No Filter: A Filipina Girl's Bipolar Disorder Story (4)

Trigger Warnings: abuse, manipulation, love-bombing, narcissist, mental illness, cheating, trauma, suicidal ideation

Things took a turn for the worse as 2016 turned into 2017.

Here's the statistics of my life: 

• I moved residences six times within 1 year. 
• I switched jobs every quarter so that’s four companies in 12 months. (1 company for every quarter!) 
• I accumulated over P60,000 in credit card debt. 
• I ate in a hundred restaurants.
• I added more men into my body count. 
• I cheated on my deadbeat, cheating ex boyfriend (Max) with another guy (Kaji). Big surprise when he also left me six months later. 
• I really thought that this was normal at the time. Clearly, I was deluded and delusional. It was a very confusing time because it had a huge resemblance to a normal life. 

When you step back to take a look at the bigger picture, you can say that I was doing well. I could afford to pay for my apartment because I had jobs. I was seeing my psychiatrist regularly and never skipped my medications. I ate three times a day and looked after myself. 

I also started seeing a psychologist in CEFAM just so I could talk about the things that was happening because my friends from my Facebook support group suggested psychotherapy. 

They noticed that I was talking about suicide more often and they were worried for me because I was alone in my studio apartment for long periods of time. My sister and mother tried to convince me to move out of my studio so I could share a space with roommates again. They figured that I won't commit suicide in front of other people.

But I wasn't convinced and I was very stubborn so I kept my apartment to maintain my privacy and to entertain my endless parade of men. 

To be fair, I also went on a couple of dates with women because my Tinder was turned on for both sexes. At that time, I thought that maybe I could explore my sexuality since I was single and ready to mingle. Unfortunately, I proved to myself that I am straight and I'd rather enjoy close friendships with women than romantic relationship.

I admit that I drank a lot, had casual sex a lot and then started smoking a lot. I lived like I had nothing to lose and I accepted that I could die anytime. It was like being on hyperdrive and my vision was super bright like Technicolor.

Of course, I did my best to pay off my debts and the debts that Max left on my credit card. I tried my hardest to bounce back and find a job after being terminated because I had to take two weeks off to cope with my depression and anxiety. 

I remember that I spent the last quarter of 2017 in my studio apartment. In my studio, I had a sofa-bed, a dining table for two with chairs, a mini-ref and kitchen stuff. Inside my closet was less than 50 items of clothing and accessories including shoes, bags and undies. 

I was practicing minimalism already because I couldn't afford to buy material things. I could only afford food, Netflix and meds. I was left with little income to pay for the credit card debt and it also left a direct impact my family's finances. I was wracked with guilt, regret and shame for bringing this financial burden to my mother and siblings. 

When I got into my fourth call center in 2017, I vowed to myself that I would do my best to stay and to rebuild myself. Kaji was giving me the disappearing act and it was driving me crazy. I'd known that it would play out like the Reggie incident so I decided to cut ties with him as soon as I got my hands on him.

In the end, my breakup with Kaji didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. It only gave me a couple of months of sheer pain and humiliation but it's nothing compared to what I've already experienced in the past. 

In that company C********x, I met some friends whom I climbed Mt. Pamitinan with, smoked with and had fun with. I went to Ilocos Norte and Ilocos Sur with a fling. I was going home to Batangas more often to spend time with my family and to repair my relationship with my dad. 

It was also at that time that I decided on impulse in March 2018 that I would give up my apartment, live in a dorm in Pasig City and just focus on myself. I promised myself that there would be no more casual sex, no more binge-drinking and no more unhealthy habits. 

As expected, the mania ceased one day but depression didn’t follow it's footsteps. 

Instead, I was hollow and empty. Day after day, I lived on autopilot. It was like I just got tired of being who I was so I decided to leave the cockpit. At least that’s how I thought of it. 

After my two disastrous relationships, I tried to enjoy being single. Even if I went home more often to see my family, gave up my apartment, traveled and explored other hobbies, I still didn’t feel happy.

It was common knowledge that I already accepted that I have bipolar disorder. My treatment plan became more final: meds, psychiatrist, psychologist and routine. God knows how important a routine is to me because it directly affected my sleep hygiene. 

I also gained a lot of weight. I kept an app to track my mood. I slept more than 10 hours everyday. I practiced self-care. But I was already obese and deeply unsatisfied with myself. 

This was a step on the right direction. The mood swings started to lessen. My attitude and behavior also improved because the aggression slowly faded. I started to become more optimistic about the future. 

Things really turned around in June 2018. It was like a switch went off. In 2018, I started to feel happy again. Life was starting to feel good again. 

When I was let go by C********x on my 29th birthday, I was immediately hired by a Singaporean ecommerce company.

