Masked Maladies

Not everything in this world is explainable, but for me, there are always reasons somehow.

Years of crying, years of longing… but for what?

The whole time I was crying, alone in my room. I grew up that way. Definitely, nobody else could
see that. I was afraid to let others know, I was too afraid they won’t understand. As they can see, my
life was almost perfect; beauty, peace and harmony surround me.

Nobody is perfect. There’s one little flaw in my youth. I was asthmatic. Dust, physical and emotional
stress were the “triggers” of my sickness. As it is hereditary, it runs in the family. My father had it
when he was young. I had it first when I was 6 months old. Going to the hospital for consultation &
medication were once the only ways to cure my asthma attacks. It was a hassle and a waste of time
& money. Thankfully, my aunt bought a nebulizer for me. Since then, my parents won’t anymore
bring me to the hospital; instead, they just bought “nebules” of medication. In my case, they had to
buy the more expensive ones, as if they would buy the cheaper ones, the cure won’t get any better.

My young and frail body was exposed to medicine.

When I was still in grade 1, I was struck by dengue with encephalitis (inflammation of the brain), I
was in the ICU for 3 days, unconscious, as they said. I had seizures, so I was treated with “Valium”
(diazepam). After I gained back my consciousness, I forgot everything, even my own name. At least
it was just a reactive shock, for the dosages and for the fact that my brain was affected, too. I had
long term memory loss, forgetting events prior to that; pictures, stories, and people brought me
back to time, and after that I easily forget things that I can’t remember much unless I take down
notes.

When I was in the stage of recovery, my parents were advised to take me to the doctor for post
check-up visits. My parents thought that it would cost much so they decided not to take me there
anymore. They were also advised not to let me go back to school, but they let me continue…

School was fine. I was still able to cope with my studies and kept a good academic performance
when I was in grade school. But how come someone like me won’t have such “belief in myself”?
Throughout those years I experienced extensive crying inside my room alone. Actually, I was not
even in any form of abuse. People treat me good. I just have inner conflicts, which I couldn’t
comprehend.

I felt I was misplaced. I felt I was imprisoned. I felt I wasn’t free at all. Later, I ended up
misunderstood, so I remained silent. I became shy. I became more of a loner. I couldn’t get along
with the other teens. My high school years were much of pressure. The physical, emotional &
psychological stress may have brought me to the point of total confusion. My anxious thoughts
became more destructive, until it has beaten up the entirety of me. By then, I always feel guilty. I
never believed in myself. I felt I was poisoned by my own mind. No matter how hard I tried not to
cry, I can’t stop the flowing of tears from my eyes that sometimes I hold my breath because I
wanted to die. Reason? Still it wasn’t clear enough to me. Tears run down from my eyes every time.
Countless but various incidences led me to feelings of worthlessness, guilt, self-pity at times.

The best way to counteract a certain sickness is to defeat its root cause.

In my adolescence, I also spent time knowing how I came to be that way. Along the way I also met
and knew some people who felt just exactly the same as what I felt… but they had their own
reasons, which I didn’t have.

In prayers I speak, I still thank God for everything and I just asked for only one thing, peace of mind.
Even though I lost my self-belief, I never lost my faith in Him. I was in the depths of my disturbing
feelings during the lent season of 2011. It was Black Saturday when I decided to forcefully stop
myself from crying, but I wasn’t able to do so, it was even when I burst most of the tears. There I
tried to give myself a break and when I finally gave up- gave it up to the Lord. Since then, it was only
my faith that kept me going. It was the little hope in me that says, “I was given the second chance to
live, for a purpose, something I was yet to discover, someday, somehow, everything; the good and the
bad, is going to make sense.”

Maturity may have pushed me into thinking I wasn’t behaving normally at all. My lifetime was
already spent with endless crying. My thoughts were filled with negativity. At least there was still a
part of me saying that I must get to know “Why, oh, why have I become like this?”

