Spring Night

A hellish week. 

A hellish day. 

A hellish hour. 

A hellish minute. 

A hellish second.

I haven't had a bad episode in a while. But two weeks ago, it started. I could feel it brewing, hot on my chest but I tried to suppress it as much as I can. Like I always have.

But sometimes I fail. Sometimes I let it happen. Sometimes I get too tired. Sometimes I don't know what was even happening.  And that was what happened 2 weeks ago. 

I was determined though this time. Determined to pull through this one without a scratch.  But the more I tried the more difficult it became for me to take control. 

Honestly at this point I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. But again, honestly, that was how it felt for the past two weeks. 

There are times, moments, seconds where I'd be up in the sky. And the next second I'd be hitting my head on the wall repeatedly trying to figure out why I was feeling so fucking terrible. What's even worse was that it happened during office hours and one of my colleagues had to take me to the hospital to get my head checked. 

With Ama's wedding in a few days, new syllabus and programs that I have to prepare for at work, other friends and tensions rising around me, I can only muster enough energy to not go on a path of immediate destruction. 

Friends started asking if I was okay and the more they asked the more I knew I wasn't. But I couldn't answer because how would I answer? What could I possibly say to them to make them understand that No, I'm not okay. But I also don't know why I'm not okay. I know it's because of my bipolar disorder 2. But the real cause behind it? The real reason behind it? I really don't know. 

And what can they do after that? Console me? Comfort me? Say that it's all gonna be okay like I don't already know that? 

I rarely have anxieties anymore. I have been able to handle that pretty well for the past few years, but somehow, it was adamant on making a comeback two weeks ago. Like it missed seeing me in such a disheveled state. Like it missed seeing me break down after a social interaction. 

I hated that. I hated that I've come so far. That it took me so long to come this far. And it only took seconds to make it seem like I haven't tried at all. Like I was back at the start.

I didn't tell my friends. I didn't tell anyone. Because everytime I tell someone about one of my episodes it felt like I'm just making an excuse to be a bitch to everyone. And that's the last thing I want my friends to think of me.

But I was in a really bad shape. In a sense where even when my phone rings, signalling a text came in, I'd find it hard to breathe. I'd find it hard to respond. To say anything that would fit appropriate social contexts. So I started responding to text as short as possible. And if it's not necessary, then I didn't respond at all in the hope that my friends would just assume I was very busy. Fooling people was one thing, but fooling myself was something I never knew how.

More people started asking if I was really alright so I was starting to think that I didn't fool anyone at all. I appreciate all the concerns but there was no way I could respond to any of them without lying. And I hate lying.

So I ignored. Ignored anything or anyone that reminds me that I am not okay. The last thing I need was a reminder of how a mess I was.

Things escalated and I was starting to hurt myself. I had to stop this madness or the madness will inevitably consume my last piece of sanity.

I turned to God. I turned to my medications. I turned to my doctor. And it helped me to atleast go through my day without episodes. But I needed to be okay. Not just fine enough to go through days.

I visited Shafiq's grave. I talked to him. I cried my heart out to him. And my heart finally found the relief it had been desperately looking for. I haven't visited him for  a while now and I wonder if that was the reason I had been so restless. so out of place. so devastatingly clueless.

I went back home and I thanked God for the blessings he had given me.

I lay down on my bed, and put Spring Day on replay, I cried myself to sleep and woke up with a sense of calmness I haven't had in a while.

I was still anxious about a lot of things,  I was aware that my demons were still cradling my shoulders, and I knew I had to face the music sooner or later. But at that moment, I finally could tell myself that it was gonna be okay and I just needed time to readjust certain things in my life