Manic Mimi was thrilled because I got a better job, I moved to BGC, I had more money and I lived in a dorm that really close to work. I walked to work and walked around BGC all the time so the weight slowly fell off. I was getting better and better matches in Tinder so I was going on a lot of first dates. I made friends in my new company and reunited with one of my closest friends, Chrislyn. Things were starting to look up. 

My relationship with my family also improved. Apparently, the constant trips to go home on the weekends helped me rebuild my relationship with my mother, father, and siblings. 

In July 2018, I rekindled a connection with a guy whom I worked with. Things between us heated up pretty quickly. He's the only man that I can date exclusively and not feel threatened. 

Yes, my friendship with Duckie blossomed into something more over the natural course of time. Instead of making me crazy and suspicious, Duckie made me feel secure, cherished and valued. He took the time to get to know me, learned to appreciate me and treated me like his best friend. This tactic worked and eventually helped me reach a place emotionally where I felt protected and cherished in his presence.  

I was also performing very well at my job with my newfound friends, Sonia and Shiela. I liked my boss, Ongky, and liked my teammates. I loved the relaxed atmosphere, the millennial culture and the workload in the office. I think this was the only time in my life that I actually put in the work, paid the dues and planned out my professional growth. It's sad to think that I wanted to stay there for five years at least but the company would close down by December 2019.

Of course, it’s too good to be true because it was hypo mania coinciding with good luck. 

During that time, I drank even more often and I started smoking 8-10 sticks per day. Sonia and Shiela were my favorite drinking buddies. Whenever I came home, I would have a couple of beers and smoke with my mom too. 

Since Duckie wasn't my boyfriend yet, I also entertained a few dates with people I met on Tinder to get free dinner, free dessert or a free ride. But I didn't have sex any more casual sex because I was only interested in sex with Duckie. 

By and by, I lost interest in Tinder and uninstalled it. I also got rid of Viber, Telegram and blocked others in Facebook.

Living in BGC meant that I ate even more unhealthy food, I had milk tea thrice a week and didn't cook. We also had free food at work very often. Going on dates thrice a week also meant that I'd eat a good dinner before heading home.

Professionally, I did tons of overtime because I had so much energy and a drive to do my best. 

I thought that my treatment plan was finally working. I was sleeping regular hours, I had a routine at work and my family was doing well. I was getting regular cuddle time with my favorite guy. I can eat whatever I want. 

It's obvious to everyone that I was having a good time and I enjoyed it. I was flying too high again. It was only a matter of time before I hit the ground.

But my psychiatrist kept reassuring me that as long as I took my medications and saw my two partners in combating this illness, I had a fighting chance of getting well. 

My psychiatrist told me that I was self-aware so that definitely helped me stay on track. He was glad to see my Daylio app because it showed him if I took my medicine or not, what my mood chart looked like and what I was doing for that month. He wanted to see my triggers so we could avoid them. 

He was always worried for me because I met up with strangers. But he was impressed that I could recognize my own moods, my triggers and my traumas. 

He also told me that I’m finally somewhat mentally stable. My psychologist in CEFAM also told me that I’m mentally stable, to my delight. He confirmed that he watched the change in me from depressed to emotionally stable.

Talking about my past and present eventually led me to talk about my future. He was glad that I was taking meds because that was the first step. 

The other step is praying so I could finally feel closer to God again. I can also say that I’m blessed to be a part of a company that was understanding of my condition. I was working in my dream company and I was earning what I’m worth. 

Even though my two closest friends have resigned by December 2018, I stayed because I believed in the company values. 

I marveled at my self control when I realized that my vices were under control. I’ve finally stopped seeing strange men, drinking while on medication and smoking 10 sticks a day to focus my energy towards getting to know a guy that I really like, performing at work and taking Neil out to dinner. 

I didn’t drink and smoke that much anymore. Getting into a relationship with Duckie also meant that I was finally in a happy, committed relationship so my casual sex habit was also taken care of. I guess you’d really lose your taste for it when you’ve had too much. 

Other shitty things happened to me from June 2019 to this day but we'll have to talk about it another time.

Where am I now? I live with Duckie in a nice, posh condo in Quezon City. I got a job in a gaming support company. I've been actively posting stuff on this blog. I managed to finish my first novel thanks to a two week manic phase. 

As long as I can afford to buy meds, I can stay sane to stave off the more intense mood swings and the anxiety attacks. 

As for my mental health, it's not at it's best right now in the middle of the Extended Community Quarantine (ECQ). I promise to visit my psychiatrist ASAP once it gets lifted and I'm finally allowed to go home to Batangas. I also have tons of other stuff to do but that's my number one goal.

What's in store for me in the future? I honestly don't know. All I want right now is to stay in ONE company for 3-5 years, get married to Duckie, have 3 kids before my 35th birthday, become a housewife/business owner and probably write two more books. That's all that I want. Everything else is irrelevant and unimportant.

