Saturday, the first night. I was rushed to the hospital, but no nearby facilities could accept me because we needed an S2-licensed psychiatrist. My family was advised to take me straight to the NCMH (National Center for Mental Health). They saved my life.

I was nearly intubated and electroshocked…it was that life-threatening, my mother said. This is literally my second life, yet I don’t remember most of what happened…

I just recall waking up confused about where I was and why there were so many tubes connected to my body. At one point, I even pulled out my IV, leaving blood all over my bed and the floor. I tried to pull out my catheter, too, but..damn…that hurt so much and I couldn’t do it. (If you know what a catheter is, you know!) My closest cousin, who works in a hospital, even teased me about it when she saw it.

The nurses gave me multiple doses of activated charcoal. I didn’t care what I was drinking… I was just so thirsty. No matter how black it was. My arms were covered in bruises, likely from all the injections and tests.

By the second day, Sunday, my ward mate, Aryan, was singing and screaming at the top of her lungs. I acted shocked, which prompted the nurses to tell me not to engage with her during her episodes. I was just being playful, though! We talked about a lot of random things, but I’m pretty sure neither of us understood the other… probably because we were both so unstable.

I was craving solid meals, but all I got was a liquid diet during my first two day stay at the ER pav 7. Thank God jelly ace exists…I even got multiple lunches with jellies only. They are considered a “liquid diet.” I consider jelly aces as solid food!

Monday, the third day. Aryan was still my only ward mate, and I felt safe with her. It was just the two of us, despite the other three empty beds in our area. She continued to scream her songs. Sometimes, I’d “diagnose” her with schizophrenia and narcissism, but deep down, I think she just wanted her family to come for her and for the nurses to stay by her side all the time. She craved constant attention, something providers in a public psych ward simply can’t give.

Tuesday, the fourth day. Life was still relatively easy. It was still just Aryan and me. (Psychiatric hospitals are not that bad at all….I thought)

My bed also sits right next to the oxygen tank station. Every time the nurses move them, the metal clinks and clangs, creating a melodic ringing that makes me feel as though I’ve been transported to Tibetan temples.

Wednesday, the fifth day. Shitty things happen randomly. Out of the eleven patients in our pavilion wing, seven got a fever…Aryan among them. Then, one by one, patients in our wing began to pass away. (or perhaps this is what a normal experience in the ER is like) Some live…some don’t. We gained a third ward mate: “Doorknob Mother.” She literally had a doorknob stuck on her finger and needed surgery to amputate it due to a severe infection. She sang loudly, too.

The sixth day. We got a fourth ward mate, El, who could speak clearly like I do. The nurses were constantly checking our blood pressure and temperatures. Suddenly, at 2:00 AM, Aryan was rushed out of our ward. I didn’t know why at first, only that she had a fever. I cried uncontrollably as I watched the doctors and nurses prepare to intubate her. She was my first friend there…the only one who made me feel safe aside from healthcare providers. As we were separated, I kept repeating the mantra: “What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.” Aryan was only 1 year younger than me.

Aryan didn’t survive whatever disease she caught. That was the moment I knew I had to get out. My brothers had visited me for six straight days, and on that sixth day, I begged my eldest brother to help me get released immediately. I couldn’t handle it anymore…my traumas were multiplying by the second. Luckily, my psychiatrist and the nurses liked me and believed I was ready for the outside world. I passed the interviews with the “higher-ups,” and I was cleared to leave.

I can live my second life for you, too, Aryan.
My hands are shaking nonstop…I was traumatized. But I have to try to be optimistic. I’m back in the world now, with an appointment for outpatient follow-ups.

I will live. But please….anyone who love me? help me go back to reality if I will lose control again…

PS. My psychiatrist actually agreed with me when I mentioned the flaws in the system. Politics. It’s always politics. Without the corruption, perhaps things would have ended differently. (But they have great meals…I loved my breakfast and dinner meals.)

Some adults are lonelier than ordinary lonely adults because they are ashamed to admit the need of having friends. I caught myself being shameful while talking to my psychiatrist yesterday about it. Told him…I am ashamed to talk about this because I’m too old for this. (I’m 34)

Due to above-normal heart palpitations and panic attacks, my doctor switched my prescription from clonazepam to alprazolam..(another benzo btw.) Thank God, because finding clonazepam stock has been a real horror for me, too!

How are you now? Do you have a friend?

***TW. substance use disorder.

Day four after being diagnosed with PTSD and Bipolar. Weak. I can’t do anything due to my crimson tide as well. I feel so weak. The physical copy of my clonazepam (a benzo) just arrived. I used to write about it when I was working as a content writer for our rehab facilities. Yes, I was a content writer for mental health and substance use disorder.

The main reason I delayed consulting with a mental health professional is because I was self aware that I’m prone to substance misuse with the type of meds they might prescribe. I want to cry now. But I know I love my body this time, (enough that I didn’t relapse to harming myself with sharp objects.)

I worked for three years writing content to offer our programs where people can be connected with professional support. (offshore) My experience was like writing thesis everyday! 😅 My favorite source is https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov (National Center for Biotechnology Information) NCBI.

It’s funny that last year I was diagnosed with abdominal problems that required me to take opioids…and now for mental health…sedatives, and benzo.

