Tag: anxiety

“Can you dabao McDonald’s home for your dad?”

I felt my palms get sweaty and my heart beat faster as I read the text from my mum on the way home from school one day. Should I think of an excuse to not do so? Maybe tell her I don’t have enough money to buy dinner for my dad?

Surely ordering a McDonald’s meal over the cashier wasn’t that difficult. And yet, the thought of having to talk to a stranger left me in a cold sweat. What if I messed up the order? What would the cashier think of me? I hated how these thoughts would consume me at every step of the way. Why couldn’t I be like the other kids? All I wanted was to be normal.

LEARNING ABOUT SOCIAL ANXIETY

Whenever my friends ask me, “Why you don’t wanna join us? Don’t be so anti-social leh,” I wish I could’ve told them that it’s not that I didn’t want to hang out with them, I was just afraid that they wouldn’t like me.

Or when my secondary school teacher gave me feedback that went something like, “You’re too shy in class and should open up and take part in class discussions more,” I wish I could’ve told her that it’s not that I didn’t want to participate more in class, I was just afraid of the humiliation from answering questions wrongly. Would I become a laughing stock? And if I get it right, would they think that I’m just showing off?

In school, I pretty much kept to myself most of the time and I didn’t have a lot of friends.. To an outsider, I was shy and introverted. I guess I came across as antisocial at times.

Because everyone kept calling me shy, I believed that that’s all that it was. But no matter how much I tried to break out from my “shyness”, I couldn’t.

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One day, my friend noticed that I would get panic attacks before class presentations. My heart would race faster and cause a lump in my throat that made it difficult to breathe. She encouraged me to talk to the school counselor.

My school counselor was the first person to tell me that I may have social anxiety disorder. She referred me to a psychiatrist, who diagnosed me with it.

I was finally able to rationalise everything I had been feeling for the better part of my life. However, I also came to realise that it is much easier to let people think that I was just ‘shy’, because when you start telling someone that you have a mental condition, chances are you’d have to start explaining why you feel certain things—how do I explain feelings that I don’t even want to have myself?

Admitting that I had social anxiety to other people was the most difficult part of coming to terms with my mental health. The first time I told someone about my social anxiety, they said: “Huh isn’t that just social awkwardness? I also have!”

I couldn’t blame them for reacting that way but hearing that from friends was still pretty hurtful. It made me feel that what I felt or thought didn’t matter. Them brushing me off made me even more resistant to tell anyone else about it.

Even today, my parents are unaware of my social anxiety. Growing up, I’ve felt the disdain my parents’ have towards mental issues through the passing remarks they make about mental health patients being “attention-seeking” and “weak”.

Because of this, I hid the fact that I had social anxiety to myself. And for the most part of my teenage years, social anxiety controlled my life because I didn’t dare to speak to anyone about it.

WHAT DOES SOCIAL ANXIETY FEEL LIKE?

Social anxiety is not being able to answer questions in class because I was scared of what my classmates would think of me.

Social anxiety is having my heart race 10 times faster when I hear the telephone ring, and then having to rehearse exactly what to say before answering it.

Social anxiety is the constant fear of having my friends talk about me behind my back, because in my mind, I'd keep thinking that they don’t actually like me.

Social anxiety is listening more than talking in group discussions because I’ve convinced myself that my opinions don’t matter, and that I will just be looked down upon.

It decided what I did and didn’t do, and this constant self-doubt and fear got so bad that it created limitations that hindered my everyday life. No matter how illogical the thoughts I had were, I would constantly find reasons to avoid situations that could trigger my social anxiety in the slightest way.

Back when I was on an internship, I called in sick on the day that I was supposed to head for a meeting at another office. The thought of facing the unfamiliar and embarrassing myself in front of my boss and associates scared me. It wasn’t just the nerves either. I genuinely feared the consequences of failure. In my mind, this just kept replaying: “If I mess this up, my boss would hate me and my entire six months of internship would become a nightmare.”

Slowly, I realised that I was letting my social anxiety influence my day-to-day decisions. I had let it consume my life in a lot of subtle ways and there was a point I thought I would never be able to overcome my social anxiety.

For years I ignored having to deal with it. I stupidly thought that ignoring it would somehow make the problem go away. But I realised that it was impossible to avoid situations that could trigger my social anxiety forever. After all, I’d have to meet people everyday, be it at work, in school or in public, I would always be surrounded by people. And with that, I would always be scared of what the people around me were thinking of me.

LEARNING TO RIDE WITH IT

When I joined the workforce at 23, I found that the people around me were a lot more open-minded and accepting, contrary to the people I’ve met in school or at home. That made me comfortable in opening up about my social anxiety.

