How and Where I Want to Die.

I feel good.

The kind of good that someone feels after reading a book, especially a good book, and I just did. I just finished reading “Words In Deep Blue” by Cath Crowley like thirty minutes ago. I actually have to post a book review on Goodreads and on my new blog site intended only for book reviews and other bookish stuffs, but I spent the last 30 minutes munching peanut butter sandwich rolls(which I made) and THINK.

And I am STILL thinking…

“Words in Deep Blue” made me think, this book did. I won’t talk about what I think ABOUT the book but rather what I think BECAUSE of the book.

There’s this part that sadly, I need to paraphrase to avoid giving spoilers about the book. Here it is:

“He died in a place he loved the most. It was quick, it would have been. And the last thing he did before he died is for someone he loves.”

NOTE: No, the novel hasn’t a tragic ending. And I give all the credit to Ms. Crowley for every part of the book that I used here, and even the mere mention of it. 🙂

Anyway, what have I been musing about after finishing the book?  It’s my Death. Here’s the thing about people like me who have been diagnosed with Clinical Depression, and let’s not forget, Anxiety Disorder: Death is a word constant to us, as constant as LIFE itself.

Personally, death has always been there; at the sideline, sometimes behind me, sometimes ahead of me. the point is, it’s always WITH me. I hate to compare LIFE with DEATH but I couldn’t help thinking or acknowledging the fact that Death like Life is always present.

Death is never absent in my life. (Somebody tell me please, what figure of speech I just used.) Maybe it’s kind of a paradox that have been solved. Life is the absence of Death. And Death is the absence of Life. Yet, they coexist.

Moving on…

Death will happen to me. Intentionally or otherwise, I will die. But tonight I made a very important decision:

I WON’T JUST DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!

I will die in a place I love, doing the things I love, and doing them for the people I love.

But what do I love? Oh I know this since forever. I love Reading and Writing.

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Maybe it’s nobler to say that what I love is making people happy, instead of mere Reading and Writing, but making people happy is something I’ve been doing not by choice, it is something I do, and love doing because it’s in my being. It’s what makes me human. I’d be still be doing it even if I choose to do it, or simply if situation demands.

So Reading and Writing then. It’s okay if I die either of the two. It’s okay if I die while reading the worst book ever written. It’s not the book, it’s reading itself that matters. It’s okay if I’m not writing a masterpiece of Literature while having my last breath, as long as I’m writing.

Ah what a good time to die…

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And where? I think any place where I can read or write is a place I’d love. It would be  a perfect place.

And how, one may wonder, am I doing this for the people I love? Well, when I die, they wouldn’t be THAT sad. As simple as that actually. Most of us know the agony, how hard it is when a loved one dies. Most often we have regrets. A death of a loved one is one of the most severe causes of regrets. I don’t want this to happen upon my death.

Thus, I’ll die happily. It would surely make the people I’ll leave behind sad,  but it wouldn’t be the kind of sad with regrets. They won’t regret losing me if they know I died happily.

I’m doing this for myself as well because I consider myself as one of the people I love. No matter how shitty I often think of myself, I still love ME. I choose to love myself, still.

And maybe I wouldn’t feel this way tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll feel shitty again and suicidal. But I don’t to be bothered by that possibility. What matters is tonight. Tonight, I feel good and I want to record it for future use. 🙂 Tonight, I love myself, enough to make a decision, choosing to do something that makes me happy until the day I die.

LIVING HAPPILY,

LILI MARCUS 🙂

 

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Faith smaller than a mustard seed: An Open Letter to God.

My Lord,

Hi.

Actually, I don’t know what to say, or perhaps I’m not sure HOW to say it. Remember when I told you I want out? I was serious that time. I still want to be out, you know. It’s because I’m tired of feeling hurt and ignored. I’m tired of disappointments. Not just in your part, mine as well. I am hurt every time I feel like you disappoint me, though I know, in my heart, you’d answer me, I just have to wait. But see, I’m too weak to wait. And for that I am disappointing you, in return. Every time, I disappoint you, I end up blaming myself to the point of condemnation.

