New beginnings

"Morning not only forgives; it forgets."

—Marty Rubins

It's been years since I last did anything remotely close to posting on a website that, uh, belonged solely to me. I finally got down to starting a blog and customizing it to my liking just so I could have a creative space all to myself with no rules or boundaries whatsoever. Figured the people who follow me on Twitter and Instagram have probably gotten sick of seeing my lengthy tweets and captions discussing stuff that simply don't belong on those sites because I, a 22-year-old woman, can't shut up about something that I have an opinion of (sorry guys). I don't even know if anyone will read this, but that's probably the least of my concerns right now, but here's exactly why I wanted to start a blog, apart from mouthing off about every little opinion I have:

• I've got much more me-time now that I'm not working and I'll explain why I'm not working in a bit;
• I needed an outlet to talk about certain issues that seem to still be taboo in a place like Singapore, i.e. mental health/illnesses
• I kind of wanna document my progress in terms of religious self-discovery (wuzzah, something very personal and uplifting right there)
• ....and Twitter/Instagram just isn't the place for an introvert like me to regurgitate my thoughts

Alright. Let me explain a few things to the four or less of you who might have bothered to read this. I'm not working—at least not right at this moment—reason being (wait for it) my anxiety issues decided to creep up on me and smother me half to death at the beginning of this year. Yup. Earlier this year, I basically lived through the horror of experiencing my anxiety spin itself out of control with little to no power over it. It got so bad I forced myself to go for check-ups at our dear Institute of Mental Health (IMH) and found out I was diagnosed with something called Panic Disorder. If you know what it is, then great! You're either very well-informed, a psychologist, a psychiatric nurse or something along those lines. And if you don't know what it is, then don't worry, it isn't your fault, but it does bring me to my second pointer.

WE NEED TO UP OUR GAME ON WHAT WE KNOW ABOUT MENTAL HEALTH IN SINGAPORE. 

When I walked into IMH for the first time, I felt uncomfortable. Before I had even known I lived with Panic Disorder, I was like everyone else. I'd occasionally joke about IMH like it's a, and I quote, "place for crazy people". How many times in your life have you heard someone joke about IMH like it's some sort of punchline all of us have accepted? Bet you don't even have enough fingers to count it. Anyway, just to be clear, I'm not crazy. And neither is anyone who goes to or is bedridden in IMH. "Crazy" isn't a word you use to describe someone who has an illness, but more on that in another post. My experiences walking in and out of IMH for check-ups and therapy spurred me to write a personal story about how I think my mental illness manifested.

Millennials of Singapore

This screencap of a website might seem familiar to some. This is Millennials of Singapore. It's a website that documents stories and articles written by local millennials. There's a huge range of articles available, ranging from personal stories (tagged Millennial Voices) and even articles about lifestyle choices, yada yada, you get it. Everyone who has submitted an article has a different agenda in mind and I too, decided I wanted to share a personal story. Let me share with you a short excerpt from it:

Very little of my childhood remains in my mind. What I do remember of it were the sporadic bouts of violence happening in the household—things broken, punches thrown, faces bruised, crying, and shouting galore; my mentally unwell mother using me as target practice, mothers of my classmates criticizing my parents’ ability to look after me, and threats of being thrown out. I’d like to think that I don’t remember much because of how I subconsciously repressed all the bad memories and struggled to replace them with good ones later in life. I always thought that what I’d had as a child qualified as a broken home, but when I told others that, they’d simply ask me, “Are your parents divorced?” to which I’d say no. And just like that, all my suffering was dismissed, because “if your parents aren’t divorced, then it isn’t a broken home”, or so they’d said.

The reason I wanted to submit a story is because I was hoping writing something that stems from such a personal part of my life would resonate with someone who may have gone through a similar experience, or get people talking about mental health/illnesses in general. Right before I alighted from a bus at IMH the first time I was scheduled to have an appointment, I recall seeing people look at me oddly. And from the looks on their faces, I knew they were trying to figure out why I was there. Was I a nurse? A patient? A "crazy person"?

You have NO idea how many times someone has said to my face that "you don't look crazy". I really want to shatter this strange stigma surrounding mental illnesses in Singapore because, like I said, "crazy" just isn't the word you use to describe someone who has an illness. I hope they'll accept my story submission. Heck, I'd even agree to doing an interview if it means getting this taboo topic of mental illnesses in Singapore more exposure. I want people to be unafraid to talk about and understand it. I know how it feels being aware that your state of mental health is deteriorating, but being so terrified to seek help that you leave it to become worse.

Anyway, if you've made it this far, thank you. I think that alone means I managed to get through to someone and bring this topic to light (even if it isn't much). Hopefully, little by little, my efforts will become fruitful. All I hope for is for this country I was born in to be as kind to everyone as it is successful. Till next time.

P.S. If Millennials of Singapore does publish my story, I'll share it here.

It'll be our little secret.