After several weeks of having therapy and ugly cries at sessions, I felt okay. At least I thought I was okay, but I was wrong. My therapist told me that my mood was still low — I was crying the whole session and having difficulty explaining my thoughts. But I expected it because depression isn’t something you can just “snap out of” after several weeks of drinking meds.

I got diagnosed with major depressive disorder and anxiety early of January. It has been an endless battle of sleepless nights — spiraling thoughts, ruminating, aches and pains, several crying episodes and missing school days. I was literally at my lowest — what most don’t realize is that depression isn’t just a mental illness, it’s also physical. I felt so tired all the time, even with a simple activity such as walking from my dorm to school (which was just across each other) made me really exhausted. My mood was really low, nothing could cheer me up. I barely talked to my friends because listening and keeping up with the conversation was overwhelming and tiring. I barely ate — the most I’d eat were two meals per day and not even a whole meal. I was always in bed, listening to music to turn down the noise in my head.

Life was awful and colorless. I felt like a ghost passing through time — merely surviving and just getting through the day. I didn’t get to enjoy anything, even watching a movie or being with people was simply not fun anymore. In short, I felt like life was pointless. There was no point for me to live anymore because everything was just dull and dark. It’s like walking through a dark tunnel, not knowing if you’ll find light at the end.

But things didn’t get easier after several weeks and months of therapy. I thought that after therapy, I’d get better, or that my life would return to normal. But now, I don’t even know what normal is. When I feel lighter than usual, I ask myself, “is this what being normal is?” I mourned the person I was before depression. I mourned for the days that were brighter and clearer. I mourned for the person who can handle anything that’s given to her, because now, I’m the exact opposite of that.

There’s plenty of reasons to hate depression and most especially to hate yourself. There were countless moments I’d blame myself for everything, thinking that depression was my fault. But like what my therapist said, “It’s a medical condition, it’s a chemical imbalance in the brain. Though it’s in you, it’s not you”. There were even instances that I hated going to therapy because I felt like I was wasting my therapist’s time or that it’s not even working — the meds, the strategies, the coping tools. I would purposely not drink my meds because I was afraid they weren’t working or they were simply suppressing the inner pain I was feeling. I wanted the pain to be tangible, so I resorted to harming myself — which became addictive. Along with that came suicidal thoughts/ideation.

I always have this urge to inflict pain upon myself because I don’t believe that I deserve to be loved and ultimately, to heal. Whenever I see quotes about healing, self-care and self-love, I would automatically neglect it. I feel like I’m not worthy of healing or that it’s impossible. I’ve heard stories of friends and other people saying that things get better. I want to believe them, but it’s difficult. It’s impossible to have hope when you have a hopeless mind.

I want to heal, badly actually. But I guess healing is another journey for me. It’s not healing from the pain, but I guess accepting it for what it is. It’s not, not feeling pain or sadness, but having brighter days in between. Ultimately, it’s wanting healing for myself, despite being uncomfortable with it.

I’ve been in therapy for the past four months and I know that it’s going to be a long journey. But I’m grateful that I reached out for help. To be honest, if I didn’t I would have been gone now (I’m serious). For now, I’ll focus on making my mood stable and face it one day at a time. After all healing doesn’t happen overnight, it’s a journey we’re bound to discover. It’s a path we’re meant to choose and want for ourselves, because we all deserve it.

Today, my cousin passed away after suffering from depression, ADHD, anxiety and drug addiction. He overdosed on Xanax and morphine — with hopes of ending the pain inside him. I received the news from my mom because she knew I was the right person to tell. She knew I understood what he was going through — that suicide in the mind of depressives is an escape, an end to the pain we’re suffering from. Suicide is not an excuse or a call for attention, at times, it is the only way to have peace with ourselves.

As a person suffering from severe depression, I am deeply affected by my cousin’s passing. I do not blame him, but I empathize with him. I am relieved that he’s in a better place now and finally resting. I, too, struggle with suicidal thoughts often. I find myself thinking of ways to end my life just to make the thoughts stop and free myself from the intangible pain. What sucks about depression, mental illnesses in general, is that it’s invisible. Nobody knows what’s in your mind most of the time. You could be laughing from ear-to-ear or enjoying the company of others, but interiorly, you’re falling apart. It doesn’t mean that when someone looks happy, they are.