I’ve proven myself that I could handle this well because I stopped opioids easily. ☺️ I just find it ironic…that after all those years I was writing content about them…now I’m personally writing about them as I’m experiencing these now firsthand.

I will be okay. I just want this crimson tide to end…because it makes my pain 100X painful.

Women… we suffer too much in a world where men act like they own us. I hate how this humanity is programmed. We need to do something about this. This can’t be it forever.

Men might say…oh, so you have crimson tide that is why your mood is f*cked up! I swear if somebody would tell me this, I might punch their face. My psychiatrist didn’t even ask me about my cycle, so no one should use this as a standalone rhetoric.

***

6:50 PM~

My brain is no longer acting up in a way that affects my breathing whenever I hear negative news. But my heart is beating so fast that I feel like a zombie trying to come back to life.

****

9:19 PM~

I haven’t cried today.

*****

1:35 AM~19-Apr-26

I didn’t cry at all. ☺️

Day 1 after consultation. I have something to look forward to. My medicines. But I can’t talk to people without cigarettes so I just hide inside my room. I still can’t take a bath. Still can’t finish anything. Taking a bath daily in my tropical country is mandatory due to summer heat. But I don’t do anything in my room…perhaps the heat is not reaching me that much. I also just lie down on my room floor.

Day 2. My breakfast is a cigarette and coffee. Still hardly breathing when some events flood my mind. Waiting for my meds. (still can’t buy them, I want to buy all of them together at once!) Crying at times. Hiding in my room. I want someone to talk to but don’t want to be a burden.

Day 3. I updated my closest friends about my condition. I love them so much. I can only count them using my fingers, but god, they are gems. Called my mom to ask ‘how are you?’ Also, I finally bought some of my medicines last night (using the digital prescription of risperidone and divalproax sodium) and drank them properly. No alcohol. My tolerance for sedations is tremendously high so I’m still waiting for the physical copy of my clonazepam prescription to arrive. I bought so many food! But can’t finish them…what do you expect?

I was able to finish one movie this afternoon, replaying Lost in Translation. Is it the effect now of the medicines? What will I do next later today and the day after, and the day after tomorrow? I don’t know. I guess I’ll write?

I watch Hayley Williams concerts in different states in the US. I love that she uses the Lost in Translation quote recording, (…during Dream Girl in Shibuya song introduction. It is nostalgic. ☺️)

Bob: “I don’t want to leave.”
Charlotte: “So don’t. Stay here with me. We’ll start a jazz band.”

***

What did Bob whisper to Charlotte at the end of the movie? Did you know? Should we know? ☺️

****

PS. I NEED TO LESSEN MY COFFEE DRINKING. My heart is beating abnormally these days.

When you’re depressed… when you have PTSD or Bipolar disorder, people may often misinterpret your symptoms. They think you just “need space” and end up staying away. I want to talk to people, but I can’t talk to those who don’t understand. Those who do understand are simply busy, and I don’t want to disturb them.

Who will I be without alcohol or a cigarette in my mouth? I’ll freeze and can’t breathe. That is why I asked for professional support… but the physical copies of my prescriptions haven’t arrived yet. Can’t use online copy my doctor said. I can’t bring myself to go outside or check into a hospital; I just want to curl up in my room. However, I’m running out of cigarettes and alcohol. I haven’t bathed in five days. My breakfast today is just a cigarette.

There is nothing I want to do. I can’t practice the piano. I can’t draw. I can only write. I want to talk to someone, but above all, I want to talk to myself and post here because I’m having passive self-harming thoughts. If you’re reading this, know that I’m thankful you’re listening to me. ☺️ This is my own space, at the end of the day.

My psychologist friend told me that the prescriptions my doctor gave me might numb me.

Will I be a different person once I start this medication?

I have to go back to work in a week. I’ll be busy; my boss even offered me a promotion. I am capable of doing wonderful things, and I will do wonderful things. When it feels like nobody cares, you have to stand up for yourself. (I have trusted people I can run to…but to be hurt by the people you adore so much would make you feel alone.) I will never be the same. I’m going to buy the piano I’ve been dreaming to have and write my own songs.

I was planning to join a poetry book contest, but since the system for getting “known” in the art world revolves around capitalism, I’ve decided to only post my works here. It’s going to be free for you! ☺️

I want to write helpful things moving forward. Will I be okay? I will be okay. You’ll be okay, too.

***

But how about the people who don’t have the means to get help? I feel so lucky. But how about the other people? What can I do for them?

If you’re in the Philippines and think you need professional help for mental health, get booked in PGH for free assistance and do it fast before your worst symptoms! The scheduling might take 3-4 months!!!

My symptoms got worse and relapsed…but I had means to seek immediate help at least with selfpay. Do not wait for your mental health to get worse, it’s hard to get free assistance right away.

Search for online scheduling for PGH. If it’s a mental health crisis, or you think you’d be harmful to yourself or others, they can accommodate you immediately if you go straight to their ER.

***

Babe, you can do it. Choose to live.

🖤✨

Poetry helps me survive. I can’t just do normal journaling because I even feel ashamed of myself. I can’t write direct words. But with poetry, everything seems to have life, even the darkest times of my life seem to have dancing auroras and nebulae.