My life was a real roller coaster with a lot of twists, turns and heart-stopping drops. I’ve been suicidal, depressed, manic, anxious and delusional. 

Bipolar disorder still makes my moods change in a minute, an hour or a month. It’s still responsible for some of my more questionable choices. But being self-aware is important for a creative soul like me.

I’ve got a wealth of experiences and lessons that I can use in the future when I share my stories. God knows that my stories are my treasures. 

The suffering, the bad choices and the consequences are still gifts in messy wrappers. As a writer, I am grateful for a lifetime of stories. 

That’s why I strive to be as authentic as possible and that means accepting my illness and sharing my personal story. WITHOUT FILTERS.

-end-

No Filter: A Filipina Girl's Bipolar Disorder Story (3)

Trigger Warnings: abuse, manipulation, love-bombing, narcissist, mental illness, cheating, trauma, suicidal ideation

I waited for daylight before I got dressed. In the the very early hours of that morning, I left my dorm room to go to the only public mental hospital in the Philippines. It's the National Center for Mental Health (NCMH) in Mandaluyong.

At that time, I left my dorm without a word to my landlady of roommates. All I was wearing was a ratty t shirt and ripped shorts with slippers. My hair was unkempt and untidy. The heaviness in my heart was overwhelming.Then I hailed a cab outside my dorm. 

“Where to?” the cab driver asked me casually. 

“Mandaluyong Mental Hospital,” I answered. My voice was quivering. 

All I had on me was PHP 5,000 inside my wallet and my phone. But I’ve already lost the will to live. 

He looked confused but he nodded for me to get in. I got inside the cab and called my brother’s girlfriend because I was desperate to talk to somebody who care about me. 

Why I didn't call my parents or siblings is still a mystery to me. Perhaps because I was already in trapped in that line of thinking wherein my ex-boyfriend, Reggie, drilled into me that I was nobody, I was worthless and I was not worth helping.  

But I needed help and I didn’t know where to go. Faye told me to go to the Psychiatric ER. She told me that I was already in crisis mode and I needed to be helped ASAP. As you know, there's no suicide hotline in the Philippines and there's no 911. Going to the mental hospital for being this close to suicide is the only option left for me/ 

I nodded obediently even though she couldn't see the tears streaming down my face. 

The cab dropped me off inside the mental hospital at the Psychiatric ER. I vaguely remember approaching the nurse’s station and telling them that I wanted to kill myself right now. My lip was quivering and my whole body was trembling. 

Two burly orderlies immediately escorted me into a cot and hid me from view with curtains. I started crying really hard and they tried to cheer me up. But the tears just won’t stop.

A doctor came to check on me after some time while I was crying in my cot with the curtains drawn for privacy. But I don't really care anymore because I'm in a room full of other people who also badly needed help. 

We started to talk and the things that I’ve kept inside of me for such a long time started to spill out.

I cried all throughout the interview. 

The things that I’ve kept inside of me for such a long time started to spill out:

• I aborted a baby. Am I going to jail or hell? 
• The baby's dad, Reggie, (my ex boyfriend) was a liar and abusive. He hid the truth from me! He was married! I was a mistress for more than a year and I didn’t know it! 
• My mom and dad separated this February. I’m scared for my siblings. Hell, I’m scared for myself. 
• My dad has a substance abuse problem and he kept a mistress for 3 years! 
• I cannot get promoted at work. 
• I don’t have savings because I spend it on food and nice clothes. 
• There are days when I just cry in my bed and I don’t want to move. 
• I haven’t slept in 4 months. 
• Nikon has anger issues. He’s so toxic and he tried to break up with me three times just because of my intense mood swings.
• I was raped in the past. The most recent one was in December 2015. I was raped four times by different men who preyed on my drunken weakness. 
• Is there something wrong with me? I’ve slept with 40+ men so far.
• I might have AIDS (!)
• I really, really want to die right now. Please kill me now.
• Please help me.

As the doctor listened to me, I had the vaguest feeling that my current situation was not just caused by depression. 

There was something else there. 

I told him about the men, the endless shopping sprees, the drinking and my risky sexual adventures. My libido was just like an 18-year-old male and my sexual partners were already in the double digits even though I was only 26-years-old. 

On the other end of the spectrum, I suffered from depression for months on end. I was always anxious so I never slept properly. My mind raced like cars competing in a Monte Carlo race track. 

My mind was full of dark, evil and suicidal thoughts that led me to overeat, overspend and seek temporary respite from myself. 

When I told him about the men and my risky sexual adventures, he shot out of his chair to grab my file from the front desk to update it ASAP. 

I tried to listen to the doctor through a groggy haze as he explained that my behavior and life choices was caused by Bipolar Disorder 1.

