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Mental health is being talked a lot in the media lately. There is a stigma that is attached to it and I use to believe that I am not one of the people who sees it as something to be ashamed of.

Until I got it.

If you have been here before you would know that a lot of my past post are dark and depressing. I have talk a lot about being in a dark place. How I recovered from it and how I am staying away from being sad again. Photography played a big part of me being well from my depression.

But being in my situation where I am living with someone who I dont want to be with gave me something else that even photography nor my son can help me cope from.

Anxiety and panic attacks.

I didnt even know them by name but I am feeling them for the longest time. So much so that I thought that they are a part of every human being. And I think that my son sees me having them has made this normal to him as well. Until I talked to someone who told me to go to a doctor because those bad dreams and fears are not something we should live with.

So I went to a doctor. She made it official if that makes sense. She gave me a medicine to control the sobbing and crying and unexplained fears.

They do help. Sometimes I need to wait for awhile for it to take effect but I do feel better. I also need therapy.

But why is it that I feel guilty every time I take this medicine? I feel like its not right. I feel like its wrong to be dependent on it. That if I am taking a cough medicine I would be okay about it but not this kind of medicine. 'This kind of medicine' words that just reverberated in my head.


I just realized that I am part of the population who view mental health issue like what I have as a something humiliating. Because that is how I feel.

Having come to terms with taking the medicine is still something that I am reluctant to accept. But I cant really deny its help to me. Without it I would been a mess in front of my son.

Here I am now. In front of all of you, telling you that I am taking something to help me cope with life that I am having a hard time handling.

I dont feel like it makes me less of a person that I am before. It actually helps me to go back to what I am before all of this mess started.

I use to be strong and fun and free and I have control of my life. But I lost that person when I started being married.

Putting this out in the open is scary for me. I feel like some of you would understand and a lot of you wont. I am scared that I will have less opportunity in life and work. That it would limit the things that I can do and I will be trusted to do in public. Being open about my anxiety and taking pills to help me cope is already making people around me less trusting of the things that I am capable of. That a blunder that I made is not because it is a blunder but because something is wrong with my head. That I am no longer in capacity to take care of my son.

I am still me.

I am still me.

Sometimes I have to say that more than once because I need reminding too. I am still me. I still love reading, drawing, walking, pokemon go, nutella, and I will always be a fighter. Even if I am taking a pill a day to help me fight and even if sometimes I feel like my body is giving up on me. Even if sometimes I feel like I want to give up. I wont. I will always try to fight. That is what I have a lot of the never ending supply of trying. I will always try. Having anxiety helped me change the way I look at mental health. Writing this I hope would change your views too. Stigma is my word of the week.

The Reading Residence

Debs Random Writings


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January 2018



I am a daughter, a sister, wife and a mother! I have a son, Sebastian who is born 2010. I am from the Philippines now living here in the UK. This blog is a place where I rant and rave and share pieces of me!

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