TRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal thoughts and attempted suicide. Please do not read further if you find these uncomfortable.
Today was a horrible day. I just got back from the emergency department of the hospital where I have consultations with my psychiatrist. I was having suicidal thoughts since Saturday, and I’ve been having strong urges today, to the point that whenever I see a knife at home, I am sorely tempted to hide it and cut myself when no one’s looking. It was a horrible feeling.
I told my mom about this and she asked me what brought it on, and I mentioned my new job and how much I am struggling with keeping up with it, despite the fact that I just started last Thursday and am still in the middle of the training period. I told her that already, the lessons are proving too difficult for me to handle. What made the situation more frustrating was the fact that I’ve been wanting to get this job for the longest time. I expected that it would be easy for me because I was ready and willing, but my expectations were not met. When I got the call saying I got the job, all I could feel was dread instead of excitement. That was proof enough that I wasn’t ready, but I still emailed them saying I would be glad to work for the company, thus sealing my fate.
Turns out it wasn’t meant to be, because here I am, planning to quit the job by Thursday, two days from today. I just need the medical certificate so that I have proof that I am incapable of working just yet. I don’t want to worry about how my boss will react; I just need to get out as gracefully as I can.
Today was a shit show; I spent the rest of the day crying my eyes out to two psychiatrists to make them understand what I was going through. I found the whole experience embarrassing, to be quite honest, but I had to be honest in communicating my feelings so that I can successfully seek help.
Sure, today was not the best day, but if there’s one thing I learned from the experience, it’s this: I’m fucking mentally ill. I’m not okay. I’ve been pretending that everything is fine even when it’s not, that my illness does not affect my life, but that’s obviously not the case. It feels like my illness is this wound that I recently acquired and instead of letting it heal, I keep exposing it, so it gets worse and worse. I have to let it heal, to let it be so that eventually, I can learn to live with it and manage it. To be impatient and live with animosity with it is not the way to go; I have to acknowledge its existence and learn to live alongside it.
One day I’ll be fine. One day I’ll learn to live with my mental illness, that’s for sure. But today’s not that day, and that’s all right. And despite the horrible day, I’m still proud of myself. I survived, and that’s pretty darn awesome.