her way out often;

“Hmm, my psychiatrist and psychologist hasn’t shown much interest lately. Why don’t we pretend to be worse than I am?”, or this, My friend doesn’t seem to have made me as priority. Are they hating me? Am I did something wrong?”, and this, The psychiatrist doesn’t seem to think I’m sick enough to be here. Maybe I should hurts myself more or maybe try to attempt a suicide.” This sick person takes over my body and I sit back and watch as she ruins my life.

The angry teenager rages against all that she feels she hasn’t deserved, angry she is always the one to be yelled at and the one to be blamed;

“If my parents didnt get to divorced, maybe I can have a happy family like others? Why am I the only one should feel guilty about all of this stupid family thing? Why is my mother has to be mad at me about her relationship with my father?” “If it is not my fault, then why are people keep on ignoring me as Im the only one that is a burden?” Her abusive and neglectful childhood was so inconsistent, her sense of balance is forever warped. She is constantly mad at everyone for making her who she is. 

The little girl, always feels the need to be held;
“Just hold me. Please, make me feel safe. Nothing is OK. I’m not OK. Please, help me. Please, I’m scared.” This little girl inside of me is always crying because she doesn’t feel safe, always wanting to run but never knowing where to run to, constantly in fear of being yelled at, being locked in the dark, being abandoned, being forgotten and left to fight the monsters by herself. 

Now, there’s also this shell of a person. It’s not real. It doesn’t think I’m real. It doesn’t think any of this is real. When its in control, looking in the mirror is harder than ever. All I see is this ghost with no connection in her eyes. I’m just a shadow.

“None of this is real. Everything is OK because none of this is happening. You aren’t real. You aren’t real. You aren’t real. You don’t exist. You do not exist. You do not exist.” Over and over, like a broken record, there’s no way to stop it. My insides are hollow, no feeling, no flicker of life.

Then there’s the void; it’s what happens when nobody is in control, yet I still can’t grab the reigns myself. It’s the depression at its worst. It’s existing and being nothing, meaning nothing matters in the least. Nobody hates you. Nobody loves you. You’re just floating in this deep sea of loneliness and all you want to do is sleep your days away. You can’t even muster up the emotion to be angry or afraid of anything. You are just a meaningless existence.

Often, I can put up a facade to cover whichever person is running my body. They still have their outbursts, the moments when I loose all control and have to watch the disaster ensue.

Imagine having this thought on a daily basis: Who am I?

I don’t mean it in some round-about philosophical way. I mean literally. Imagine not knowing who you really are. There’s a point in each day of my life that this strange question intrudes my thoughts. I am so many different things. I shift so many times in a day to keep up with the different people who surround me I don’t know which “version” is the real me. 

See, this is one aspect of borderline personality disorder which is often missed. Like most things, not every one with the condition will experience this. Yet, for me, it is one of my biggest and often, most unbearable symptoms. 

Sometimes it feels strange to me there are people out there who haven’t thought seriously of suicide or don’t understand why people self-harm. Not a week goes by where I don’t seriously consider suicide at least once and not a day goes by where I don’t have to talk myself out of self-harm. 

Every day, I seriously consider self-harm. Every single day, I have to tell myself needing stitches will not solve my problems, but it isn’t only physical self-harm. Sometimes just putting myself in dangerous situations fulfills the self-destructive need. I sometimes put myself with someone I shouldn’t be, just so I can feel terrible about myself because I feel like I deserve it. There is always a part of me trying to ruin my relationships. I think things like, “I’m sure I don’t deserve them and I’m sure they’re going to just pick up and stop talking to me again so I better finish this my way!” I’ve managed to sabotage most of my relationships because of my actions, based on the rampage of countering thoughts running through my mind.  

“Well I hate them. I’m never going to talk to them again.”

“No, no, no I need them. I hope they don’t hate me.”
“Oh screw them, this is their fault.”
“Oh God, I hate myself for all this. I hope they don’t hate me too!” 