I searched web pages about “excessive crying”, “saddening thoughts”, “low self-esteem”, etc., until I
came to a website about “cognitive behavioral therapy”. Taking some online tests, I learned I was
having a serious depression. It wasn’t anymore a mere emotional problem. It has developed into a
sickness. It was four years ago when I had my last asthma. I never had fever again, but during those
four years, I felt weak, I never had self-motivation, I was lousy, even clumsy. I didn’t have zeal. At
least the therapy helped me eliminate most of my negative thoughts & somehow made me feel
better. I had less crying but the feeling of self-defeat was still there.

We had this recollection in which I learned so much. After that I was able to reconcile with myself. It
was harder for me to forgive myself than anyone else. But there was still a missing piece. I still
spent moments of crying, though less frequent than before. I decided to take a counselling session
suggested by someone. There the priest told me that I must not isolate myself from the world. Then
I thought, “Am I really doing that?” In fact, I did, but it was the move I made as I was afraid to take a
lot of misunderstanding.

No matter how hard I tried, it was a burden to think of what could have been the root cause of my
endless self-induced suffering.

I kept on praying for an answer. The hope was still there. Spending my time praying every morning
and afternoon in the chapel for days, for weeks, I have regained my inner peace. To me, “idle
moments call for desperate actions”. Summer 2012 also became a thinking season for me. I got this
instinct of knowing more about “pain, depression, anxiety, etc.” leading me to an e-encyclopedia
article about “valium (diazepam)…
Valium (Diazepam), tranquilizer drug, used to treat anxiety and nervous tension. It
may also be used to treat acute alcohol withdrawal, insomnia, muscle spasms, and
certain types of seizures. Classified as a benzodiazepine, diazepam works by blocking
nerve activity in certain parts of the brain, producing a calming effect… Side effects
of this drug may include drowsiness, lightheadedness, fatigue, or poor muscle
coordination… Other side effects include blurred or double vision, confusion,
depression, dizziness, headache, slurred speech, nausea, constipation, skin rash, or
low blood pressure.

Microsoft ® Encarta ® 2009. © 1993-2008 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.

I remembered that distinct happening from the past. Yes, it was after my dengue that my thought
patterns changed. Anxiety developed in me over the years and maybe triggered by changing
environments and other external factors. As I can see, the excessive crying in my youth weren’t
petty, weren’t tantrums. Those were aftershocks of my afterlife. Maybe I might have died at the age
of six. I could have stopped school after I recovered, but I was pushed to move on. Maybe, I just had
to. It was ten years ago when it all began, and it was the past. I have to accept it. At least now I’m
very much thankful as I may not have learned to love if I was left stuck in that part of my life.

I don’t have those bright childhood memories. I don’t have those wonderful teenage years. I may
have a dark past, but I won’t regret anything. I won’t blame anything or anyone for as my
understanding came to me, I’ll consider the root cause as “physiological”. Years of medication for
my asthma, or the “Valium” for my seizures, for whatever the cause is, I now realize that I have to
accept it. It happened for a reason.

I must be thankful for the present. It’s a gift. Even most of my years were wasted; I am now able to
see some light.

Oh, right. Call me psycho, call me weak, call me a loner, and call me whatever else you want to,
because I am. It is ok, but I now I’m also a victim.

I thank those who drove me away because you have shown me I can be self-sufficient at times. I
thank those who misunderstood me because I was then able to seek for true friends. I thank those
who listened even though I was difficult to understand. I thank those who stayed behind me no
matter what.

I’m sorry for those I might have hurt before, especially those I have driven away. I wasn’t able to
befriend my own self and so I was afraid that understanding me might get to your nerves then you’ll
leave me as well as what others did.

Drizzles, rains, storms, thunderstorms, and typhoons; weather changed as much as my mood. So many
tears rolled from my eyes. So many raindrops fell from the skies. But after all, here comes the sun, the
rainbow, and the brighter tomorrow. The sky is indeed my fellow.