The psychiatrist kindly explained that my life choices was caused by Bipolar Disorder 1. I was depressed because my mania finally stopped. It was why I was so sad and why I couldn’t move forward from my traumas. My grief only made everything worse.

Upon hearing the diagnosis, I felt like I was finally vindicated. There was something wrong with me. I wasn't imagining it. I wasn't a hypochondriac. I had a diagnosis that finally explained why I was like this, why I chose my decisions and why I was engaging in risky coping mechanisms.

Putting a name to the faceless, invisible illness that plagued me felt like the work of God.

He explained that I was depressed right now because my mania finally went away. I also remember him telling me kindly that I should get well soon and I shouldn’t lose hope. 

Then I fell asleep because they gave me a sedative. 

Nikon picked me up from the hospital when I woke up a few hours later. I don’t remember telling him to come and pick me up. 

But I know that I specifically asked not to be committed inside the hospital because nobody will be there for me. It just goes to show how alone I felt because I chose the last person in the world to come and get me. 

I was also dimly aware of the fact that a stay inside the mental hospital was going to destroy any chance for a normal life. 

My ex took me back to my family on the same day. I can't even talk about how he treated me after picking me up from the ER. Let's just say that he damaged me even more by taking out his anger and insensitivity on me. 

When I got home to my parent's house, I stayed with them for two months. I finally broke my communication with Nikon because I couldn't deal with him anymore. 

So I quit my job, started taking my meds and wondering what to do with my life. 

I also did my research on my condition. Apparently, my uncontrolled shopping sprees, grandiose ideas and unrestrained spending was because of mania. I was starting lots of mini projects and finishing none of them. I was always semi-aggressive and full of tension whenever I dealt with people. My libido was just like an 18-year-old male so I looked for sex all the time. I had a larger body count when it came to sex than my peers. 

It also explained why I wanted to die at 14-years-old, my angsty fanfics and feelings of emptiness. It was the reason why I was so sad all the time and why I couldn’t move forward from my trauma. My grief made it worse. 

My favorite auntie took me to a private hospital to see a psychiatrist for a second opinion. The result was still the same. Her heart broke when she found out about my abusive relationship and my abortion. She hugged me afterwards and told me that our family will always be there for me. 

Upon hearing the same diagnosis from my psychiatrist, I decided to accept the illness so I could move on with my life. 

I started taking a mood stabilizer with an antidepressant. The antidepressant was also a mild sedative that I have to take so I could sleep at night. 

I accepted that I will have to take medication for the rest of my life to take care of the chemical imbalance inside my brain and to lessen the intensity of my mood swings.

Taking medications for my illness helps me manage it. Just think about a diabetic who needs a daily insulin shot. 

My brain was missing neurotransmitters. The meds provide that missing chemical so my brain could work properly. That’s why I have to take them at the same time everyday to avoid a relapse. 

My mother took me walking around a park every afternoon so I could get out of the house. Getting endorphins into my brain was also a goal. Distracting me from the darkness and the suicidal ideations was number one in her agenda. 

When I started to feel a bit better, I decided to come back to Manila to work. I felt so guilty for being a burden to my family and I was tired of feeling sorry for myself. I didn't want to depend on my impoverished family to provide me with money and support for my entire life.

I didn't want to be their burden. I didn't want to be the reason why my mother and three siblings would struggle. I didn't want to destroy my life and theirs in the same breath.

Going back to work was the only option for me. I decided to go back to working in the call center because it was the only industry that I knew. It was the only job that could give me enough money to buy meds, pay for my psychiatrist visits and suppot my family. 

I thought that I'll be able to manage it because I have meds, I have a diagnosis and I have a mood diary. I promised myself that I'll keep up with my monthly appointments with my psychiatrist and try to visit Father Ben more often. I told myself that having bipolar disorder doesn't mean I won't get the chance to have a normal life.  

Guess what? My mania came back with a vengeance. 

By September 2016, I started a new job in Quezon City, I jumped into an apartment with girls I barely knew at work, I began a relationship with a guy I’ve only known for two weeks (Max) and I started swiping my credit card like crazy. 

It all happened again at the same time. Of course, I was in denial that it was Manic Mimi who was running the show. 

I thought that I was so sad for the past few months that it’s normal to feel really good about yourself. It’s OK to feel energetic and happy. There are good things happening for me so I should be happy. 

Yup, I was so delusional back then. Thanks to my mania, I had enough energy to come to work on time, perform my tasks and shine. 

I was so ecstatic and so in love with life that I didn't notice that I was starting to derail my own grip in sanity. 

My family situation was getting worse until my parents finally separated for good so I decided not to focus on something I couldn’t control. 

In a flash of brilliance, I focused my attention to my job and my deadbeat, useless and opportunist boyfriend, Max. I also applied for a supervisor position, I moved into my own apartment (Belle Reve) and I ate my feelings away. 