For the most part, having social anxiety means putting up an act everyday, because it’s difficult for someone else to recognise this disorder, or differentiate it from merely being shy. But finally being able to openly talk about it and realising that there are other people out there who can relate to my struggles made me feel less alone.

I would be lying if I said that I don’t get sweaty palms anymore when I get an unexpected phone call or if I have to share my thoughts to a group of people. And I still often struggle with the habitual thoughts that my friends or colleagues are speaking ill of me whenever I hear them whispering near me.

Social anxiety is probably something that I will never ‘get rid of’ completely, it’s every McDonald’s order, every first conversation, every phone call to a stranger, that has helped me get better over the years.

I’ve come to accept that my social anxiety will always be a part of me and that I should grow with it, instead of against it.

Also read: 8 Singapore Shared Snapshots Of What Depression Was Like For Them

(Header Image Credit: Budagchin Erka)

Violence was prevalent in my family ever since I was 10 years old. My parents struggled with finances and my dad turned to alcoholism. The mounting stress and tension caused my parents to fight a lot and they started taking out their anger on us. They would often punish me over the smallest things, emotionally and physically abusing me (hitting me).

And when my parents fight or have physical outbursts, I’d tell my sisters to hide in the room while I put myself out there to bear the brunt of my parents’ anger. Somehow, it felt like the right thing to do for my siblings as the eldest. I also felt like it was my duty to be the middleman in helping my parents resolve their disputes—a responsibility I carried on my shoulders as the first child. I even took on three part-time jobs while in poly so that I could help with the finances.  

There was a lot of emotional void and I was constantly trying to do things to please them or make them happy, so that I would get more love from them. I grew to have a people-pleasing attitude because of that.

Those traumatic experiences took its toll on me and I started to have depression and anxiety.

Then, I had my first mental breakdown at 20.

What Is There To Live For?

For eight months, I locked myself in my room and tried multiple ways to kill myself. I was in so much pain internally that I felt like I really could not take it anymore. I felt like there was no other way out of the plight I was in. Everyday was just a constant fight to stay sane amidst the fights, emotional abuse, and physical beatings.

The details are all fuzzy now, but I remember trying to cut myself, hang myself, and overdosing. Fortunately, I didn’t know enough to properly take my life back then, and when the suicide attempts didn’t work, I continued cutting myself instead—to feel the pain. I could not process all those pent-up frustration, anger, and sadness I had, and in order to let out the pain that I felt inside, I felt like I had to feel pain on the outside.

At that point, I had already been going to the doctor’s and had been taking medications for depression and anxiety. However, my parents weren’t convinced that I was struggling with mental issues.

My mom kept my medication and refused to give it to me. To my parents, it was their way of preventing me from overdosing, but even when I needed it, they wouldn’t give it to me—even when I had a full-fledged panic attack, my dad simply stood there and said:

“Don’t be a drama queen.”

As far as my parents were concerned, I needed to snap out of it.

Fast forward to 2014 when I was 25, I had my first major dissociative episode.

https://www.facebook.com/millennialsofsingapore/videos/2331802640396827/

I Lost My Memory And Dissociated

I had been feeling really stressed out from juggling a few jobs, and had to complete some work at home over this one weekend, when I already had another part-time job that weekend. I made plans to finish that piece of work on Sunday night instead, only to return home on that fateful night to see my dad and a relative drunk and passed out on the couch. The house stank so badly from alcohol and the pools of vomit all across the living room, and my mom was nowhere to be seen. That was the last straw and was what triggered my first dissociative episode.

I lost my memory and began acting like a child for three months.

I didn’t even have a memory of what happened or how I was behaving, and it was through the people around me that I learnt of it.

It is very scary to know that for three months, you were being taken over by this other personality. I didn't know what was going on and it was very unsettling and stressful to know that I dissociated.

Although, it also gave me a sense of comfort in knowing that there was more to what I’ve been feeling than depression and anxiety. After multiple visits to hospitals and various psychiatrists, I started getting treatments that effectively helped me revert to normal adult behaviour. However, the memory that I lost was still gone.

It was a year later when I got diagnosed with DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder), or ‘split personality’ to most people.

I was doing my Master’s in the United States back then, and it was at a psychiatric ward there that I was also diagnosed with major depressive disorder, generalised anxiety disorder, borderline personality disorder, and post-traumatic stress disorder—all of these with triggers that are rooted to traumas that go way back into my childhood.

The Scary Part About Having ‘Split Personality’

When all you know about DID is from how awful and terrible it is portrayed in movies and media (like in Split), it makes you fear having DID yourself. I didn’t like any of my personalities when I was first diagnosed, and the denial lasted a while before I accepted my disorders. But DID is far from what is shown in the media.