It’s a roller coaster I want to get off of, and even worse, sometimes the people in my head decide to fight. It’s not just a mild disagreement. Oh no, a full on screaming match and it’s all I can do to keep from losing my mind. Sometimes the voices get so loud, I can’t stand it. I have entire episodes of screaming at my mind to quiet down. It’s so intense and painful I feel like my brain is about to implode on itself.

The worst part, though? It has to be the fact that I’ve created so many different “versions” of me that I can no longer identify what I’m actually like as a person. I don’t know my own personality. I struggle to find my own interests. Sometimes, I don’t even know what I dislike because everything changes depending on who I’m with. Does that make me fake?

No, because it’s OK to take some time to find yourself. When you eventually do, it’s OK if not everyone likes you. I’m still trying to get the hang of that concept myself, but one day, I hope I will confidently be able to say, “I am me,” and that will be just enough. When you see me or other people having some hard time, maybe its just hard to get out of the bed, maybe its just worrying to much, don’t criticize or say we are not trying to get better because you don’t know what we are all going through because e
veryone fights a different battle. Don’t judge someone’s battle just because it isn’t the same as yours.

wiltedrose.s xx

I have to be Okay

It's dark and lonely.
It's empty and suffocated.

How did I end up here, feeling so chaotic and so restless. 
I realized I can’t articulate my thoughts anymore. It’s killing the people around me and killing myself even more. 

Somehow, I feel like I don't know how to go on anymore. 
I forget everything I know, I'm contemplating to do anything destructive and I realized that I'm out of control.

I tried to make people notice how hurt I am, but it seem everyone turn their back and ignore.
I realized that everyone deals with a little pain, so who am I say I'm not okay? 

I'm always trying to talk to my friends and I'm supposed to be a good friend,
but I realized that I'm so easily replaceable for some reason.

It gets harder to talk about it, when people ask "why". 
But I think it gets easier to hold it up for myself, to shut up louder, to pretend that I don't want you when all I want is to give in, to hold back the tears and release them once I get into my own bed.

But I think it gets easier to pretend its just a phase, to pretend I want to exist.
I said so many times, "I want to exist, I want to exist."
until I believe it. 

But then the darkness crawling up into my face saying it out loud; 
"You are nothing" 
"You are a troublesome" 
"You are useless" 
"You are not exist"

and then I think it will getting easier again if I called myself crazy and an arsenic as an excuse for feeling, as if I'm not allowed to feel anything, as if this pressure build-up in my head is nothing but unequal brain chemistry as everyone can brush off my emotions.

and then the sadness, the darkness goes deeper inside me, making me apologizing all the time. I suspect that I'm offending everyone even strangers with my behavior or my attitude, my words or even my silences. I say sorry to make sure that I am not hurting anyone, as if its okay if I'm hurting alone. 

and then I feel like I am far away from people, that people start to run away when I tried to talk. I know, I may used the wrong words to ventilate my real emotions, that I make people go away and felt offended. I am trying to use word to let out my inner feelings as I don't know how other than harming myself.

they said, "I will be there" but all I get is nobody wants to be there for the girl who is always sad. 

I realized that people start to get annoyed by my rant, my 'always sad' feelings, so I try to shut up until I can't where I will be so dangerous and I know I can't ventilate my feelings to people so, I vent to my body. It says red all the time but I feel the release of pain that I've been holding on and its dying.

Why I have all these freaky and crappy thoughts about things that I shouldn't think about,
feels like everyone is leaving me, people starting to hate me, that they are better off without me.
All the darkness that I have consumes inside my soul and make me feels like dying and suffering.

It's so suffocated.
To feel everything and nothing at once. 
This feelings is so unexplainable that I can feel my chest is so heavy, like there's some big building that I'm carry on my chest.

But then, I know I have to be okay, and not burdening people with all my silly feeling of sadness, madness, and darkness. 
and I repeating the words, "I have to be okay" 

wiltedrose.s xx