Therapy and lots of self-love helped me get over my insecurity
When you're having an episode, most of the time, you feel helpless. You want a way out, but you can't find one. So, sometimes, you think of the unthinkable in order to find peace.
Around this time, five years ago, I took seven tablets of benzodiazepines all in one go. It wasn't a suicidal attempt, but rather, it was a last-ditch effort to shield myself from my dark, irrational, and painful thoughts at that time.
I was having severe bouts of anxiety and a depressive episode, and I just couldn't take it anymore. The trigger: I got hurt by comments made by someone whom I was very insecure about. I felt stupid—that I couldn't do anything right. That even if I did something with good intentions, the result would always be bad. I couldn't forgive myself and I wanted so badly to undo it, but I couldn't.
I was spiraling into a deep, dark hole and I could feel myself sinking every minute. I was so exhausted both physically and emotionally from crying and from carrying this burden. I wanted it to end, and I thought falling into a deep sleep and waking up maybe after 16 hours or 24 hours would give me a respite from this.
Well, it didn't work, because after taking seven tablets of benzodiazepines (anti-anxiety, anti-insomnia, tranquilizer type of meds), I fell asleep but woke up after two hours. Two hours! What. Was. That.
I didn't get the respite that I was hoping for. Downing those seven tablets just made me dizzy and added to the things I needed to talk to my psychiatrist about.
After a few days, I saw my psychiatrist and told him what happened. I was taking three different medicines at that time, and they were all safe--meaning, even if I downed seven tablets at once, it wouldn't kill me. But, it didn't mean that I could just take several of them anytime I felt like it. There could still be bad effects, and we wouldn't want to get to that point, would we?
Aside from this, I also cut myself. I took a sharp pair of scissors and made quite deep, ugly cuts on my left upper arm. Again, this was not a suicidal attempt, and my psychiatrist knew that because there are no major arteries or whatsoever on one's upper arm. But, this is self-harm, and these cuts, even if made just to vent or release pent-up emotions, can cause infections.
Now, five years later, I can say that I am doing so much better. After this self-harming incident, I never attempted to down several pills at once. I did cut myself a few times, but through therapy and prescribed medicines, I was able to get better. I also learned to appreciate myself and see the good things that I do, and this paved the way for my recovery.
It still took me years to stop being insecure about this person—my main trigger five years ago—but that's okay. I took my time to heal. I trusted the process. I learned to love myself more, and that was the key to climbing out of this dark hole. Self-love freed me from the chains of insecurity.
I'm not promising to never be insecure about anyone again. I'm human. I'm flawed. But what I do know is that I would never deny myself the love that I deserve. And if I do spiral once more, I would hold on to self-love to remind myself of my worth.