I loved my apartment in that nice, middle class neighborhood in Quezon City even though it was very small. I love the ambiance of the place, the nice landlady and the convenience it provided to me. I think I maxed out my credit card in getting the essentials like a sofa bed, a ref, a dining table and other little things. But it was my first home, my first private space and my first major investment. 

Of course, Max didn't waste any time in moving into my private sanctuary within 3 months. I was stupid into thinking that it was going to bring our relationship into the next level. No, it didn't. It only opened me up to a vulnerable position because Max took advantage of my kindness and decided to use me as his personal credit line.

Nobody knew that I paid for the rent, the utilities, the groceries, the dates and the travels. Nobody knew that Max always promised to pay me for the things he owed but he never did. He never picked up the bill, never paid for his half of the expenses and always used his enrollment at a local college as the reason why he didn't have any extra money. Max was a leech and he took advantage of my generosity for the whole year-long relationship. 

At work, my bosses liked me but they didn't like me enough to promote me once they learned about my mental illness. I was immediately disqualified from a supervisory position because of it. 

In fact, bipolar disorder will find a way to destroy my chances at any kind of promotion, job offer and job opportunities. 

I've had numerous BPO companies withdraw their job offers when they learned about my mental illness in my pre-employment medical procedures and/or terminated me just because I missed work days when I was depressed. But we'll talk about that at another time.

You should take note that I was still taking my meds. Let me tell you that just because I’m on meds doesn’t mean that I’m stable. I was very, very far from it. The higher I went, the harder I fell.

There was no escape from Manic Mimi and her vice-like grip on my neck.

To be continued.

No Filter: A Filipina Girl's Bipolar Disorder Story (2)

Trigger Warnings: abuse, manipulation, love-bombing, narcissist, mental illness, cheating, trauma, suicidal ideation

I am not a saint. I'm human. Although I've tagged myself as "worse than an angel, better than the devil", I cannot escape the fact that I'm a human who is just as susceptible to bad decisions, regrets and karma. 

So, Karma is here and she's having the time of her life kicking my ass and making my life hell. 

What did I do to deserve her presence? You'd be surprised! God knows it would be enough to make even my closest friends and family member raise their eyebrows and bite their lip to prevent themselves from launching into a angry tirade mixed with regret, amusement and overwhelming pity for me. 

Confession time! I made a lot of bad decisions in the past. I believed that it was much better to be young, wild and stupid while you had the chance so you can tell your grandchildren about it. 

Unfortunately, I did the crazy things that you must never EVER tell anyone. It must never see the light of day! It must be buried in the past and it should stay there! I wish it would stay dead. But it's a zombie and it kept getting up no matter how many times I've kicked it in the balls or buried it in the backyard. 

My mother was fond of saying that secrets had a way of coming out. She was right. I had a lot of secrets. They didn't stay secret for a long time.

Why? It's because I had a bad habit of not filtering my thoughts. So whatever I was thinking or remembering came out in whatever I was saying, writing or doing. 

It spilled out of me. If I didn't tell my closest friends, I would write about it. I would even bring it up in a conversation with coworkers or tell complete strangers about it just to break the ice. I even used them to coax a couple of laughs. 

I was not discreet about it. I did not even know about being discreet. I thought it was harmless and fun to tell little stories about yourself because you didn't have a filter. I was being true to my authentic self. 

I didn't think that they would come back and bite me in the butt. I didn't think that it would affect my current relationship. I didn't think that it would almost ruin my life. 

Let's travel back to a time when I still wore my college uniform and naively maintained an optimistic outlook in life. 

I was just 17-years-old when I made the decision that would irrevocably change the course my whole life. I lost my virginity, okay? Let's get it out in the open. It's natural and it's not embarrassing. 

I was a child with the privileges of an adult. I wanted so desperately to become independent and to grow up already. I wanted to run away and find out what kind of person I would be. 

As Britney Spears crooned, "I'm not a girl, not yet a woman." 

I was hopelessly lost and confused on my journey to become a woman. I did not know how to protect myself from the beauty standard and the dangerous Madonna-Whore standard that society expected from me. 

I was confused on how I can become sexy without being sexual. I was lost on how to win the approval of my parents and peers. Not to mention that I had to attract the attention  opposite sex too. So I did the first thing that my parents disapproved of... I lost my virginity, duh.

There was a lack of guidance from my parents during this rebellious phase. To be fair, they tried their best to discipline me but they did not try hard enough. 

I guess they had more important things to do like raise a pet brother and worry about our growing debts. My mother tried her best to keep warning me but history had the tendency to repeat itself.

Since I was a bad girl who did not listen to her parents, I did not realize that this would have devastating consequences on my decision-making skills as well as the potential to ruin my entire life. 

I thought that I can chalk it up to experience. I naively thought that I could even use it for writing. 