Having DID feels like having 28 persons living inside me—which is the number of personalities I currently have.

One of her 28 personalities, Saddie. This was done by Saddie when she took over. Saddie is a sad personality who cries over everything.
Image: Gaya

I don’t have any recollection of what happens when one personality takes over. Sometimes, I dissociate within a snap of a finger when the trigger is very strong, like when someone approaches me from behind, at the stench of alcohol, or even men, because of the sexual abuse I’ve been through (I was naive and a people-pleaser). These triggers come from my history—traumatic experiences I’ve had since young.

My past has also made me very sensitive to stress, and I don’t have the capability to handle any change in behaviour from people around me. It’s made it almost impossible for me to get a full-time job. However, I’m also fortunate to be able to make a living from freelance marketing jobs.

But the scariest part of all is not so much of the disorders itself or having to face the people around me. The scariest part is not knowing when I will be suicidal and when I will act on those suicidal thoughts.

Road To Recovery

With the help of various treatments in the US and in IMH, medications, and focus groups, I have come to understand the significance of my personalities.

There are personalities that take over when there are triggers that make me angry. For example, Angie comes out when I’m really, really angry and when she’s in control, it makes me become uncontrollable, physically violent, and extremely strong. There was an event that happened in the US where three men with big build couldn’t hold me down when Angie took over, and I had to be physically restrained when they took me to the hospital.

Then, there’s Viyolante, who thinks of violence, gruesome and graphic acts, and is very specific about who and how she’s going to be violent towards or hurt, but she will never do anything violent.

On the other hand, there are a lot milder ones like Baby Gayu and Wava, who are childlike personalities, and a motherly figure, Moonlight, who takes care of everyone. There’s also a rescuer personality, Ressie, and a ‘non-living’ personality called Memory (or Mem), which is sort of like a treasure chest that holds all my lost memories.

Another personality: Rebbekkah, a rebellious, cunning, and sneaky teenager. This was done by Rebbekkah when she took over.
Image: Gaya

I’ve learnt a lot more about my conditions, how to process my emotions, and to logically process the traumatic memories I have instead of dissociating upon triggers.

In the process of recovery, I’ve also had to make the extremely hard decision of cutting my family and husband out of my life, which I did five months ago. I realised that there was no way I could properly recover if I still had to face those triggers when I return home to my family every day.

My siblings and I when we were teens
Image: Gaya

There are many times I feel guilty for leaving home and leaving them, as I feel like I’ve betrayed and ‘abandoned’ them. I’ve always felt responsible to ‘fix what’s broken’ in my family, and I still feel this way. However, I know that if I don’t focus on my recovery right now, there is no way I will be stable enough to face them, much less solve any problems.

Staying Alive For The Prospect Of Better Days

I have a dream to be named one of the most influential women in the world by 35, or doing a PHD in South Korea and then settling there. These are ambitious dreams, but are goals I set for myself to remind me that I have to keep going as there are still things I want to achieve in my life.

But of course, living with mental disorders can be so overpowering that despite having all these goals and aspirations, I still feel empty and battle with suicidal thoughts and aimlessness. It’s a constant and daily fight and I still wake up feeling depressed and suicidal on most days.

However, the process of working my way through it, of recovery itself and believing that someday, I will be able to live a normal life, keeps me going—because I don't know what normal is, I never had a normal life.

These feelings come and go, and it’s always a reminder for me to take it one step at a time.

This story is written by Millennials of Singapore as told to us by Gaya.

Also read: “I Kept Hearing Voices Of People Criticising Me, And I Could No Longer Tell What Was Real”.

(Header Image Credit: Shirley J. Davis)

“What are you anxious about?” This is a question I’m asked all too often, and usually, this is how it goes: I try to explain why I’m feeling this way, other people try to convince me that it’s all in my head, telling me “just don’t think about it” like it’s as simple as that. And I simply… nod and pretend to agree. It’s come to a point where I’ve stopped telling people I’m feeling anxious altogether, and resorted to saying that I’m not feeling well—it’s just a lot easier that way.

What’s Wrong With Me?