Depression is not an illness you can just “snap out of” or “pray for” and then it goes away. There is no happy pill or a magical remedy. It’s a lifetime illness that cripples and eats you from the inside. It’s an everyday battle with your mind, constantly telling you negative thoughts such as — you’re not good enough, you’re worthless, it’s your fault, you don’t deserve to be loved. It’s the kind that keeps you awake at night, analyzing every action and decision you’ve made in the past thinking that all of it was a mistake.

Having depression is like carrying an umbrella everywhere waiting for the rain or having a dark cloud above you. It’s literally seeing the world gray as if all of life’s color has been washed away. It’s constantly battling with yourself everyday — more like, living the worst day of your life repeatedly.

Sometimes, it’s faking a smile or trying to keep yourself busy only to find yourself breaking down in the bathroom floor at the end of the day. Some days, it’s finding yourself crying constantly until your eyes hurt or sometimes, feeling numb like a rock. It’s not tasting the good in food and eating simply becomes a means for survival or binge eating to ease the pain inside. It’s reading a book and getting stuck in the same line, realizing you actually don’t understand it. It’s watching a movie without enjoying it. I remember opting to watch horror movies instead of the usual rom-com just to be able to feel something.

Depression makes you feel not only lonely, but alone. It’s achingly painful how much you want company — a hug from a friend or family, but at the same time, being suffocated by their presence. It’s feeling alone in a room with your favorite people. Sometimes, it’s pushing people away to protect them from your depressed self.
It’s sitting quietly in the dinner table, having an internal argument with yourself whether you should speak or not because you’re afraid you might say something wrong or that it won’t matter. Sometimes it’s just listening to your friends and family’s conversations trying to follow and understand them.

Depression also makes you physically fatigued. The most difficult part of the day is getting out of bed. You feel like there’s a massive weight in your chest and your legs have lead — everything is heavy. It’s constantly having a heavy heart and a lump in your throat — the sensation you feel when you hold back tears and it continues to grow even when you swallow it down. You haven’t started the day and you’re already tired. Sometimes, when the sun rises, that’s the only time you’ll be able to sleep after tirelessly ruminating the entire night. Somedays, you won’t even get any sleep at all, it’s already a miracle to sleep for three hours.

Battling with depression makes you realize how long the seconds, minutes and hours of everyday are. Everyday, your only goal is to get through the day and make it out alive. But there are days too that you wish you didn’t have to go through another. Everyday, I wished that I didn’t have to wake up or see another because I was so tired. And really, sometimes you just want to give up, to disappear — to escape.

Depression is not only a mental illness, it is also physical. It affects the entire person, our view of life, ourselves and our relationships. The stigma on mental illness pains me because only few people understand what we really go through. I just hope that people would make an effort to be educated on what it’s really about. At the end of the day, what we really need are people who are willing to listen and understand us.

Sometimes, encouraging words may help, but ensuring us your presence is more than enough. It’s the touch and the warmth of your love that will remind us that there are better days ahead.
I guess the reason why I’m heavily affected by my cousin’s passing is because I feel his pain. I know the struggle to survive everyday and not understand the reason why we have to or how difficult it is to keep your head above the water. I, too, long for that rest and peace.

Although he chose to rest, I know that, that is what he needed. I will forever be proud of the days he lived and his strength for pulling through. Depression is definitely not an easy battle. I cannot guarantee that I will win over it, but I will try to, for him.

I can barely remember what happy looks like. Ever since depression came, the lens I see life through is black. I can’t explain what that means, but picture this: seeing moments of your life faded and gloomy. The happy days like 7th birthdays, birth of a sibling, wedding or any memory look and feel gray. It’s like seeing old photographs of long-forgotten events, but what remains is that nostalgic feeling that those are just memories.

That’s what living with depression feels like. Life — that is so diverse and colorful, suddenly becomes so bleak. It’s difficult to distinguish black from white because in the eyes of a depressive, everything is just black. What you used to look forward to, such as plans, dreams, and goals all become too far away to reach. Soon, you forget about them and they become pointless. When you have depression, it feels like being a ghost — passing through walls and not really knowing where you’re headed. You come across different paths but at the end of the day, you find yourself lost and trapped. But mostly, you don’t really know what life has in store for you. Like how J.K. Rowling described it — depression is like a dementor that sucks the life out of you, leaving you not only with sadness or despair, but empty and without hope.

