23 OF 30 DAYS (3 min audio read on Medium @FLO Mystic)

I didn’t want to kill myself.

That was enough hope for me to know that I was going to be okay. Yet, each moment of everyday wasn’t easy to say the least. I couldn’t get up and off the bed. I was sleeping and falling asleep and could stay asleep. I valued sleep enough that I only perceived it as good for me. I was oblivious that sleeping too much could also be a sign of moderate depression.

I was just glad that I didn’t want to die.

I was a depressed teenager but nobody knew that. Not my immediate family nor friends. I didn’t know that. I migrated from the Philippines and I thought sadness was normal. Although I did question how long will I be sad? And why was I so sad and wanted to kill myself at the time? I was afraid. I feared being alone. I feared dying.

Twenty-five years ago I saw depression as destructive. It is something I have to get rid of. Suppression was the way I knew how. Being sad isn’t normal anymore. I can die. I did not know how to tell anyone. I did not know how to seek for help. It seems killing myself is the simplest quickest solution to the struggle I was experiencing. My antidote was that I was afraid to die.

A year ago I found myself yet again in depression. With depression. I felt so ashamed. I felt confused that I thought I knew all kinds of modalities to heal myself. Proud that I am the most Self-aware person I know. But I couldn’t avoid depression. I could not move in the darkness of myself. And in the midst of fear, love. Love for myself in the moment. Love of myself with depression.

I did not force myself anymore to get out of bed, to get off bed. Let alone manage to motivate myself to brush my teeth, wash my face at least then go on with the day. So I held space. I allowed, I witnessed without judgment, just simply awareness. Supporting every bit of me emotionally. I did not encourage myself. I did not motivate myself. I saw myself deeply.

I am here.

Not there, not nowhere, not anywhere else, but simply here with myself.

I was able to seek help this time. I was willing to be seen in my weakness, as vulnerable as I was and am. Frustrating process but for the first time began to seek professional help. I started with 2 therapist a male and a female. I now am only seeing my female therapist who specialize in Highly Sensitive Person. I’ve been seeing her in therapy session for over a year.

What motivated me to walk on the same path with a different outlook?

First of, dopamine is a chemical responsible for motivation, movement, and reward. Released in the anticipation of a reward. I could not perceive not envision that getting up and off my bed is rewarding. Nor did I see that brushing my teeth will support a healthy teeth which is something I value.

But loving myself was my pursuit. Even slow dosage and release of dopamine in my brain that felt rewarding. To see me fully naked, weak, vulnerable and unashamed, that was a fragment of pleasure.

I was motivated to pursue me. I did not realize that at the time until now. Sitting here, writing, I’m pursuing me in love, with love, for love.

I don’t know if I won’t ever experience depression. Grief has its subtle ways to usher it in on a silver plater. If I do, I’ll be okay. I’m not afraid anymore. I can’t promise myself it will be easier and will not be tough and dark. But I can promise myself that no matter what, I am right here for me.