And every Christian knows only worse things come out from condemnation.

I wish I can tell you I’ll be stronger this time, that I’ll be more trusting to you this time. I’m afraid I can’t. I need help. I’ve been in sought of that HELP from you ever since I learned how serious and hopeless my case is. I’m drowning, Lord. I’m also falling. I can’t breathe.

Here’s the thing though, even though I voluntarily turned my back on you, I never felt like you left. No, that’s too much faith. What I mean is that you’re being too easy on me. You don’t give me so much struggle just to force me to get back to you; to accept you again. No, I am in perfect faith you won’t go that far.

Is this faith enough?

I thank you for I think you’re giving me time for myself. You want me to be calm, to relax for a while and get rid of this anxiety that’s been gnawing at me for a long time now. You want me to get some rest, abandon my worries for a while. You want me to clear my mind and be not pressured or stressed of my adversaries and afflictions. You want me to find myself again.

But my Lord, I don’t think I’m having success in the matter. Did I find myself already? Do I know myself more now? Do I understand what’s and have been happening to me all these time?

I don’t have the answer Lord, I’m afraid.

Maybe, somehow, there’s a little faith still left in me for you, but I’m not sure if it’s enough. It must have been even smaller as a mustard seed. And so it must be the littlest faith any Christian can ever have. My faith, it’s too little and meager. Would you want it?

I know you have other children who have faith bigger than the Milky way, so maybe mine would be so insignificant. It may seem not needed and no place in your kingdom. Would you give me at least a place on your doorway, or maybe the windowsill. Any place would do, I just want to be in your presence again.

I want to be with you. But then, would you  have me, Lord?

I can’t promise to be different from what I was before. But then again, I’m not entitled to make any promises, only to rely on yours. It’s your job Lord, to make promises and see them to pass. Would you still have me even if I act like this? With little faith and too much complaints, would you have me?

This depression, this anxiety, I want to get rid of them, yet it’s not that easy. How can I rid of something I’ve been carrying ever since I realized that the world isn’t the best place for weak ones like me to live? It’s been my companion most of my life Lord, and maybe I should be tired of it to get rid of it. But it doesn’t go.

I’m tired of it, alright. I hope my relationship with you, our closeness, did the trick. It didn’t. I still wake up every morning and sleep at night helplessly thinking something will go wrong eventually. Tis what anxiety does to me. And I want it to stop. But how?

This little of faith of mine, if you would have me back my Lord, ’tis only I can offer. The littlest faith you’ll ever know and yet I am not ashamed of it. I somehow believe this. This will take me far enough to be happy. I’ll go as far as from here to THERE. Even the smallest dust can travel far, given the right guide from the wind.

I need the right guide. Would you provide it for me?

This, I realize, is hubris-an overbearing arrogance. How can I ask you of this after everything I’ve done, after I turned my back on you in the most deliberate manner, every devout Christian could ever imagine? Frankly, I feel like I’ve done worse than all the mistakes and sins of all your beloved disciples combined.

There, talk about anxiety to the highest level. 😦

Lastly, My Lord, if you would have me, I have one question. Is it possible for embers to catch fire once again? After the initial fire has died? ‘Cause you see, My Lord, that’s all I am now-an ember. And I’m so scared no fire would ever rekindle in me again and I’d end up to ashes.

Just as my faith a dust-size, myself as ashes. Dust and ashes, if they have something in common it is DEATH.

And that’s what I’m afraid the most. Thus, I’m turning back to you. You are life-so I’ve heard.

 

—-LILI

What I Say When I’m Not Speaking

 

I did it again.

It happens to me once in a while. I won’t speak a word for hours and people can count the words I utter in the entire day. I’m not sure if my family, or friends, notice it but I’ve been battling depression. Maybe they notice I’m acting weird but they will never know why.

I am not speaking anyway. But, aside from I AM NOT OKAY, I want to tell them these:

1. STOP TALKING TO ME

I want to yell. I want to scream. And screaming or yelling isn’t talking so it’s better if I don’t open my mouth at all. When I do, it’s like snapping and they wouldn’t like that. I live in a country where depression is being ignored. I don’t know if it’s intentional but people around me are just judgmental, or maybe that’s just what I see. But if I snap at someone, I know what would they say, I’m a snob and unpleasant.

