You don’t really need to hear any of my stories, but for after almost two decades of living - and trying to exist - in this complex world of ours, I have come to realize that our experiences, the good and the bad, are meant to be shared and written, meant to be weaved into beautiful stories such as this. This is Teressa Montenegro; to my family, this is Bambam; to the rest of my circle of friends, this is Mama Rae; and here is my #BreakTheSilence story.
Almost three years ago, I have been diagnosed with major depressive disorder and generalized anxiety disorder. In addition to this, I am thought to also exhibit symptoms of borderline personality disorder today, with and under careful observation and psychological tests during recent therapy sessions. I could say it must have begun in the beginning, the moment of my birth - as most mental illnesses are brought about in the parapsychological way (inherited) - or I could say it must have begun during my endings, at the finishing years of my childhood, the pre-teens, when problems at home and pressures at school were arising simultaneously in the most intense manner. But however it begun, I have often come to conclude that it has been there all along, right from the very start. It was not formed nor was it created from scratch, rather, it was developed.
There are a lot of root causes of my conditions and I could list them all in one binder if I could. But disclosing them would also mean disclosing the people who have caused me harm and emotional abuse until today - and that isn’t always the right thing to do. One of the most common phrases that I tell my doctors, therapists, and counselors is this: “I lack validation from that important person, so I keep looking for that validation from other people.”
I am the most considerate person you will ever meet and my friends know this most of all. I’ve got the softest heart, even for strangers. So when I lose people, I lose myself. When people leave, I tend to literally leave as well. Automatic negative thoughts run through my head. Internal revolutions go about. Including suicide thoughts.
On the 27th of April, I was rushed to the emergency room after having swallowed 30 tablets of escitalopram (my anti-depressants). It was declared a suicide attempt due to drug overdose.
Now this is where I know I’m going to get judged, criticized, and talked about. My family, the Wongs and the Montenegros, will probably scold me after this, will probably tell me to “choose only what to share.” I do. I do choose. And I choose to let people know that we all have battles to face every day, but we are not and will never be alone.
My family will tell me that this is a mortal sin. I guess it is. Reading this, they might probably be calling my mom or my dad and cursing them. But this isn’t their fault. It is mine. I chose to do suicide. It was all in my free will. Yes, it could be the demons inside me, but no, that doesn’t mean I’m the baddest, most selfish person in the world. I was triggered, I was at the peak of my emotions, and all of a sudden my mind has shut down and I chose to do what I thought was the only option.
I’m not that religious anymore, but I know that God is good. He’s the kindest, the most merciful. He has given me now a second life. A second chance. And I am beyond grateful. From this day forward, I offer all to him and will do everything in my power to serve him in anything that I do. Sometimes, most of the time, I would think that I never deserved God. Or that I never truly deserved to have been given another chance to live. But I’m human. And what I love most about human beings are their flaws. We are created by God perfectly with imperfections. I am flawed. I sin. I am capable to do more bad things. But I am also created by God to grow, to learn. To mature like a tree and to bloom like a flower. Change is indeed the only constant thing in life and I know I am capable of changing for the better.
We all deserve nothing but love. We are made by God’s unending love for us to love and to be loved.
I asked a wise friend of mine if God has forgiven me for the cuts on my wrists and my thighs and all she said was “God already had scars for you, Rae. You don’t need to hurt yourself anymore.” I cried because I felt that.
Today I am recovering, healing, and doing nothing but moving forward. I am learning from my past, using it as my compass to cross the seas and withstand the storms that I know the future holds. I have my family and my friends as my anchor. I know that when I am tired, I can rest my head on their shoulders. I can cry. After that, I can go back to sailing this ship again on my own - because no one else can man the boat of life other than myself, no one else can heal me and fix me other than myself.
No one else can love me the way I deserve to be loved other than myself.
I have been going consistently to my therapy sessions, taking my medications (I haven’t missed a day!), and waiting to visit my psychiatrist again on the 30th.
But everything is costly and I am not rich. My parents still have lots of other expenses to focus on like my education. I don’t really ask often from other people, but today, from the bottom of my heart, I am asking for donations to support for my mental health funds. To my ninongs and ninangs, please do not feel obliged. To anyone at all, do not feel obliged.
You can donate through here or contact me through Messenger or my phone number (09166555306).
This is Teressa Montenegro; to my family, this is Bambam; to the rest of my circle of friends, this is Mama Rae; and here is my #BreakTheSilence story.