I never knew my life would change drastically after being succumbed by depression. Recalling happy days is an effort rather than something natural. It’s like looking through murky water — blurry and disfigured, failing to find what you’re looking for. Living became a challenge, a daily battle you have to conquer. Everyday, you fight the negative thoughts in your mind — hoping that at this particular moment, they don’t win. But unfortunately, not all battles are won, because most days, depression wins and you’re left spiraling again and the cycle repeats itself.

It is tiring to pull yourself out of its shell over and over again. After getting back up, you see depression at the corner of your eye, waiting for it to embrace you in its arms. Sometimes, you don’t fight anymore to get out because depression will always be in your life anyway. I know some people heal and are in a better place despite depression. But mental illness is a lifelong battle we carry with us throughout our existence. Depression comes in a certain time in our life, leaves briefly, but comes back right after.

Sometimes, we’re lucky to have brief moments of bright and lighter days — which we try to hold on to when the black dog comes back. We try to tuck in our dreams the good old days when life was beautiful and we were happy. We try to fit those moments into our tainted memory, hoping that that would be enough to offer us hope to live again. Some days, we try to recall again what happy feels like such as allowing ourselves to laugh a little louder or by simply smiling. But we know that those efforts are not enough to banish the black dog because everywhere we go, it follows.

So, how does healing look like for us depressives? At this point, honestly, I am still trying to figure it out. I’m not the best person to ask because I’ve only began in this battle. But as far as I know, healing for me, entails having small victories everyday — getting out of bed, showering, eating and staying alive. At first, I thought those were easy, but to tell you the truth, it is so difficult. I learned that for healing to truly happen, we have to want and choose it for ourselves. Now, I’m still journeying through choosing it for myself and believing that I deserve it.

I think that every depressive battles with choosing healing for themselves. We often think that we don’t deserve enough or the good because of the person depression has caused us to become. Depression distorts how we see ourselves — we don’t remember who we are before and after the illness. All we see is a shadow of ourself — broken and lost. Thus, we always find a way to blame ourselves for our pain. We fail to see that we’re good people who deserve a chance at life as much as everyone else. We see ourselves as a burden, someone not worthy of being loved and cared for. And its true, sometimes we choose to just disappear and escape from the world. We listen to the thoughts — the lies, and give ourselves what we believe we deserve because we’re just so damn tired.

But no matter how difficult everyday gets, we try to fight a little harder, even if fighting is the only way we know. But fighting gets exhausting too, especially since we’ve been doing it our whole life. If ever we do choose to lose, we hope that you remember us for the days we’ve conquered and not for the battle we failed to win. After all, life isn’t just about the happy moments or how vividly we remember wearing that smile. It’s also about the struggle and pain in between — a reality we’ve learned to realize and accept through our illness.

The other day I had a video call with a stranger. Well, she’s not really a stranger because I know her name, but nonetheless, she’s a stranger (to me, at least) because we’ve never met. I had the sudden urge to talk to someone else aside from my family and friends because I wanted to experience what it would be like to talk to someone about the thoughts circling in my head. I wanted someone different for a change — hoping that it would be easier for me to say the things I want to.

The first five minutes of the call were silent. My throat started getting heavy and I felt anxiety creep up on me. At that moment, all the things I wanted to say disappeared and I was speechless. I kept rambling, trying to excuse myself, just so that I could fill up the deafening silence between us. I wanted to retreat and bury myself in my bed, but there’s no turning back. So I mustered all that I could and initiated the conversation (since I was the one who asked for it). Half the time, I didn’t understand what I was saying and didn’t even know where my purpose for sharing it was going. I felt so disappointed in myself because I couldn’t muster up the courage to say the things I wanted to.

It’s an aching feeling — to be held back from saying something you desperately want to. The thoughts continue to circle your mind, sometimes, they’re screaming right at you. You feel it at the tip of your tongue, but instead, you swallow it back into your system until it becomes impossible for you to say it. I don’t know if it was just my anxiety and depression making me create a wall between connecting, but maybe it’s also the effect of this pandemic.

