A Thing About Loneliness

11 February 2018 - 10.45 PM

As I was falling a sleep, that feeling came. Damn, it’s the fourth time this week. If this trend continues, I might not even have a night without an episode of attack. It became harder to breathe, my head hurt as if thousand hammers were hammering down nails all over my scalp. When I opened my eyes, everything spun and after a while, all just went black. My hands were cold. Moreover both my feet were already numb. I switched my position, wishing it to go away but nothing happened. In fact it got worse. With all energy I could gather, I tried sitting down, pacing my breath. I remembered instructing myself to control my emotion and just simply breath.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inha . . .

It didn’t get better. In fact, I could feel and hear my own heart beating faster than normal now. My breaths became shorter and louder.

A thought passed by -we should get help- With eyes closed I tried locating my phone before realising it was charged across the room, at the study table. I no longer feel anything on both my feet and my hands had started to tremble. When I forced my eyes to open, I was horrified by the look on my face. I was super pale. My lips are cyanotic purplish blue and I could see my nose flaring, gasping for air, fulfilling the oxygen demand of my huge body.

- so this is what a true cyanotic looks like -

Another thought popped in to my mind. Then it all went black again and I fell down near the table. I swore if there were cockroaches to show, I might just fainted at that exact moment. My right leg was hurting and even the pain didn’t manage to send some adrenaline for the body to rise up. The floor was cold, but somehow soothing. Strange but it’s the truth. It would only take me one reach to the top of the table to grab my phone. However, my soul had decided to act against my logic. I laid myself on the floor, welcoming the cold in. I was hurting, feeling so tired, lonely and . . did not wish to fight any longer. In my defence, this has been my fourth attack, and I always woke up the next morning, ALIVE and . . functioning. So, what’s the difference this time ? Sure, the previous attacks never got me to this state but again, what’s the difference ? This wouldn’t have the power to take my life away.

Loneliness, pain and disappointments were not strangers in my life. In fact I have been friends with them, unwillingly since I was little. It never failed me, unlike my other “friends”. Maybe, it’s time to befriend “them all” so they would spare me some leisure time to be genuinely happy and satisfied.

With each second passing by, I felt my body became heavier, breathes became even harder to take. My lips had reached the tremor phase and I lost senses of all extremities. I couldn’t open my eyes even if I tried to. Great, time to finally sleep in, or so I thought.

Then the rest is blurry.

I only remembered some parts. I remembered my friend opening up the door saying he wanted to grab some books. I also remembered being carried to a car. . . Then, it became super loud and people.. frantic. A man shouted my saturation was only 74%. Another man grabbed my hand and injected some liquid in. After the last one, I felt light. My breaths were in better rhythm, I could feel my legs and hands. No more tremor. The only thing left was my headache. I didn’t know how I manage to fall asleep or how much time had passed since I got here. What I know was when I opened my eyes, I saw my friend sitting next to me, pale and horrified. He was holding my purse and phone. No words were spoken. No questions were asked. My head was still spinning a bit so I decided to close my eyes again. Thankfully he was my close friend, at least at that time. He understood that I didn’t want to be interrogate right away and was in desperate need of sleep.

Now, I realise I owe him a debt I could ever repay. Without him, I could have chosen “death” over life. I would have chosen to lie down and do nothing. And if that night I did nothing, I might only be a name my mother recited over her prayers every single night in her devastated grief now. And if that happens, I would never forgive myself, even in the afterlife where peace is promised to be found. So believe me. When you talk about desperation, loneliness and sadness, I know a thing or two since I have been fighting through it myself a few times, more than I want to admit during 23 years living in this beautifully questionable world.

So trust me when I say it all gets better. Because it can be and it will be, if you stop questioning and start embracing your true self.

It's liberating and once you feel it, that's all you ever want to feel.