Flowing Thoughts

Do you ever feel like there’s something wrong?

You feel something’s about to happen. Something horrible. Something that will destroy your body and mind. But you’re not quite sure what will cause that catastrophe you feel approaching. It’s just… there. The feeling of imminent threat. Disaster. The fear of pain.

I’ve always been like this. There was a time I used to deal with it by thinking “I’m not afraid of pain. Bring it on”.


I’m terrified.

And to be perfectly honest, what I’m even more afraid of is the hard shell that used to be my defense. I was protected. I was fearless. I was reckless. I didn’t care what happened, the world sucked anyways. I felt powerful. It was amazing.
Too bad if I actually tried doing something cool I would have failed miserably. The only way I was able to do something kinda worthy was if I stopped thinking, let the adrenaline take over, lost any contact with my emotions and successfully ignored physical pain. If I wore my shell. All of that was easy, except my thoughts would never leave me alone, cracking my shell in various places, in various angles. Some cracks were longer and deeper, some resembled just a scratch. And not just thoughts. My mind kept observing and analysing every single facet of the world. That was truly numbing, exhausting.


Fast forward to better days. I’m fit, got a six pack, I’m better at school (finally started studying to achieve a goal, woop!), I have friends who like me, my situation at home gets better. I don’t have to analyse everything around me. I can stop being overly careful. I don’t care about the bullies or the idiotic guys who call me ugly, thinking a pretty girl is worth everything. I am superior because I am down to earth, unlike the stuck ups I’m surrounded by. And now I can finally enjoy the last of my teenage years, before I leave the country I lived in for 18 years to move on with my life in a new land.
That’s what my mind was before I started my life anew. What happened once I got there is a story for another time.
Because I didn’t need to hard steel shell to protect myself anymore I could finally be open, be strong in my vulnerability. One of the things I used to say was “What’s wrong with talking about my problem with obesity? I might have been obese but look at me now. I’m fit. I’m proud”. Oh, it felt so good. It felt so fucking good. Specially when the girls looked at me with eyes that clearly said “She’s awesome”. Yes, yes you can rely on me, I’ll take care of you, I’ll guide you because of course I know how to play life. I’m awesome, I’m perfect. I know exactly what to do in any given scenario and how to do it. Unless, of course, I’m lost. Lost and in denial. Grasping for any tiny little bit of attention I could get. Don’t get me wrong now. At that point I didn’t want the kind of attention where people said “She’s cool”. I wanted the one where people finally acknowledged that yes, that girl can have problems as well. Just because she’s not acting out doesn’t mean she’s not dealing with panic attacks any time she has to go out in public. Buy food. Meet people. Be friends with childhood friends. That girl has Depression as well. And many times she spent entire nights imagining her own death.

But I was cool. I could deal with it. I was used to it.


The decisive point in my life when everything started going downhill was when I decided to feel pain. To accept it and stop pretending. To let myself drown in pain, acknowledge it before anyone else came to “save” me. I didn’t want a saviour. That’s stupid. Even now I want to “save” myself. God, even now the word “save” sounds dumb as fuck.
And so I let myself get hit. Hard. It was as if someone had cut my brain and many little pieces and was in the process of marinating them in salt. Stabbing it continuously, just turning the pink mass into… something resembling porridge.
And then, I was truly vulnerable.
My housemate hanged herself.
It was all my fault.
Fast forward to the nearer future. No one realized how it must have felt holding her body, not being able to process what was happening. Heck, no one even thought “Mmm, I think she might have seen her housemate dying”. But I need to stop blaming others. It’s no one’s fault. And that’s the worst part of all this: It’s no one’s fault. Not even your own.

