WARNING *super long post this time again* 😅 *這次的帖子超級長*
For this post, I wanna say I better don’t bring owls to Athens, as this idiom tries to say literally, about two incidents that happened just a few days ago. Well, I thought I was so all right yesterday, so I even went for a walk with families at Tai Mei Tuk, but I kinda lost control for a bit too later in the day, and resorted to hiding in the boot of my Daddy’s car to feel secure.
Today I am normal again; this clinical depression which turns me on and off randomly really just makes me so fu*ked up. Even though I had already got rid of many of my phobia, the noise of a neighbour chopping pork mince on her board to make pork cakes, and somewhere the repairing work like drilling noise still stay with me. At home, I had to run to Dad for a hug while the noise of pork cake chopping was going on, and got Mum to sit beside me whilst drilling work was taking place. These 2 kinds of noises really annoy and frighten me, making my heart bounce like a basketball.
今天我又正常了；這個隨機開關我的抑鬱症真的把我玩弄得士多啤梨蘋果橙。 雖然我已經擺脫了好多恐懼症， 但那鄰居在砧板上打碎豬肉餅， 和不知由哪傳來的裝修的那電鑽動的聲音，仍然好困擾我。在家，我就立刻跑去找爸爸去擁抱一下我，在有電鑽動的聲音的時候就叫媽媽坐到我旁邊。這兩種聲音令我好煩躁和害怕，我的心臟像是籃球在跳動。
Back to business. Firstly, it is putting pressure on the others when you are in fact trying to please them ; in another words, I want to please people around me so much that just like in the song ‘Get it right’ by Glee, ‘what can you do, when your good isn’t good enough.. all of my best intentions keep making a mess of things, I just wanna fix it somehow’.
回到主題。首先，雖是為了討好別人，卻使別人有壓力；換句話說，我想討好身邊的人就像 Glee 的那首歌 ‘Get it right’，用中文去寫，就是要唱「落力為你好，得不到分數」，那方力申和鄧麗欣的「好心好報」。
Secondly, I should not have lost my self-control and to have put
myself temporarily into the Accidental & Emergency (A&E) department at hospital. Basically, l really had a very tough time over this past week. I wish I can just now travel for a long trip and scream in places like Latvia Riga where people don’t bother Youtube me, unlike Hongkongers. I put up how Riga looks like when I was there in this post.
Over the past week, I have been attending some extra-curricular classes just to chill out. For confidentiality reason, I am going to narrate the following incidents, using fake names and objects. The point I try to make and the storyline 100% true. I will explain why I need to force myself to learn that sometimes, I just should give up on pleasing those I care deeply in the light of my own view, but to put myself into their shoes to please them. Yet, I am not them, how do I put myself into their shoes?
So this is the first true incident. I have a friend, let’s name her Lindy. Lindy asked me to buy her chicken McNuggets from McDonalds. Due to my depression, Lindy is one of those people who have been and is still caring for me the most compared to the others. I also love her dearly and want to return her a big favour, and so I decided that I will always try to please and satisfy her more than what I would usually do; I think that I owe her a lot. So instead of McNuggets, I decided to buy Angus steak from a 5-star restaurant for Lindy.
However, I have annoyed Lindy when I showed Angus steak instead of McNuggets before her eyes. I asked why, and she said I was being bossy and said that she specifically demanded McNuggets, so why the heck I decided that I should buy her Angus steak instead. Then I thought, even 9/10 people would agree that Angus steak is more yum, tastier, but I need to respect others’ own personal will. On top of that, buying her Angus steak of a higher value, this is to put her on pressure. I suddenly felt like I was so wrong to have not given her what she truly wanted. In less than one second, my tears were running down my face. Unconsciously, I tried to force the others to love me, by making them to like or to dislike things according to me, like I am the dictator. I told my psychiatrist about this and he said I was simply demonstrating a clear example that what I did on Lindy, was just a typical act out of my perfectionist trait. But isn’t all that I was trying to do, was to do good on Lindy? So I am the wrongdoer again? My head felt heavy. Since the diagnosis of my clinical depression in U.K. then in Hong Kong, maybe I try so hard to put extra pressure and burden on those who cared for me, which in my terms, I feel that I was just to put in extra efforts to please them. This is just because I really want to return them the favour.
Feeling guilty, longing for appreciation and gratitude, fear for showing my gratitude, hatred against myself, this mix of emotions all attacked me on that same night of the first incident. I did not scream but sat quietly on home’s sofa, and I turned to apologising to my parents for having me without a choice ‘cos I am already born, besides apologising to Lindy. I asked why God created me in the first place. Why wasn’t I in hell yet, and I won’t be good enough for entering heaven anyways. Mummy said I should stop crying, I took some meds for going to bed.
