Part 2: Popping Pills

Medication

To say I had a huge stigma against medication is, well, true. I grew up in a household where my parents would not use Western medicine unless absoluately necessary (in other words, we were really dying or whined enough). When I had acute asthma as a child, my dad refused to fill the prescription because he thought if I took it, I would never be cured. He wanted my body to just tough it out and fix itself, because if I took the medication, my body will learn to rely on it for the rest of my life. And the…


Part 1: Sitting on the Couch

Therapy and pills. Those are the two most common treatments we think of if someone is “crazy” or “unstable” or just not “all-there”. While we are getting better at using the term “mental illness” nowadays, there’s still so much stigma around therapy and popping pills. I know it took me a long time to work through my own stigmas against these treatments and still I catch myself hesitating to tell people I’m going to therapy or taking my medication.

So for those that are suffering or just curious as to how all this works for someone with depression and anxiety…


Three years ago…

… I had just been broken up with and getting ready to move back home. I had moved to a brand new city with this boy hoping for a bright future, but instead, now had to face the humiliation of a failed relationship and moving back in with my parents. I was also absolutely heartbroken and held on to the hope that we’ll get back together soon to continue this (toxic) relationship.

… I was spiralling. I had spent the last month trying to find a new therapist, as well as going to multiple drop-in sessions around…


And it’s still uncomfortable.

I knew writing honestly about a sensitive topic, like sex, would invite uncomfortable conversations. (See post here.) I had ones where people expressed how they felt the same, asked me to clarify about how I felt, and then there was the one-off ignorant conversation that was full of stereotypes, comments about my body, and fake praise. I expected these uncomfortable conversations. I was ready for these conversations to happen and I wanted them to. What I didn’t expect were the men in my life that I’ve had sex with to message me.

I get it. You wanted to make sure…


I’ve experienced a lot of loss in the past year (they weren’t kidding when they say it comes in threes). In a strange way, I wish it was the type of loss I was used to. I’ve dealt with loss of a friendship/relationship, loss of autonomy, loss of self, loss of the idea of family, loss of job, etc. This was the first time I’ve ever had to deal with loss due to death, and let me tell you, it is way different.

Somehow, all the other type of losses are easier to deal with because it isn’t finite. I…


and all the other horrible things I tell myself.

I spent the majority of my life thinking I was fat. I’ve been saying I was fat since I was 13 or 14. The funny thing is I know rationally I’m in no way “fat” and sound like a completely insensitive bitch if I said it in front of a “bigger” girl. So there’s always this immense guilt that I have offended someone since if I think I’m fat then they must be obese in my eyes. Except they’re not. I think they are beautiful just the way they are regardless of size, but I look at myself in the…


… what a bad day looks like

That moment when you know you’re suppose to be a ball of sunshine and everything around should be rosy. Because of how things are going in your life as of recent, everything should be shitting rainbows and unicorns. Except all you feel inside is despair, extremely lost and the only thing sitting with you in the darkness is a wound-up ball of anxiety.

Everything is not right in the world.

I have zero reason to believe this statement except for the little demon in the corner screaming at me that a boulder is coming. …


Processing my grandmother’s death

My grandma was an interesting character. I never quite know how to describe her to my friends other than she’s kind of crazy. Well, maybe a whole lot crazy and semi-abusive. The point is though, she was my grandmother and coming from an Asian household, she was a mother-figure to me. My parents had to work full-time to provide for our new life in Canada, so my brother and I spent a lot of time with my grandma taking care of us. She was the one who consoled me when I came home from school crying, she was there to…


and how uncomfortable it is.

There have been very few times in my life where I’ve truly and honestly enjoyed sex. I’m almost ashamed to admit that since I should enjoy sex all the time so there must be something wrong with me (or so I thought). I’ve learned to talk about it as if everything is great with my friends, but conversations with my significant other (where it matters) are hard. I’m super uncomfortable, embarrassed, and it gives me lots of anxiety. Engaging in the act in general is uncomfortable so I’ve opted that drunk sex is my favourite thing. I mean no wonder…


#BellLetsTalk

Depression for me means…

… feeling tired all the time. … sleeping for 10+ hours every day and still feel exhausted. … cleaning is a daunting task that requires way too much energy. … feeding myself is too much work and I’ll rather not eat. (It means I’ll get slimmer anyways right?) … I don’t know who I am without it. It’s been with me for so long that when I start to feel better, I have an identity crisis. Who am I if depressed is no longer what describes me? … I tell myself everyday that I’m worthless, not loved, and not…

Cecilia Leong

Snippets on navigating through life while practicing vulnerability.

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