During the first few months of quarantine, I was relieved and happy to be home — no outside stressors and a break from the daily grind. But as the days turned into weeks and those turned into months, I felt loneliness descend upon me. It’s terrifying how I can feel it in my bones — in the heaviness of my limbs whenever I try to get up from my bed and start the day. It’s also in my worn out shoulders that carry everyday’s burden and my strained eyes from the 24/7 exposure to online screens.

I felt depression in the corner of my room, slowly re-inserting itself and making its presence felt. I wasn’t surprised but nonetheless, I was disappointed. The thing about the new normal or being in constant isolation is it makes you feel invisible or you don’t occupy space. It becomes more difficult to see and acknowledge your efforts and accomplishments because of the lack of physical interaction. No matter how much you try to reach out to your friends and colleagues or simply do work, it feels as if it’s not enough. There’s not that much outside validation, feedback, and interaction you receive aside from comments and reactions in your post.

If there’s one thing I’ve realized for the past 211 days of quarantine, it’s that nothing can replace human touch. As much as how lonely and hopeless I’ve become inside the shell of my own depression, I’m growing to realize that people around the world feel it too. We just don’t admit or recognize it, but deep inside, we’re terribly lonely. We miss the outside world — walking in the streets while admiring everyday sceneries, hugging friends and hanging out, traveling, watching movies in the cinema, breathing the air, or simply holding hands with our loved ones.

It’s the physical touch of the world, of each other that we deeply miss — and nothing can replace that. It’s what makes us feel alive, seen and valued. It’s what allows us to not have guilt for filling in a space in the room. It was all these things that I yearned for when I had a call with that stranger. I realized how much I wanted to be understood, held and comforted. I wanted to be needed and remembered because slowly, I was feeling invisible and small. I wanted someone — even a stranger, to make me feel alive and remind me that I am awake, I am here.

As I’m writing down these thoughts, I’ve grown to realize how all of us yearn for this too. For the first time, we’re all on the same page. I’m just trying to remind myself amidst this despair and loneliness I feel because of my mental illness that I am not alone. Somewhere in the middle of the world, another person is feeling small and invisible too. Maybe, that stranger I was speaking to, was also yearning for connection and longing to be found.

My mind still can’t fathom how difficult connection has become for us because of the new normal. I’m learning to believe and see how life-altering this year has been for all of us. Despite the countless events that occurred this year, it reminds us how desperately we want to live. I believe these past eight months have been days of growth and self-reflection — of being awakened and re-awakened into the life we were born. It sure wasn’t easy and will continue to not be, but for the first time, I’m accepting that fact. I hope you will too. I can’t wait for the day we will all step outside and meet the world with our new pair of lenses. Just hang in there, stranger or should I say, friend. We will see each other again, soon.

May mga lugar sa mundo na pansamantalang tinitigilan ngunit iilan ang itinuturing tahanan. May mga tao tayong nakakasalubong sa daan ngunit iilan lang ang nananatili panghabambuhay. Ipininta ni Cathy Garcia Molina sa pelikulang, Hello, Love, Goodbye ang karanasan ng mga OFW sa Hong Kong. Inilantad ang buhay nina Joy (Kathryn Bernardo) isang domestic helper at Ethan (Alden Richards) isang bartender. Matutuklasang magkaiba ang pananaw nina Joy at Ethan sa buhay. Inilarawan si Joy bilang tipikal na OFW nagsusumikap kumita para sa pamilya - suma-sideline sa Central tuwing Linggo, nagbebenta ng iba’t ibang produkto katulad ng powerbank (kahit ilegal) at nagtatrabaho bilang domestic helper. Lahat ito, pinagsasabay niya upang makaipon din ng pera papuntang Canada. Kabaligtaran naman si Ethan dahil sa kanyang pagiging happy-go-lucky tila, walang direksyon sa buhay.