‘My tears have been my food day and night’, I recalled this verse. I wished I wouldn’t get to see day light anymore when I next open my eyes. My aunt always complains each year in the summer about the heat, the hot weather, so maybe, just maybe, by the time I would be next awaken, no more sunlight but hell. I love sleeping on the sofa than the bed and I am still doing so, so I can feel brighter sunlight shines on me when it is about time that I wake. Sofa means light, and I wanted light, and yet, like how I had wished whilst I was in London last year, hoped that by crying myself to bed, I would have fainted and no more getting awaken naturally again. So I cried myself to bed. It is now time to say don’t bring owls to Athens; I should not have made that effort to please the others so much.
I think about how a depression patient’s ultimate action is to kill herself, then those loved ones have to cheat themselves so true-heartedly that suicide is just a tragic event, so the one who died could only be in heaven but not hell. Then I repeated this again and again to feel better for both the deceased person and myself in my heart; I was planning something ahead. After donating each material and body part of mine, I need to have nice make-up on my corpse when I would be at that imaginary funeral, with a stem of pink flower lying right next to my corpse.
The second incident was when I began to find out my temper going grumpy and somehow aggressive, that I always wanted to tell people off and had to resisted myself from slamming stuff into their faces. I tried to keep myself in control, or you can say to distract myself from thinking about my depression. I constructed myself a timetable with classes and meet-ups with friends and close families. I am not ready for proper studies and work still according to my psychiatrist。
Then it was a weekend, me and Lindy were having an argument. I felt like I could not talk to Lindy anymore, nor my parents, and I thought, I would call these two lines to see what those peeps there would say to me; so I called ‘Hong Kong Samaritans Befriends’ and ‘Suicide Prevention Services’, two charities which are supposed to answer their phones 24/7, to those who wanna kill themselves. No one picked up the phone for the latter, and eventually a woman who sounds like she is of middle-age talked to me from the former. I asked her just this one question: what would your response be, when someone called this hotline, and asked you why shouldn’t it be OK for her to kill herself? This volunteer just kept trying to dig into my personal details, eventually saying if I still refused to tell her about myself, she would not be able to help me. Already in agony, I said, I might ring back, if later on I still live on this world, and we said bye to each other, and I told her that I would later on complain about her to the organisation. Of course, she didn’t give a damn about me, no one rang back.
Hopeless me dialled 999, telling the lady on the line that I am a depression patient, and I only wanted 1 police to escort me to the mental hospital to see a psychiatrist and that’s all I want, telling her my ID card number and address. I reinforced that I would only harm myself but not others, Lindy who was next to me trying to stop me from talking to the lady on 999 but she failed. Of course that argument between me and Lindy ended right at the moment when I first dialled those charity hotlines.
So 5 mins later, a policeman asked me and Lindy to get on an ambulance, where there were also the driver and another 2 rescue workers. I told them, well I have legs, hands, I can walk and move and even jump up and down, I just want a ride to the mental hospital. I was ignored, got forced to check my blood pressure. The ambulance was moving, I asked the rescue worker what is not allowed to be done on an ambulance, he said that would be eating. Then I asked if telephoning was allowed or not, with his consent, I called my friend who is one of my closest Christian friends. Let’s call her Alice. I said to Alice that I was forced onto an ambulance to the designated hospital rather than getting what I wanted, and I told Alice that since she is the closest Christian human being to me, she would have to make sure that she would tell my parents to play this certain Cantonese hymn on my funeral. It is called ‘what kind of logic is this’ if translated into English.
Arrived at the hospital, for another two times, I repeated my requests, staff there ignored me and just checked my blood pressure for two more times, asked me to pay 100 HKD. Then I was locked up in a room, where I would love to call it the best art exhibition I ever saw. With people writing, a bit like graffiti all over the room’s walls, with words or drawings about death, I got to know with less than one second what this room was for, and I decided to take pictures of it.
This is more than a haunted room where I was about to go mad at having some kind of claustrophobia. I was properly locked up inside, sitting on a sofa, and even there was a bell for me to press to call for someone, no one came to open the door. I have put up in this post how the room looks like, and what people wrote inside it.
A while later, a doctor who worked for the A&E asked me the typical ‘what can I do for you Miss’ question, and this time, counting from the ambulance, for the fourth time, I gave the same answer. Luckily then Alice appeared, the hospital staff let me and her to get locked up in the room together. With Alice by my side, we started chatting, and she has a very chilled attitude in general. I started writing many hymn lyrics, asking where is my God, then me and Alice starting humming some hymns.