2. THIS ISN’T MY FAULT

Maybe it is, but that’s not what I feel. Stop blaming me. I want to talk. I want to be chatty like I normally do. But I just can’t. This is not my choice. When I try speaking while not being snappy, I feel like crying. So it’s better if I don’t just talk even if I want to. I can’t control it. People see me as a strong person and look at me as if nothing can break me down but there is.

3. MY BRAIN SUCKS

No one will agree. My friends consider me as their adviser. Maybe because I’m a writer and seriously, writers know what to say every time, in every situation. What they don’t know is that I hate my brain. It’s unfair. I get to say the right words to other people but not to my self. This seems like self-pity but self-pity is easily curable, my state isn’t. It’s as if inside my brain there is an old insecure friend that keeps coming back. Or like an ex-boyfriend who just can’t move on over me. It’s f*cking annoying.

4. STOP TELLING ME I SHOULD UNWIND

I’ve tried that. I grew up in a country and I’ve watched the sunset thousand times, even the sunrise. I’ve watched birds flying under the blue sky and above the blue sea. I’ve breathed the freshest air there was in my place. It’s not that easy. What works for others might not work for me. Unwinding might have just worsen it since hello, depressed people hate life, and when I step out of my room, that’s what I see-Life.

5. THIS ISN’T MIGRAINE

It is curable, they say. Then why am I still like this? I really hope those pills work. Or those blog posts that says ‘ten ways to overcome depression’ works. They don’t. If I would be given a chance I would pluck out that old friend in my brain and kill it. It isn’t easy. It isn’t migraine that I can just sleep it off, or take some capsule.

6. I’M BEING SELFISH, I KNOW

I can’t help it, I’m sorry. When I’m depressed it feels like I just want everyone to understand ME. I hate it that they don’t care. Why wouldn’t they care? Can’t they see? The thing is I know it’s not their fault either. I’m just being cynic. And now I feel like I am not the friend or family they deserve. It’s better to die.

7. I’M TIRED(EXHAUSTED EVEN)

Let me rest. Seriously, it’s not just my brain, my heart is tired, my body is exhausted. I am drained. I don’t know what to do. It feels like all my enthusiasm and motivation are all gone. Know why depression leads to self-mutilation? Because we want to feel anything physically. Because we are so tired inside. Or sometimes, we’re too tired we became numb and we want to feel SOMETHING. I don’t know how to explain this but all I want to do is resting. LET ME REST PLEASE. I AM BEGGING.

8. I WANT TO KILL SOMEONE AND THAT SOMEONE IS ME

I’ve been battling depression since I was young. And it’s a miracle I am still alive. I always feel like my life isn’t worth it. My life is not important. I don’t have a value so what’s the point. I want to stop feeling all these. I want to die. The first time I cut myself was when I was twelve. Luckily, the blade I got was a little rusty and blunt so I didn’t succeed cutting any deadly vein. The scars on my wrists almost faded now, but the reason why I did it, is still very much alive. I want to die.

Please, if you have someone you love who’s battling with depression, make them feel loved and accepted. THEY, WE, NEED IT MORE THAN OTHERS. Give them more attention, a little unfair but it’s not their fault. Depression isn’t something that we can leave at home or keep at our closet. It’s with us, whether we like it or not. It’s like a leech that crept on our skin sometime long ago and never left us. Just sucking every bit of us and it feels like it won’t leave until it sucks nothing anymore. Until we’re dead.

Hope I’m wrong in that last part…

I don’t have a phone number or anything anyone can call when they need someone to talk to. I just stop asking for help a long time ago.

But if you want, you guys can reach out to me. I’m still battling with depression but there are times I’m fine. And like I said, I always know the right words to say to other people but not to myself. So I can give advise. And I think the only people who can understand someone with depression are the ones experiencing it too. Let’s help each other.

SPEAKING:

LILI