A photo from 2017. Wish I can tell her, it's not your fault and you're stronger than you think you are

It's time to forgive yourself, I told myself during quarantine.

Basically, I've been telling myself this for years but I stored that urge of needing to get in terms of what I experienced because that process involved something I had to relive consciously, which was still a painful thing to even bring up.

But when an unexpected emotional relapse happened earlier this year because of being reminded of a past, with bouts of breakdowns at night and watching the person I first dated seriously in years walk away a few months back because he couldn't quite handle some of my breakdowns I never quite explained, I felt devastated.

I haven't spoken to a counselor since I was a fresh grad, because prior to me starting to work I was consistent with my therapy and my medication I was on then. I made sure I faced the real world knowing I did treatment well. I had improvements until I was told that I was well enough to not rely on my medicine anymore. I learned along the way healthy ways of coping my emotions.

Speaking to the counselor on the phone nearly two months ago, a start of many nights of puzzling what I should have long fixed, I knew I wasn't as helpless as I was a few years ago. It's not like I tried taking my own life nor I'm deliberately ruining it. However, I already felt something was wrong, unsettled.

So what about the past made me so afraid to accept it and fear for the future ?

I hated my mind because there were some few times it would just punish me with all the past trauma. I've seen so much improvement the past three years and not even myself expected that I'll be back to this original square of how I feel guilty over so many things.

I coped with pushing myself to do things. I got involved with getting active and watching lots of gigs in order to lift my spirits. When I graduated, I immersed myself in my work. Since I also earned money, it's easy for me to treat myself somewhere nice or leave the house when I wanted to.

Some moments I was stuck immobile in the house, I even had something to do such as writing literature, reading books, watching shows.

Yet there were moments within those three years, an extreme rarity, where I was stuck with my mind and I remember everything and just cry all over again.

And funny how this quarantine made those thoughts, thoughts of never forgiving myself and having that guilt with whatever bad thing is happening around me, much more magnified.

I wondered, why was it much more magnified this year? After a year of treatment and then another two years of functioning well, of normal interactions, of not even lashing out at people. Why did this relapse happen when I least expected it? After 3 years? Just when I'm ready to settle with someone?

Funny how I forgave people last year I never thought I'd forgive ever yet here I am, still not able to forgive myself. There is always that feeling of me having the fault in whatever I experienced, whatever I put people around me through. That there were moments in life I wished I deleted or erased so I'd feel like I had no baggage.

 I hated that word: baggage. It's negative, and the actual baggage a person carries is often ridiculed and emphasized even if the person 99% of the time functions normally, yet they're defined by society by their baggage carried. There's a stigma to people like that, that they're toxic. I hated it because I had my own burden of thoughts brought by wicked experiences, does that make me a "toxic" person?

The counselor assured me I'm not. The people around me assured me I'm not. Just because a relapse happened, the improvement was not valid. And just because I was able to get stronger from a past experience doesn't mean it won't make me cry sometimes.

I'm doing great, they say. I'm doing amazing.

But yet, the guilt. Why was it still there? I tearfully asked. Why was I still mad at myself for everything?

"Why didn't you share it sooner?" The calm-sounding lady asked me.

"I didn't want to worry people around me. I didn't want to seem like it still holds heavily on me after so long." It really wasn't my thing to share my emotions. I knew it's my business to deal and I've always known how to handle it anyway so I just kept it in.

"You know, that's not toxic. At all."

But the more things get kept in, it will pile....and pile....and then burst. Boy, did I learn that the hard way. Yet still, not diabolical. It's just some people need a little assistance on how to deal especially when they don't intend to hurt or worry with something as complex as the past.

Sharing is never easy. Coming to terms, recognizing the actual emotions....

Countless of times, I say sorry. I always think small things are my responsibility, because other serious matters always seem to be mine too.

"Did you do those things?"

"No but--"

"Why are you sorry for things you didn't even do? Why are you guilty for things others did?"

I've been hearing this also from even the people dearest to me. You did nothing wrong. No one wanted that to happen. And I can't blame myself for what I won't even wish on my own enemies. It's no use to also transfer all that energy I felt to those cruel people who actually did those actions.

I was told guilt is the worst emotion. It's worse than anger, sadness, everything because it's a manifestation of all those plus you cancelling yourself out. The only thing worse than feeling a negative emotion is if you're blaming yourself for it.

Close friends and the counselor all told me this note: I'm doing well, I'm doing great because I did stand up and improved myself all this years. I came forward and reached out for help this time when I  felt I needed it. There's nothing wrong with me.

It's not my fault whatever happened, happened.

I had no reason to tear myself apart in my head when all these years, I just continued being the best I can be when I could have chosen to spiral even downwards. That even if this year saw my emotional relapse, I was never a quitter. I never wilted. I cried, but I still fought hard to make sure I never was weak. Even with the past few years of me unable to be kind to myself because of the past, I already did myself  more favors by never  backing down and instead chased my goals and built more.

I've always been healthy and functioning, never toxic. Even the strongest will have to curl up in a ball and cry, get mad and scream but I never stopped my life nor let go of my resiliency just to give the biggest space for this vulnerability. My breakdowns don't define me AND don't last. I haven't had a serious one since I spoke to a counsellor sometimes and started opening up more to a few close friends during this quarantine.

Maybe this time, for the first time in so many years, I felt at peace in that aspect I tried so hard to address yet ran away from. That, finally, I can forgive myself and put this behind me for good.


About the QUARANTINE SERIES

These are a series of posts that discuss mental health, deep thoughts, and random experiences during my time in the quarantine. Details of my battles and my triumphs written like how I write it--with honesty and a little insight.