As I demanded that without a single room I would not stay at hospital over-night, plus my parents and Lindy nagging on the doctor to release me, I signed a consent slip and went home. It was Saturday night and close to midnight, and the fact that no psychiatrist could appear in front of me, let me say again, don’t bring owls to Athens please, as in to get some of those ambulance men to get me all the way to the hospital, although they were just doing their duty work.
因為我說，沒獨立病房我就不會在醫院留醫過夜，加上父母和 Lindy 都勸醫生放我，我簽了同意書離院。那是星期六晚上，快零晨，沒有精神科醫生出現過在我面前，我又可以說，多此一舉有救護車人員們送我去醫院。當然，這是他們做份內工作。
The next day I woke up, I only felt like doing this one thing, to go to karaoke, then I called up a friend who lived in my neighbouring town to go, and I seemed to be back to normal again. I attended my extra-curricular class as usual even. Around 9pm, I was making a visit to aunt’s place in the evening who lives just the block next to me. Yet feeling drowsy, while I wanted to hug and play with her granddaughter Yannis (the one I used to babysit, please check my old posts), as I was so lacking strength, I dropped her and she started crying, and I started crying too. I began to apologise to everyone for the fact that I existed, and I even harmed a 3 year-old kid.
Yannis stopped crying very soon, and even handed me a tissue for me to wipe my tears. Yet, I could not control myself, kept apologising to everyone in the flat and asked where is God. My cousin who was so sentimental ended up crying with me, and the rest was like a radio announcement, kept saying to me that everything is Ok. Yet, I don’t feel Ok. Maybe close to midnight, I had no more tears, and asking repetitively did I affect the intelligence development of the baby by having dropped her with head touching the floor first, then with people around me answering me no for maybe 1 million times, I eventually could calm down. That night, I thought of those physically ill peeps lying in hospital, yearning for a healthy life, or for some organs; basically a proper right to live healthily. I thought, all right, not only those who wanted materials that I had which they did not have could take those materials away from me, they may also take each part of my body, and my right to life, if there is a way to transfer all these things, and then wait for God’s punishment. So in tears, I filled up and submitted the organs donation form on the government website. A lady rang me and said thanks for my kindness, whilst I was planning my suicide in my heart but I said thanks to her out of manner.
Although today I understand that by hiding in dark, confined place to feel secure was due to the biology that this resembles getting the protection in a mother’s womb (if this is proven wrong, tell me and I will correct my psychiatrist LOL), I don’t know why, I feel that I owe my parents and Lindy the most, who are like the primary carers for my depression, and am always drowned by guilt; I only know kneeling in front of them and bowed my head, in a repetitive motion. Only by doing so, this eases my guilt. I had requested them to beat me up so that I could be properly punished for all my irrational words, behaviour and anything else relating to my personality and depression but they still refused to do so till today.
I remember in the past, especially while I live in France, each time I drank some alcohol to calm myself down, or to be able to sit down properly to do my work, or to fall asleep. Now as a patient on medication, I am upset by the fact that now I need to stay away from alcohol to get sedated, so I feel like at the least put up an old picture of me and friends drinking in the end of this post. I cannot explain how frustrated it is that I am still sick today while I have done all these things ordered by my psychiatrist:
- see him once per week to chat through things
- on medication so avoid alcohol and taking all medicines prescribed on time
- exercising 4 times a week
- go out to get fresh air – I always hike with my Daddy
- do something to make myself happy – I regularly hang out with Alice and Lindy, I watch TV drama that I like, I do religious reading as a believer to try to make myself feel peaceful and I pray.
- 做令自己快樂的事—我定期會約 Alice 和 Lindy 出外逛逛，我看我喜歡的電視劇，因有信仰我看宗教書籍去讓自己感到安寧和祈禱
I guess at at least exercising dose play some role to help clinical depression, and now the psychiatrist said my clinical depression has developed to a stage named ‘manic-depressive disorder’; no idea what the heck is this but I still call it depression anyways. Anyways, there is this one day where after dancing loads at video arcades and then having a proper dance class, I felt at ease and in good mood for the entire day.
Let me say thank you to my parents and Lindy and Alice (fake names) here to mark the ending of this post. Thank you, I mean it. I will work hard on stop being suicidal.
去結束這帖子，讓我對父母，Lindy 和 Alice（假名）在這說，謝謝，我是真心的想說謝謝。我會用心去不叫自己自殺的。