I was in denial. I really thought that I would never have to pay the piper. I thought that my first boyfriend and I were madly in love. I thought that it was a good investment for my future with him because I would marry him.

Reality kicked in. He turned out to be a slimy creep that everyone desperately warned me about. I mean, he cheated on me on our second year with a girl he actually introduced to me as his new "best friend". 

That was so painful that I actually thought that all men are just like him: mean, manipulative and completely insensitive to my feelings. 

You must remember I was so young. I thought that I was invincible. I thought that nothing could hurt me. Most of the time, I thought that I had nothing to lose. I lost my virginity already. I was damaged goods, right? No decent guy would ever want me.

It was a turbulent time because I had problems at school and home. 

My family was imploding due to money problems. My parents were going through a rocky phase in their marriage that would last for a decade. I was taking care of my youngest brother like I was his mother because our own mother was too busy to do it herself. I was not ready for that kind of responsibility either. 

I was failing in school because I was bullied by my classmates. To make matters worse, I didn't have a lot of friends who would have stopped me from plunging into sin. I did not even write. 

Sadly, I began to think that God had abandoned me. I started to drift further and further away from Him in spite of my part in a religious Catholic youth organization as a catechist and warrior of Christ.

Things got worse. 

I was painfully thrust into the adult world of work and office politics at the tender age of 18. 

This was old news, I know. Everyone knew that I started working because my father retired from his military job and I was running away from the bullies at school. Going to work was the perfect solution!

As it turned out, I was young, impressionable and full of eagerness to discover a world of privileges that I should not even have access to.

My first job was in a call center in our province. Marital infidelity, hooking up and drinking sessions was the norm. I was exposed to people who smoked, drank on a daily basis and boasted of their sexual conquests brazenly. Morality did not exist. Anything could happen.

I did not think about God. The dark side tempted me to partake of these previously forbidden pleasures and I got drunk in it. I was drawn into it because it was in our call center culture. 

Yes, I rationalized that since everybody did it, it must be okay. 

My dark times had begun. As a child on the cusp of young womanhood, I was not exposed to the right influences during my young adulthood. I did not have any guidance from my father or pastor. 

For a time, I thought that I had lost God. 

You know what happened next: I drank like a fish and I hung out with the wrong people on a regular basis. I became selfish, manipulative and over-the-top because I was desperately trying to hide the fact that I was still an insecure teenager masquerading as an adult. I was over compensating.

I wanted the men at work to notice me. I wanted my peers and coworkers- mostly bitchy women- to accept me. I drank because they drank. I also did it because of curiosity, peer pressure and foolish youth. I figured that I was experimenting so I did it. For the record, drugs have never touched my lips. I've smoked cigarettes in the past, yes, but never drugs. 

I wanted to get ahead at work but I was held back by my lack of a college degree. I still lived at home but I earned my own money so my parents couldn't control me. 

They started to depend on me financially so they allowed me to do whatever I wanted. It was around this time that I also started to support my younger sister and to give my share to the household expenses. They always said that I was an adult so I could take of myself. 

As the oldest child, I should also take care of my younger siblings and even my parents. But a question nagged at the back of my mind: who will take care of me?

I admit that I was angry at God. I thought that I should not have these kinds of burdens at such a young age. I walked away from Him because He did not make my life any better. So I made it worse.

I grew up too fast. My moral compass broke. I viewed marital infidelity, backstabbing and sleeping around as normal occurrences. It never occurred to me that it was wrong and I should avoid it as much as I can. Then I made friends with Jean who had about as much moral fiber as my dog. 

She was someone I wanted to be: fun, flirty and adventurous. She looked like she knew what she was doing. Not to mention that she was really fun to be with. We used to be inseparable. She was the pretty friend and I idolized her for it. She could have any man she wanted. She made me believe that it was okay to be adventurous in terms of dating and sex. 

At that time, I was foolish enough to believe that sex equated love thanks to the warping influence of my first boyfriend.

Sex was easy and convenient, she told me. You can have it if you want it. Like love. 

Thanks to her influence, I became an even worse bad girl. 

I naively believed her. During this time, I was a girl that I was not proud of. I was insecure, lonely, depressed and full of negative energy. 

I wanted so badly to be accepted and loved that I did everything to win it from the people around me. I desperately wanted to please so many people: my parents, family, siblings, bosses, coworkers, classmates, teachers, friends and strangers in the street. 

I didn't think that I should be thinking of pleasing God. I thought that if they liked, approved or even tolerated me, I would earn their love. I didn't think that God loves me and I don't have to work so hard for His love. 

My bad decisions started to pile up. I did some of those things because I wanted to. I did most of it while I was drunk, I was under peer pressure and/or I was depressed. I did it because I thought I had nothing to lose. I did it because I wanted attention. I did it because I desperately wanted to be loved.

