Too much going down

So many thoughts that slips through the cracks. I think that's what depression is for me: scooping sand with a sieve.

I like to write with a purpose but there does come a point where I self-censor everything I write so I'm attempting to burst past it with simple wording.

My best friend's sister passed away, alone in a hotel room bathroom, stabbed to death. She did it to herself. She was found the next day by the hotel manager who had to break down her door as it was latched. She wrote a note, apologizing to the hotel staff for the inconvenience. She wrote that she had a loving family and noone was to blame. She just started medication for the first time two months ago. She seemed to be doing well.

This is the night when I too, was considering hurting myself; the pain in my chest was so great. I'm waiting on my medication. I knew the tools to get past the thoughts. I knew that suicide is the permanent solution to a temporary problem. Surprisingly, it was a dance radio station that got me past the thoughts, after hours of trying to meditate, after contemplating calling a suicide hotline, after forcing myself to not think of any sharp objects, lest I form a plan to delegate one of my limbs to harm.

I'm a somewhat normal, outgoing, intelligent person who loves her family, loves life, loves beauty and people. I've undergone alot of traumatic events in my life but I do my best to not to be a victim anymore. I have friends, hobbies, talents, the ability to challenge myself even though it may be so uncomfortable to even walk outside, my agoraphobia can be great.

My friend's sister did not cry out for anything. She had no friends. She had her family though. She was college-educated, but did not graduate. I did not graduate as scheduled but at her age of 26, I had finally gained the courage to go back and finish my final semester. She had severe body image issues as I do. I was the only person she felt comfortable with and it makes me sad that I couldn't get to know her even though I've tried. I suggested WoW as an alternative for her to make friends; her depression was to the extent that a game wouldn't have made her feel good.

I could have easily been her were it not for me opening up just a little in high school to people who became my best friends. If they weren't there for me, I think I would have been immersed in my mother's judgments, convinced that there's something terribly wrong with me.

Why did you have to hold onto your pride? Pride was the only thing you said you had and it was the reason you didn't want to seek help.

Why did you girls have to hold onto saving the family by not outing a relative who harmed you when you were young? I'm so angry at him and at my friend. I can't help but feel that he contributed to her feeling of being disjointed.

Why did her mother hold onto her so tight? Why did she feed her little ancedotes of the terrors that would happen all around the neighborhood? Why did her mother throw fits if she didn't get her way regarding curfew for two girls who were in their mid-20s? Her mother tried so hard to protect her children who aren't Chinese children but American adults.

I hate that there is so much pressure to be perfect. I hate that I have to live my life with constant pain. I hate that my friend's sister didn't give herself a chance to take a risk.


http://www.imdiversity.com/Villages/asian/family_lifestyle_traditions/pns_pressure_depression_0805.asp

http://www.cnn.com/2007/HEALTH/05/16/asian.suicides/index.html

http://www.womensenews.org/article.cfm?aid=2891