Hindi naglaon, kinailangan ni Joy pumili: pangarap o pag-ibig? Bagamat nakahanap siya ng pagmamahal at nahanap ang sarili, pinili niyang ipagpatuloy ang pangarap maging nars sa Canada. Kahit maiksi ang kanilang pagsasama, pinatunayan nilang hindi imposibleng magmahal. Walang sukat ang pagmamahal sa loob ng mundong puno ng alinlangan. Higit sa lahat, pinatunayan ng pelikula ang misteryo ng buhay - hindi ito nagtatapos sa paalam ngunit nagsisilbing daan para sa isang bagong simula.

Katumbas ng bawat desisyon ang isang kapalit. Hindi lahat ng bagay sa mundo maaring piliin dahil may mga bagay na kusang ipinagpapalit at binibitawan. Sabi nga ng iilan, maihahalintulad ang buhay sa kalsada. Maraming pasikot-sikot at maaring puntahan ngunit iisa lang ang destinasyon. Lahat tayo, may kanya-kanyang tinatahak na landas sa buhay ngunit hindi sa lahat ng pagkakataon, alam natin ang tamang daan. Minsan, naliligaw at nawawala tayo, tinatantya ang bawat kilos upang makabalik sa patutunguhan.

Malinaw na inilarawan ang kalsada bilang buhay sa pelikulang Hazard ni Mikhail Red. Umikot ang kwento sa relasyon ng mag-ama habang tinuturuan ni Archi (Archie Adamos) ang kanyang anak na lalaki (Byron Manasan) paano magmaneho. Sabi ni Archi, sa pagmamaneho, kailangang maging maingat at huwag magmadali dahil puno ng alinlangan ang kalsada. Kailangan marunong magbanta at gamitin ang hazard bilang signal sa mga pagkakataong kinakailangan. Sa kanilang pasikot-sikot sa libilib na siyudad, may natagpuan silang kotse na naglalaman ng patay na lalaki. Matagal na nagtalo ang mag-ama sa kung anong gagawin sa bangkay. Hindi naglaon, nasunod ang plano ni Archi sa pangangatwirang siya ang matanda at mas nakakaalam sa sitwasyon.

Sa likod ng kamera

Hindi pangkaraniwan ang ginamit na pagsasalaysay ni Red sa kwento ng mag-ama. Sa una pa lang na eksena, may ikinukubli nang misteryo ang pelikula. Mapapansin ito sa relasyon ni Archi at ng binata dahil hindi sila nagkakasundo sa maraming bagay at magkaiba ng paniniwala sa buhay. Tila sa mismong pananaw tungkol sa pagmamaneho ng kotse, hindi nagkakaisa ang dalawa. Maliban sa relasyon ng mag-ama, malaki rin ang impluwensya ng ginamit na lokasyon para sa pelikula. Naglakbay ang dalawa papunta sa isang liblib na lugar - walang tao rito, puro talahib at taniman ang makikita sa paligid. Kaya’t sa mata ng manonood, nakapagtataka kung bakit sa dinami-raming lugar, ito ang napiling lugar ni Archi para turuang magmaneho ang kanyang anak. Kapansin-pansin din ang paggamit ni Red ng black at white na estilo sa pelikula. Ito ang nagbalot ng misteryo at nagtakda sa magiging tono ng pelikula. Sa pagbubukas pa lang ng pelikula, madadama na isa itong drama sapagkat seryoso ang tono at paksa ng pag-uusap ng mag-ama.

Ayon sa ilang manlilikha ng pelikula, ginagamit ang black at white na estilo upang mapakita ang pagbabalanse ng light at shade. Mapapansin ang contrast ng dalawang ito mula sa pagpoposisyon ng mga artista. Karaniwang nilalagay si Archi sa bahagi na may shade, upang ipakita ang misteryong dinadala ng kanyang karakter, habang nakatutok o nasisilawan ng ilaw ang kanyang anak dahil lantarang ipinapakita ang kanyang pananaw sa sitwasyon. Isang istratehiya rin ito ni Red upang ipakita ang contrast o pagkakaiba ng dalawang personalidad - na may mas malalim na pinatutunguhan sa huli ng pelikula. Maliban sa pagsisiwalat ng contrast, ginamit din ang black at white upang bigyang pokus ang nilalaman o mismong kwento ng pelikula. Dahil walang ibang kulay na ginamit, natutulungan nitong pagtuunan ng pansin ng mga manonood ang dalawang karakter at ang pag-uusap nila.