I first found out about my anxiety 3 years ago. I was constantly on edge. There would be many times throughout the day when I’d feel like I couldn’t breathe. My own thoughts and worries would just keep coming and I just couldn’t shut off my brain. Beyond that, it felt like I was constantly waiting—always waiting for the anxiety to pass. What was wrong with me? Wanting to make sense of this, I went to see the doctor. What started as one visit turned into a lot more. The doctors visits grew more and more frequent, and being a student, this burned a hole in my pocket. The doctors would offer vague diagnoses, saying its stomach flu, or some virus and they would “fix” me symptomatically. That only worked till the course of the medication was completed. After that, I was back to square one. The 4th doctor I saw finally prescribed me anxiety meds. It was a gamble on his part because, at the time, he wasn’t sure if I had anxiety. I was just glad for another explanation for the way I was feeling. That night, I took the medicine and it felt like the blizzard in my belly had blown through, and it was clear skies again. No more unpredictable waves of nerves. No more sinking feeling in my stomach with no explanation. I went on feeling this way… until the anxiety returned. My body had gotten used to the drugs and the anxiety had found its way back to me. Feeling like a prisoner in my own mind, I constantly told myself it was going to be okay. I told myself I would get through this. There was a time when I too, thought it was as easy as chucking negative, worrying thoughts to the back of my mind. I’ve tried that, but it simply doesn’t work—it never has. Anxiety doesn't heed the advice of logic. No matter how much I tell myself to keep positive or calm, my anxiety overshadows it, and I hear nothing else.

Living With Anxiety

Living with anxiety is exhausting—both mentally and physically. I was going through the motions day in and day out. Even with all the concessions and exceptions my friends and family made for me, it felt like they all turned into crutches for me. While it helps at first, in the long run, it’s no remedy. Often, I’ve found myself wondering what it’s like to not feel this way. We’ve all felt free before; relaxed. That feeling of having no worries, no stress in the world. Clutching onto that memory, I always think back, trying to remember what that felt like, wishing I could go back to that. I look at the people around me, at the way they seem to be able to deal with life and its demands so much better, and it frustrates me that I can’t do the same. When others are stressed or nervous, they’re able to rein their feelings in. They can control how they feel and prevent it from getting in their way. That’s something I can’t seem to do no matter how hard I try. My emotions always get the better of me.

Slightly Broken And It’s Okay

These days, I cope better. I still have my bad days, but I also have plenty of good ones. I’ve come up with a couple of tricks to keep my anxiety under control. Guided meditations are my go-to and have now become a routine. I’m surrounded by people who care about me, and while they may not fully understand what I’m experiencing, I can see the many ways they try. Even though I’ve been cursed with this problem, many blessings have come forth from it. Despite feeling slightly broken, I think I’ll do okay.
The ability to trust oneself completely is rare. For most of us, it can be rather tricky. We all second-guess ourselves, have the tendency to not listen to our gut, and hold on to past mistakes that make it difficult for us to trust ourselves. While there’s nothing wrong with having a lack of self-trust, it might be beneficial to recognize the reasons behind it. Have you ever done something because someone else told you to? Made decisions that weren’t entirely your own? You’re not alone.

Two sides to every coin

There are two kinds of people: Those who’ve never been taught to trust themselves, and those who somewhere along the way, have lost trust in themselves. The first kind are the ones that have never been taught to be independent. Chances are they’ve always had parents, family or friends who modeled trust. These are the people who often run around seeking advice from people (whom they hopefully trust) about their life, relationship or career. They often let someone else – be it family or friends, make decisions for them. And I’m not talking about deciding on what to wear to a date. Ultimately, no one is going to be responsible for your future except you. So doesn't it sound crazy to allow someone else to make decisions for you? Every person in your life has the potential to leave you, except you. There’s no one you can completely rely on but yourself. The second kind, the ones who’ve lost their self-trust, is where the vast majority belongs. When we repeatedly fail or give up on something, instead of beating the odds, we begin convincing ourselves that we are just a bunch of “good-for-nothings”. When we come close to even thinking about giving up, we imagine part of our mind saying, ‘I knew it, I knew you were good for nothing, loser.” There’s nothing wrong with having a little bit of self-doubt. Everyone feels it. But gone unchecked, it has a way of getting under your skin. It gives you crippling anxiety that tricks you into believing that you’re not good enough, or that you’re not worthy of something.

Go easy on yourself

The problem is that many of us believe that we are the worst judge of our own character. We constantly beat ourselves up for not being good enough and let our past mistakes haunt us. But what does trusting yourself mean, exactly? And what makes it so difficult for us to trust ourselves? Trusting yourself is not just about being aware of your thoughts and feelings; it’s about expressing them. It’s knowing when you need to care for yourself first, knowing you can get up and try again when you make a mistake, and knowing what you want without the limitations of others. If we want to take our first step on the path to trusting ourselves, we have to 1) believe in our intuition, 2) take risks and make mistakes, and 3) forgive ourselves. While this may not be easy, it is absolutely essential for us to learn. The last thing we need to be doing is to stop judging ourselves based on our failures. Once we start trusting ourselves, we become less apologetic for our setbacks and less reliant on the opinions of others. We become better decision makers, because we’re only responsible for ourselves. As clichéd as it sounds, when we trust ourselves, we find ourselves in a better place.