Then my classmate from high school died at such a tender age that it accelerated my reckless lifestyle. I'd had a brush with Death once. I didn't want to die without doing everything that I wanted to do in this life. (I did not think about the eternal life after this. I'm kind of short-sighted when it came to long-term goals at this time.)

At the same time, my problems in all areas of life became a mountainous heap. To cope, I lived for the moment. I was so reckless, so foolish! I thought that I could escape all of this if I had a relationship with a guy. Wrong again! It blew up on my face. It got so bad that it very nearly destroyed me through the depression that followed.

Yes, it was around that time that I chose promiscuity as my vice. I had to cope! I had to do something so I could keep going. 

I talked to everyone and their dog but it never soothed my troubled heart. That method didn't work. 

I wanted to know that I can be loved for myself. I wanted to know that my parents, especially my father, loved and cared for me. No matter what I did, it was never enough to catch their attention. It was not enough to tell them that I had to be stopped.

So I followed my desires. 

I did not think about the future anymore. I lived in the moment although I was very careful not to get pregnant or sick. In the arms of countless guys, I felt comforted even for just a fleeting moment. I always felt empty afterwards. But I told myself that there was always more, more, more! 

It was never enough. It was a vicious cycle that kept hurting me again and again. I never loved any of them. 

That was my mistake. I turned my back on God again. I didn't stop when I could have stopped. 

I seriously thought that my life can't get any worse. It did because I was not discreet. It came back to haunt me so many years later. 

Karma is digital. People cannot be trusted because they talked about me all the time. Some of them were only too happy to see me sink into this quagmire. 

As you can see, I did not believe that I could rise above all of this. I did not foresee that I would finish my college education, see my sister graduate and pass her board exams, get good jobs and have a loving and fulfilling relationship. 

I did not believe that I would become a woman who was confident and sure of her place in the world. I did not believe that people would still love and care about me in spite of my flaws and mistakes. 

I did not believe that God was going to have His way in the end. 

My friends, Ivy and Rhena, never stopped believing that I would change my ways. They both told me that God loved me. They told me that I did not have to repent for my sins because Jesus did that for me by letting Himself get nailed to the cross. God might be disappointed but He loved me because I was His child. 

I did not have to earn His love or ask for His forgiveness. As long as I've quit and repented sincerely for my sins, I will be okay. I'm not a saint. I'm a human being who deserves love, respect and forgiveness. 

I've changed a lot throughout the years. I've accepted the fact that I'm not as grown-up as I'd like to believe. I'm not Supergirl. 

For your info, I'm done with my previous lifestyle. I'm a different person now. I'm a woman who believes in second chances. I'm a woman who is secure in the knowledge that even if the world hated me, there is an Almighty God who will love me.

Not to mention that God is so good to give Duckie to me. God knew exactly what kind of man I'll need in my life. Years of prayers have paid off. Duckie is also everything that I've ever wanted in a man: kind, gentle, responsible and faithful. 

Why did I write this painful memoir? I'm tired of pretending. I'm not going to be afraid. 

I will not have any ghosts of my past hovering behind me. I will not engage in boxing matches with shadows. I can bring my skeletons out of the closet and use their bones to defend myself. 

I'm going to continue writing without filtering my thoughts. I'm going to be true to myself because I'm still a girl who wants to be loved for who she is and what she can do.

"Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you." ~ Tyrion Lannister, A Game of Thrones

No Filter: A Filipina Girl's Bipolar Disorder Story (1)

Trigger Warnings: abuse, manipulation, love-bombing, narcissist, mental illness, cheating, trauma, suicidal ideation

I’ve always been an unusual girl. 

At first, I thought that I was an artist with a creative soul. Artists were supposed to be moody, creative and unpredictable. Ever since I was a child, I’ve always known that I will grow up to be a writer so I embraced my crazy impulses and unconventionality.

I thought that being a writer meant experiencing life with open arms. I lived on the edge and chose the paths that pushed the limits. I thought that being a part of the creative community meant that I should be authentic and unfiltered.

Guess what? I was wrong. Dead wrong. 

Those creative spurts, fantastic projects that were never finished and crazy unusual life decisions? That was Mania. Those moody and miserable periods? That was actually Depression.

I was always swinging in between because I didn’t know that I was sick with an invisible, debilitating mental health disorder. I've always lived with the intense emotions, the unpredictable mood swings and the insane decisions I've taken in my life.

That’s why I always said that I was a study of contradictions: worse than an angel, better than the devil. I didn’t know that I was sick all along. 

My illness was good at hiding until I started hearing voices. That’s when I started to question whether or not I’m creative or just plain sick.

To everyone, I look like any regular girl in my black dress, lipstick and an office ID. I was well-read, cultured and humorous. I could make friends in anyone in the room and I've always presented a social, outgoing personality to everyone. People think that there’s nothing wrong with me. 

