I have been treated for more than two scores of years, but even before that, I already knew I was suffering from this illness, which doctors say is genetic. I knew that I was sick then because I felt I never belonged. I felt misplaced and displaced and did not seem to fit with any company, despite the fact that I was a model student who graduated valedictorian from elementary and high school and was consistently on the dean’s list through college. Even now, wherever there are people, sometimes I still feel out of place.
I always marvel at how some people can start a conversation, because I am always at a loss for words. It was my ambition to talk naturally and carry a conversation. Needless to say, I was friendless in school. My classmates approached me mainly to copy my homework.
Being the youngest in the family, I was spared from doing household chores. I had all the time to study. I did not play like other children, as I did not have peers to play with. I lived an isolated life, hardly mingling with anyone.
I was good at memorizing and was bookish. My pastimes consisted of reading, writing, watching movies, doing handicrafts and praying. I was fond of movies and my role models were the heroes and heroines portrayed by actors and actresses. I was fond of singing – but only in the bathroom. Most of the time, I did nothing. I was always lethargic. I had two or three friends in high school and I dared not go anywhere other than school without them for I felt so insecure and unsafe.
I became religious since I had nowhere else to go but to church. But I believed the Sisters who taught us to pray. My piety was born out of faith and fear — belief in God and fear of hellfire. I also believed I could avert misfortune by praying. I have come to rely so much on prayer.
When I was 24, the inevitable happened. I had a nervous breakdown, caused by too much pent-up feelings, unresolved thoughts and no one to confide in. I had been out of work for a year. I felt I was going into a frenzy and die. I was afraid to die because I felt like one of the five foolish virgins in the Bible who did not fill their lamps with oil or like the unfruitful servant who hid his one talent in the ground because he was afraid of losing it. I dreaded to hear what the Lord would say: "I do not know you." For truly, I realized I had not accomplished anything that would merit heaven. I did nothing, felt useless and was restless. When my late eldest sister suggested that I see a psychiatrist, I readily consented.
My seeing a psychiatrist and undergoing chemotherapy, electro-convulsive therapy and psychotherapy changed everything. Never confiding in anyone before, I learned to verbalize. My sisters gave a ready ear.
I discovered that I have an abnormality that makes me think and feel differently from most people. This realization gives me relief for I find I have an option – to be normal like other people. In order to change my frame of mind, I’ve had to take medicines continuously. Without them, I get out of touch and lose my sense of propriety. Gradually, I began to lead a semblance of a normal life. But when I stopped my medications, I would have a relapse. The medicines are very expensive. They have many adverse side effects, which are sometimes as bad as the disease itself, like constipation, a bloated belly, somnolence, salivation, deafness and a feeling of uneasiness and heaviness. But one of my doctors said taking medications is the lesser of two evils.
I do not have visual or auditory hallucinations but did suffer from delusion and paranoia. I used to be suspicious but now, I think more kindly of people and am well-disposed towards them. I had difficulty having eye contact before, but with the candidness and transparency that I have developed, I find I have nothing to hide and always look a person in the eye when I talk.
My capacity to deal with the different situations in life is inadequate. I become weary of constantly exerting effort to do the same things day after day and fear I cannot tackle the most ordinary everyday activities, like taking a bath, brushing my teeth or washing my clothes. I feel I cannot cope with the vicissitudes of life and see no point in everything. I am filled with despondency and despair, and wish I were dead. I have a death wish but am afraid of going to hell. Besides, killing one’s self is very messy. In this case, prayer is the only recourse. I am stressed about future actions and events. But with prayer, I am able to overcome.
Keeping a semblance of a normal life means finding a place for one’s self in the sun. It means being aware of one’s responsibilities and duties, which make one part of the milieu. It calls for a continuing effort to do something useful – even small things like making one’s bed, sweeping the floor, washing the dishes, watering the plants, keeping one’s self busy with some handicraft like crocheting, or even praying. It means being ever vigilant and alert and attuned to one’s environment. It means not being too wrapped up in something like pleasure, ease or comfort that would divert one from doing what one has to do. It means not leaving undone what one has to do, otherwise, one would feel unfulfilled and be prone to depression. Having a sense of accomplishment is very important.
I have excessive phobia of dirt. It used to take me one hour to take a bath. I compulsively keep washing my hands with soap so that they’ve become wrinkled and dry and my sister, who supports and takes care of me, is complaining about our water bill.
For 22 years, I worked in a department in a hospital, the last 10 years as head. I was all right as a subordinate but as head, I had to make decisions and couldn’t cope. There was a retrenchment in the hospital at the time and I was one of those asked to retire.
Often, I wish I had more skills for I feel so helpless at not knowing how to do most things. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks but I can always try my best. God does not ask us to do more than our best.
My love life is nil. I was courted by three men but never had a boyfriend. I did not know how to deal with a relationship. I dare not imagine what the future will be. But after all, I am 65 and now is the future, which is not as bad as I thought it would be. I claim that verse in Scriptures that goes: "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." (Matt. 6:34)