So, going back to what I said in the beginning. Do you ever feel like there’s something wrong?
Even if now everything is fine, you never know what might happen. There’s a constant feeling of dread, even when you’re happy. I was invited to go out to the beach today and gosh I was feeling awful and happy the whole time. The seawater was warm, my friend’s mother offered my drinks, crisps and corn. But I was so scared… scared of meeting my friend from 9 years ago, her nice mother and cool sister. And I know, I know I will keep thinking about all the little things I did that might have looked dumb or rude. Just like last night’s party with, again, my group of friends from 9 years ago ’till this day. I keep thinking of everything I said that might have looked stupid or rude or… any bad adjective, really. I can’t stop thinking of what other might have thought in my bad moments. Almost as if I don’t deserve to be friends with such nice people.
See? It’s not even as if something horrific that might change the planet is about to happen. No. It’s just my Anxiety made worse by my Depression. And it would be so damn easy if only I had my shell back. I would be so “fine”. I could get over anything and not give a fuck. But I’m scared of my shell too. Because there was a period of time I was great without it. I didn’t have any reason to be scared that someone would start hitting my shell, hurting me while breaking it open.

Thank you for reading,


Self Love – 01

Look at the colourless sky.
Listen to the silence.

Today’s the perfect day to die.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything. But this just goes to show how my life is a dramatic roller coaster stuck in a never ending loop.
I wonder if I was ever ok. Is there always something bothering me about the good memories?

That one time I was dancing and eating and laughing and talking to new people. Was I uncomfortable? Did I make a fool of myself?

That other time I met so many different animals. Did I bother my friend by taking too many pictures?

That time I went hiking and climbing on a mountain. Did I bother my friend by being a burden?

Why would anyone miss me? Are they being hypocrites?

“Normally”, if I still know what is normal to me, I would just accept these thoughts and “whatever” them. But I can’t now – I wish I was never born. I wouldn’t have to think. Wouldn’t have to move. Wouldn’t have to look. Wouldn’t have to breathe.

A poster I have in my room. The artist’s name is written on it, but I can’t read it. If anyone knows who they are please let me know.


The next part of this post was written several days later

So, today, I finally took my first antidepressant. It’s called Sertraline, my doctor prescribed it two months ago and only today I managed to take 25mg. Not even 50mg, which is the minimum dose she initially prescribed. I took the dose a 6 year old would take. That’s how scared I am.
(To know more about why I’m scared, check my previous blog post “Clearing my mind – 01“)

Yesterday I talked with my housemates about it. I told them that I decided I will start taking the antidepressant, something of which they weren’t even aware, and might become a burden for them. I don’t want to, but I’m not sure what the side effects might be in my specific case. I might react well, I might react horribly. This uncertainty is driving me crazy.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. You took the dose of a 6 year old.”

I feel bad for my housemate who probably didn’t even have a clue of my mental instability. The other two knew, or at least could tell something was wrong with me, but she didn’t. Obviously, I’m always acting hyper and happy. And determined. And strong. And I suddenly come out with “I’m going to take antidepressants”.
She asked me “Why?”. I wasn’t sure what to reply. Unlike with my other two housemates (let’s call them…Lara and Jess) she had no clue. I’m afraid how this might have affected her (Melanie). Or maybe I’m just being too dramatic. Maybe she’s cool with it. When I said “I don’t want to be a burden” she replied “I’m sure you’ll be fine. You took the dose of a 6 year old.”. But her face expression wasn’t smiling. It wasn’t carefree. She was frowning a little bit. I’m scared. And I’m sorry.

I think I got the final push I needed when I met my Wellbeing Adviser by chance. I had missed my counselling appointment again, as already had three times, because I got days mixed up. He saw me and since he had some free time he offered to listen to me instead. That was really nice, it was awesome. I felt bad for being a nuisance, as I always do, but it made me feel taken care of.
Anyways, we talked about many things since I’m always jumping from one topic to the other, desperately trying to take my barriers down. One of the things we talked about was the antidepressants, and just one thing he said made me feel more secure and calmer: “Ask yourself, what is the kindest thing you can do to yourself? Ask that question, and deep down you already know the answer”. Well, he was right. After all these years of Depression and Anxiety it doesn’t matter how scared I am of antidepressants, it really is the best way for me to take care of myself at this time. The best way to love myself, in a way. Though it did take me some time to do it. As I said, today was the first day. I only had 25mg, half a tablet, a 6 year old’s dose. Two months after my doctor prescribed them.