Nobody ever suspected that I had Bipolar Disorder. Not me, not my family and certainly not my circle of friends. Only a professional would have been able to spot my troublesome mood swings. 

When I’m feeling good, I look exactly just as the pretty picture I’ve shared with you. When I’m feeling worse, I’m going to look unkempt and untidy because I can’t take care of my personal appearance when I’m dying inside. I am a firm believer that my personal appearance is the gauge of my current mood. 

Bipolar Disorder is a mood disorder. It’s an illness that affects a person’s mood or emotional climate. Most of its sufferers will experience intense mood swings like depression and mania. It’s a mental disorder that will ultimately affect a person’s decisions, attitude and occupation. It can ruin your life faster than you can say The Flash. 

Then you’ll probably experienced a mixed episode so you’ll be so depressed you want to kill yourself but you also have enough energy to carry it out. 

It’s sad to think that most of the people who are diagnosed with this illness will be more prone to suicide. They also make up for a large percentage of completed suicides. That’s a cheery thought, right? 

What’s even more cheery is that you’d probably need 10 years before you actually diagnose it correctly. 

By then, you’d have fucked up your entire life so bad that offing yourself seems like the best option. Believe me, I reached that hard, unforgiving rock bottom before I found out about my condition.

When I was 26, I looked normal but my life was falling apart at the seams. Let me give you a short biography: I have a job, I finished college, I’ve got family, I’ve got friends and I’ve got a pretty normal life. 

At that time I was working in a dead-end call center job that forced me to work at night at the start of the summer of 2015. In that job, I couldn’t get promoted because I was missing a lot of days at work. There were days when I couldn't get out of bed to go to work or I skipped out on my shift impulsively because I didn't feel like going. 

I also lived in a crowded dorm without an air conditioner in the arid, humid climate of Metro Manila so I survived with sleeping for only 2-3 hours everyday. This continue for four months and I relied heavily on coffee to stay awake. 

I was feeling anxious all the time because my nuclear family unit was also imploding and my fling with an abusive, manipulative guy named Nikon after Reggie was breaking apart. 

In a classic Manic Mimi move, I'd replaced Reggie with another toxic, manipulative man who made me pay for our dates, our trips to the motel, our trips to Lipa and other expenses. I was trapped in a circle of Hell that was my own making. 

Nobody knew that I was also mourning for a baby that I’ve lost in an abortion earlier that year. It was due to Reggie's insistence that I'd gotten the abortion that he paid for. The grief, the anxiety, the self-loathing, the regret and the other emotions were turned up to 11 and the intensity was swirling inside of me. 

As expected, I made bad choices left and right due to sleep deprivation, deep grief and intense stress. All of these problems were happening at the same time. I was very stressed, tired and suicidal.

One day, my mind just snapped when Nikon told me that I was toxic to him and I should focus on fixing my family. 

I went home to my dorm room that was already 38 degrees Celsius to get some sleep before my job. My mind didn’t stop racing with fantastic thoughts even as I dozed. I woke up an hour before my shift then I told my boss I was feeling sick. 

My mind didn’t stop racing with fantastic thoughts like my suicide. I wanted very badly for my life to end so I could stop feeling the pain. My chest felt heavy everyday and I cried every night. I couldn't do anything without feeling anxious, self-critical and uneasy.

As I lay in the dark, I started hearing a crying baby. There were no children in our street. The crying grew louder and louder. I thought that I was being haunted. I prayed the rosary. It was 1 AM and I was so afraid. 

My mind finally turned on me. 

Let's be honest right now. I aborted my first child under duress by my ex-boyfriend, Reggie, because he didn't want to have a child from an extra-marital affair. I was trapped in a position that left me vulnerable, helpless and completely alone. My ex/abuser made sure that I could never, ever turn to anyone for help.  

As a Roman Catholic, I was scared for my eternal soul. I thought that it was only fitting to be haunted because he was in limbo. I envisioned the fires of hell, the thick fog of limbo and the waiting darkness. 

When I turned on the light, I hallucinated that a baby boy was wrapped in a blanket. He was waiting for me on the bed, crying incessantly. I could hear howling in the background. I didn’t realize that the sound was coming from me. 

My tears wouldn’t stop trickling down my cheeks. It was my son! It was my baby who needed me to stop crying. I picked up the baby and rocked it to sleep. 

Dawn finally broke the night. It was hours later when I realized that I was holding only my pillow in my arms. My chest tightened. I thought about drowning myself then and there. The Pasig River was just a block away and it would be so easy to walk into it with hollow blocks tied to my arms.

My baby was calling out to me and I didn’t want him to feel so lonely. I prayed to God for guidance because the feeling of swimming in the most polluted river in the world with hollow blocks tied to my ankles was starting to become a good idea.

To be continued.