Ayon sa ilang manlilikha ng pelikula, ginagamit ang black at white na estilo upang mapakita ang pagbabalanse ng light at shade. Mapapansin ang contrast ng dalawang ito mula sa pagpoposisyon ng mga artista. Karaniwang nilalagay si Archi sa bahagi na may shade, upang ipakita ang misteryong dinadala ng kanyang karakter, habang nakatutok o nasisilawan ng ilaw ang kanyang anak dahil lantarang ipinapakita ang kanyang pananaw sa sitwasyon. Isang istratehiya rin ito ni Red upang ipakita ang contrast o pagkakaiba ng dalawang personalidad - na may mas malalim na pinatutunguhan sa huli ng pelikula. Maliban sa pagsisiwalat ng contrast, ginamit din ang black at white upang bigyang pokus ang nilalaman o mismong kwento ng pelikula. Dahil walang ibang kulay na ginamit, natutulungan nitong pagtuunan ng pansin ng mga manonood ang dalawang karakter at ang pag-uusap nila.

Kilala si Rolando Tolentino bilang batikang manunulat, manlilikha, propesor at dalubhasa sa larangan ng Mass Communication. Bilang mag-aaral ng Philippine Studies, mapalad akong mabasa ang kanyang mga sulatin at artikulo. Masaya akong matunghayan ang kritiko at rebyung ginawa niya sa pelikulang, Ang Nawawala ni Marie Jamora. Iba ang estilong ginamit ni Tolentino kumpara sa pormal na pagsusulat. Tila, sa pagbabasa ng kanyang blog na pinamagatang, Burgis na juvenalia, review of Ang Nawawala, natuklasan kong isang pangkaraniwang tao rin lang siya, katulad kong tumatangkilik at nanonood ng mga pelikulang Pilipino.

Sa katunayan, hindi ko pa napapanood ang pelikula, ngunit sa pagbabasa ng kritiko at rebyu ni Tolentino, nakuha ko ang pangunahing tema, mensahe at paksa ng pelikula. Bagamat gusto ko rin madanas at mapanood ang pelikula ni Jamora, isasantabi ko muna iyon para sa ibang pagkakataon. Sa ngayon, masasabi kong sapat na ang mga ideya at perspektibong inilatag ni Tolentino para pagnilayan ang pelikula. May ilang siyang inilatag na konsepto katulad ng nakatataas na uring maykaya na nakapokus sa mga kabataang pribilehiyo. Nakatuon ang pelikula para sa mga kabataang manonood dahil sa ginamit na naratibo, estilo ng cinematograpiya at paglalangkap ng musikang indie.

Matapos mapanood ang trailer at basahin ang kritiko ni Tolentino, kahawig ang kuwento, karakter at bihis ng pelikula sa dayuhang pelikula, The Perks of Being a Wallflower ni Stephen Chbosky. Umiinog din ito sa kabataang pribilehiyo at pagtuklas sa sarili at papel sa mundo ng pangunahing tauhan sa pamamagitan ng pagharap sa tinatakasang problema. Iba ang pormang ginamit ni Tolentino sa kanyang rebyu ng pelikula sapagkat mas binigyang pokus niya ang mga konseptong inilantad imbis sa pagbibigay kritisismo sa produksyon, tema, cinematograpiya, lighting, at musika. Binanggit niya ang mga elemento nang pahapyaw at iniugnay sa konsepto ng pribilehiyadong uri kung saan ginamit ang cinematograpiya at musika bilang pabango at palamuti ng pelikula.

Sa aspektong ito, sumasang-ayon akong na-romanticize ang buhay ng pribilehiyadong uri dahil maaring nalunod sa mga imaheng ito ang substansya ng pelikula. Tila, ginamit ng direktor ang elemento ng pelikula para ilarawan ang klase ng mundo at buhay ng isang kabataang maykaya. Sa aking palagay, walang masama mag-eksperimento at paglaruan ang paglikha ng pelikula sapagkat sa paraang ito, nagiging mas malikhain at awtentiko ang mga pelikula. Bagamat sinuri ni Tolentino ang pelikula sa lente ng kanyang henerasyon, marapat na balansehin din ito sa paggamit ng lente ng mga kabataan.