I know not to expect this eternal emotional roller coaster to be over any time soon. I know not to expect miracles. But it’s a step.


Now, the next thing to think of is… what will I do after I go back home? Even if it’s just for a couple of weeks, I know my parents won’t let me have  the antidepressants. They will try stop me. I could hide them somehow, but then I won’t have a doctor regularly checking on me. I will probably have to stop taking them before I move back. Or before they come visit me for my graduation.  I’ll have to set a meeting with my doctor and talk to her about it.

Now that I mentioned my graduation, it’s better if I go back to work. I have to pass… at least.
I’ll keep you updated on the Sertraline progress!

Thank you for reading,






Clearing my mind – 01

Hey dear reader!

It’s been a while since I created this blog. I only posted once, but ever since I did I’ve been thinking that I’d like to write another post. There are many reasons why I haven’t until now. I’ve been working from 8am to 8pm and when I’m home, I fall asleep right away. If I’m not sleeping, I’m trying to be sociable and eat something that’s not a sandwich from the University’s 24/7 shop. And last but not least, I didn’t want to get overwhelmed. Every day I wanted to write about what happened, what I was feeling, but I know from experience if I did that I’d end up feeling worse, more frustrated, because my thoughts would be running faster than my typing and my emotions would end up crushing me. I wanted to let some time pass before I wrote anything again.
Not that I have a clearer mind right now, but I felt like I needed this blog. I’ve been thinking about some things lately, so maybe if I put them down in a list that would help me organize my mind.

