I used to be extremely afraid of sleeping on my own when I was young, and I’d always crawl into my mom’s bed when she’s sound asleep. I could recall seeing many doppelgängers of my grandfather (still strong and healthy now) in the apartment I lived when I was like 6 or 7 in a repetitive nightmare. I was so frightened that all the monsters in my nightmares were real and could come catch me.
When I was a teen, I still hadn’t overcome the fear of sleeping alone completely, but I managed to listen to the radio or chat with my night-owl friends until I couldn’t help shutting my eyes. However the monsters would still visit me from time to time, especially during exam periods. I remember crashing into an infinitely giant wall of tofu (yes, tofu) in a pitch-black space alone, and was awakened shivering and almost crying from an afternoon nap after having Chinese listening and Math exams.
When I was in college, my fear of sleeping remained, with an addition of more frequent and intense nightmares. One night I couldn’t escape from seeing a doppelgänger of myself attempting to kill me with a knife in a dream within similar dreams while being consciously awake. In other words, I surreally felt the pain and shock of being killed by another self with a poker face. Ever since then even the thought of sleeping itself was a complete nightmare, and I decided to seek professional help.
I had my first therapy at the counseling and psychological services center on campus on May 12, 2015, followed by another two appointments within the same month. I also found a psychologist who speaks Cantonese in the end of May, the day my friends and I had group graduation photoshoot. All of the professionals diagnosed me with anxiety and sleep disorders, highly possibly caused by my childhood memories, the upcoming graduation, and the unknown future after college. Will I get a job? Will I be able to remain in the States or have to move back home unwillingly? What’s ahead on my path? How will my life become after college? However back then I didn’t realize that having insomnia and nightmares consistently is a real problem, and I somehow stopped having therapy soon after graduation. I managed to take doses of Melatonin and drink neuroSLEEP to get myself off to bed directly and effectively. It did work like magic AT FIRST. I found this pre-sleep behavior somewhat became an addiction because I wouldn’t go to bed without having either of them, even when it didn’t make me sleep anymore a couple months later.
Sleeping has always been a luxury to me. I have experienced sleeping for 15 minutes ONLY and went to work. I also have experienced not sleeping at all for 70 hours and going out running errands numbly. I just cannot sleep. Even when I do sleep in reality, I wake up in the dream world. So I never quite consider myself capable of sleeping normally.
I decided to visit a professional almost a year later because my anxiety symptoms were affecting me so much that my long post-study-abroad-college life was gradually hijacked. I could hardly get up at 6 in the morning for work because I couldn’t sleep and was still crying helplessly at 5. I feared that my anxiety came back again; to be accurate, it’s never gone away. I was so exhausted and desperate that I put aside my teaching job irresponsibly, made numerous phone calls while still on the bed in the morning in the hope of finding a same-day appointment urgently. Not surprisingly I failed many times because all visits must be made by appointment only. But luckily in one of the calls the nurse said that she could make time for me in the afternoon on the day, and I immediately rushed to the clinic and met my psychiatrist, Dr. L for the first time.
She is a beautiful and friendly lady whose voice can already make you calm. During the first visit, I was so nervous and stuttered to describe my feelings toward not sleeping well and having terrifying nightmares all the time, and explain my physical symptoms like endless headache and diarrhea. I was soon diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. At first I was only on a small amount of medication treating anxiety. But as months went by, many depression symptoms appeared and the addition of Depression to my medical record horrified me.
My depression is partly genetic and mostly environmental. By environmental I’m referring to my surrounding family members and relatives, friends, things to do, and places to go. My parents especially my father didn’t quite believe or accept that I’m mentally ill in the beginning. Their actions of telling me I’m totally spoiled to be not working and making excuses for my ‘so-called anxiety,’ and financially stopped supporting my medical fees had worsened the whole situation, tremendously. They didn’t see how desperate I wanted to get back my own life too. And that was when my depression began to grow significantly. But thanks to my sister’s understanding and her long and constant explanations to the family over the months, they’re now barely accepting it and coping with me. But I’m strongly unsure whether they’ll put me in that kind of situation again.Words are very powerful weapons; they come out from one’s mouth quickly, easily, and perhaps mindlessly, and the bloody truth is what’s been said cannot be erased. What’s happened during my journey can hardly be forgotten. Everything counts in my world, fortunately yet unfortunately.
Every support is sincerely appreciated. But almost all of my family’s and friends’ reactions only reflect that they have no understanding of what’s going on and knowledge of mental illness. Sayings like “you don’t look sick at all,” “oh god you look so fat and swelling now,” “pull yourself together,” “I’ve been worse than you,” “go volunteer and realize how lucky and grateful you already are,” or “your medication is only poisoning you” disappoint and hurt me; they’re like verbal attacks. Not knowing since when exactly then, I’ve been having numerous avoidance behaviors; it’s like locking all of your feelings and building walls and walls of self-protection.
To make it short, my depression is unstable despite the huge amount of prescription that even my doctor doesn’t want to increase anymore, and I’ve had three well-planned suicide attempts and countless uncontrollable racing thoughts to a point that my doctor suggested I’d be
hospitalized (This suggestion still freaks me out and will do forever I believe). Anyway, I promised my doctor I’ll try my best to stay alive and embrace self-compassion. I’m now battling day after day, and being alive for each more day is already so rewarding. However when the demons do show up, I feel like waiting to be executed willingly with open arms. My anxiety is now OKAY, but I’m still avoiding meeting people and going out on my own unless necessary. I couldn’t even pull myself together for once and attend my sister’s big wedding day. My sleeping problem will probably never be solved forever. Nightmares are always here with me even during a very short nap, and I’d recall 3-5 dreams or nightmares each morning when I wake up. And headache and diarrhea won’t seem to go away. I still cannot sleep. I’m beyond exhausted, but I’m hyper-functioning all the time.
Having experienced all these, I’m now a strong believer that anything is possible, just as everything is unpredictable. I’ll never say that I must win this time because nothing can ever be guaranteed. But I’m not giving up. I’m still here, still jobless, still anxious and depressed, and yes I’m still blogging (Yay! which I consider a self-unemployed job).
Do what you want now, for you’ll never know whether you’ll have the chance to do it later.
Thank you very much.
Late Afternoon 11.28.2016