  • My studying friend, I’m going to call her Clarice (by the way, just so you know, I will come up with the most random names to talk about people I know in real life), told me about the safe place she goes to in her mind when she’s feeling too anxious or unsafe (it’s a cozy cottage on the edge of cliff during a stormy night, with the warm fire burning in the chimney while she’s reading or being creative). When we were going back to our lab, she said how sometimes that place is filled with people that represent different positive qualities: her mother is nurturing, her father protective, a friend is kindness… and apparently I am perseverance. She had been thinking about it since the previous day, when she was “dumping all ‘her’ problems on God” and thought I didn’t have anyone like that. I didn’t have a God or a family member or a friend that is to me like God is to her. But I still keep trying no matter what.
    I was happy when she told me, but that happiness didn’t last too long. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really grateful for what she said and how she sees me. I miss the times when I was able to move on and get strength from this kind of compliments. It was so easy. Now I just don’t feel anything. It reminds me of when I went back home for holidays. My father now sleeps in my bed and I sleep with my mother, and during one sleepless night I realised how long it had been since I last fell asleep while hugging my mother. So I did, I got into my fetal position and hugged her, expecting to suddenly miraculously feel calm and safe and warm, like everything was alright and I was strong enough to do anything I wanted in the world.
    I didn’t. And immediately I started thinking of all the reasons why I wasn’t feeling anything. Was it because I hadn’t been able to feel anything in a long time? Was it because me and my mother don’t really have a great relationship? Did that really effect her ability as mother to make me feel better with just a hug? I suddenly felt very lonely. Her hug (or more me forcing a hug on her) was the one thing I knew I could go back to if everything came crushing down on me. Now, even that was gone. And I was suffocating buried by the rubble of what once used to be the only certainty I had.
  • I’ve been really fidgety lately. When  I’m reading something online, I keep left clicking with my mouse, highlighting and unhighlighting, scrolling up and down, going from one tab to the other. I’ve been buying loads of crisps and chocolate, so even if I go to the gym nothing changes. I got got a pack of tick tacks since I thought it was more a problem of chewing on something than actually being hungry, and after one hour I’ve almost finished it (edit: I finished it). And I am automatically eating more and more. Maybe the solution is bring no money with me, not even my card. That way I won’t be able to continuously eat something. And then I’ll be forced to have the apple that stays in my bag because I forget about it.
  • I just came back from the doctor. I had to tell her that I was scared of taking the antidepressants she prescribed. She said since I’m not fine right now, it’s not like taking antidepressants can be too bad for me. And if I do feel worse I can book an appointment, see her, and stop taking them. I can even just start by taking half a tablet a day. But I’m scared. My ex-housemate, I’m going to call her Martha, overdosed many times on antidepressants and eventually hanged herself (she’s still alive, I managed to call the ambulance in time. But for me it was as if she had died in my arms). I’m scared of taking antidepressants in such a delicate moment in my degree. I’m not fine now, but what if I do get worse? What if I get all the negative side effects? I never wanted to take antidepressants. People say there’s no need for antidepressants or that it took them a long time to find the right one. I’m not sure where to go, what to do. I’m lost. If I do take the antidepressants, I don’t have anyone catching me. I won’t have someone who would save me like I saved Martha. Even if I was about to hang myself, I wouldn’t scream my current housemates’ names like Martha screamed mine.
    I can’t.
  • I’ve been putting this off. I’m scared of talking about it. I can’t bring myself to do it. But it’s regarding my work. I haven’t been able to work properly for a long time. Now I’m… in trouble. I might not be able to finish it. I might not be able to finish it properly. I’m scared, I’m really really scared. As I’m writing this my eyes are getting warm. I wish crying helped. I cried once, and at the end I only felt tired. When I woke up, nothing changed. Even now, I am writing this blog post. But I felt like I needed it or I was going to explode. I wish I was like 5 years ago. Even if I was full of stress and negativity, I was still able to work and give it my all and make “miracles happen” in a short amount of time.
    Depression is my biggest enemy. If I want to be successful in the future, I need to beat my one enemy. Once this hindrance is defeated, I believe I will be able to learn and grow more and more, improving each day, achieving one successful goal after the other with time. But I’m 22 now. How much longer until I get better…? I’m losing all hope.
  • I used to be able to work through chaos and noise. Now when  I’m in the lab and the other students are talking, or even just lightly discussing about their projects and lightly laughing every now and then, I go crazy. My head hurts. And then my throat starts hurting (I somatize my stress in my throat). I wonder what changed. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to  go back to how I was before. I want my concentration back. My classmates hated it when I couldn’t be distracted even by them tapping on my shoulder. Now here I am, wishing them all mute and paralyzed. It’s bad.
  • I have… to apply for masters. And do the assignments they gave me. I’m afraid of… wasting time. Not being accepted. Rejection is a big fear I have. I’ve never been academically rejected. What if I don’t get accepted in any masters? What if I stay in the same uni I am in right now? What will my family’s reaction be? What will my reaction be?
  • I wonder if I’m forgetting anything.
  • Ah, right! Clarice said doing EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) might help. It’s a therapy that helps treat traumas. She noticed how there are so many things from the past bothering me, which is true. I tried letting go, but keep failing. I need to get rid of those triggers. I’ll give it a go.

Oh no. The noisy guys are here.
I’m out.

If you got to the end of this post, congrats! I know it must’ve been long and boring and you’re probably thinking “So what? What does this have to do with me?”.
Thank you for reading though. This blog isn’t just about me ranting and letting it all out. I want people to feel comfortable talking about themselves and give each other advice, share experiences. I want my readers to politely and respectfully be able to discuss thoughts, issues and possible solutions or anything related. Maybe eventually even feel better, even if I doubt with all this negativity that will happen with this particular post.

So, hoping there are no grammar mistakes and that my post is clear enough, I’m going to now publish it without proof-reading it!

Thank you for reading,