I'm Living Today

2

"When did it start?"

I sat comfortably in the couch facing my psychiatrist. I pushed myself to seek for help, my siblings—they need me still.

When did it start...

"Probably when I was 8 years old. My mom went abroad, when he got home my dad and her were arguing. She was pregnant. I was 8 by then I don't know that much about this and that. Leo and I were the kids then, he was 5 years old and I'm 8 years old. Everyday my dad will drown himself with alcohol. One day, he was throwing the bottles of beer. I don't remember that much it's probably because my brain couldn't handle it and buried it. The only thing I remember that day was I look for my brother and we went at the back of the house, I remembered how I cover his ears so he wouldn't hear the commotion happening inside our supposedly home."

"Since then, things never quite felt the same. My mom left again shortly after my younger sister, Clara, was born. My dad's drinking only got worse, and home became a place of constant tension and uncertainty. I remember once trying to help my dad when he was too drunk to get up, but he just pushed me away. It was then I realized that we were on our own.

As I grew older, I became the de facto parent for my siblings. I made sure Leo and Clara were fed and got to school on time. I even learned to cook simple meals, though they weren't anything special. The weight of responsibility was crushing, but I couldn't let my siblings down. They needed me, especially since my mom was barely in the picture and my dad was too lost in his own world.

High school was when things took a darker turn. I started feeling this overwhelming sense of hopelessness, like a heavy fog that I couldn't shake off. I tried to hide it from Leo and Clara, but some days it was too much. That's when the thoughts started creeping in—the ones that whispered maybe everyone would be better off without me. It terrified me, but I pushed those thoughts down, buried them deep. I had to be strong for my siblings.

But the more I tried to keep it together, the more it felt like I was falling apart inside. That's why I'm here, I guess. I can't keep pretending everything is okay when it's not. My siblings still need me, and I want to be there for them. But I also know I need to take care of myself, or I won't be able to take care of them."

The psychiatrist, Dr. Reyes, nodded thoughtfully. "It sounds like you've been carrying a heavy burden for a long time. How have you been coping with all of this?"

I sighed, staring at the floor. "I don't know, really. Some days are better than others. I try to keep busy with work and taking care of Leo and Clara. But there are times when it feels like everything is closing in on me, and I can't breathe."

Dr. Reyes made a few notes in her pad. "Have you ever talked to anyone about how you're feeling? Friends? Other family members?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't want to worry anyone. And besides, I don't think they'd understand. Most people think I'm strong because I’ve had to be, but inside, I feel so...broken."

"Feeling isolated can make these struggles even harder to bear," Dr. Reyes said gently. "It's important to have a support system, someone you can confide in. Have you ever thought about joining a support group? Sometimes talking to others who are going through similar experiences can be very helpful."

I considered it for a moment. "Maybe. But I don't know if I'm ready to share all of this with strangers."

"That's completely understandable," Dr. Reyes replied. "We can take it one step at a time. For now, let's focus on you. Can you tell me more about these thoughts you mentioned earlier? The ones that scared you."

A lump formed in my throat, and I had to swallow hard before speaking. "They come out of nowhere sometimes. I'll be doing something ordinary, like washing dishes or walking to work, and this voice in my head starts telling me that everyone would be better off without me. That I'm a burden. I try to push it away, but it's persistent. I haven't...acted on those thoughts, but they scare me. I'm scared of what might happen if they don't go away."

Dr. Reyes leaned forward slightly, her eyes filled with concern and empathy. "I'm really glad you told me about this. It takes a lot of courage to speak up about such painful feelings. First and foremost, I want you to know that these thoughts, while incredibly distressing, are not uncommon for people who are under extreme stress and feeling overwhelmed. They don't define you or your worth."

I nodded, feeling a small sense of relief that someone understood. "So, what do I do? How do I make them stop?"

"We'll work on that together," Dr. Reyes assured me. "There are various strategies and treatments that can help. Cognitive-behavioral therapy, for example, can be very effective in addressing and changing negative thought patterns. Medication might also be an option, but we can discuss that in more detail later. The most important thing right now is that you're not alone in this. We'll take it one day at a time, and we'll find a way to help you feel better."

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away. "Thank you, Dr. Reyes. I just...I want to be okay. For myself and for my siblings."

"And you will be," she said softly. "It won't be easy, and it will take time, but with the right support and tools, you can get through this. You're already showing incredible strength by being here today. Let's build on that."

Dr. Reyes handed me a box of tissues, and I gratefully took one. "Thank you," I murmured, wiping my eyes.

"You're welcome," she said warmly. "Let's talk about some immediate steps we can take. I want you to have a few coping mechanisms for when those intrusive thoughts become overwhelming. Have you ever practiced any mindfulness or relaxation techniques?"

I shook my head. "Not really. I usually just try to distract myself with school, org or taking care of the kids."

"Distraction can be helpful, but mindfulness techniques can also be very effective in calming your mind and reducing stress," Dr. Reyes explained. "One simple method is focusing on your breathing. When you feel overwhelmed, try to take slow, deep breaths. Inhale through your nose for a count of four, hold for four, and exhale through your mouth for a count of four. This can help ground you in the present moment and reduce anxiety."

I nodded, committing the technique to memory. "I'll give that a try."

"Another helpful strategy is to challenge the negative thoughts directly," Dr. Reyes continued. "When the voice in your head tells you that you're a burden or that everyone would be better off without you, try to counter those thoughts with evidence of your worth. Think about the ways you've been there for your siblings, the strength it takes to keep going despite everything. Write down these positive affirmations and keep them handy to remind yourself of your value."

I hesitated. "It sounds good in theory, but what if I don't believe those affirmations?"

"It's normal to feel that way at first," Dr. Reyes acknowledged. "It can take time for positive self-talk to feel genuine. But with practice, it can become a powerful tool in changing the way you see yourself. Remember, you're not trying to convince yourself overnight; you're planting seeds that will grow with time and care."

"Okay," I said, feeling a mix of skepticism and hope. "I'll try it."

Dr. Reyes gave me an encouraging smile. "That's all I ask. Now, I also want you to have a plan in place for times when things feel particularly overwhelming. Do you have someone you trust who you can call or talk to if you're in crisis?"

I thought about it. "My friend, Faith, she's always been there for me. I haven't told her everything, but I think she would understand."

"Good," Dr. Reyes said. "Having a trusted friend or family member to reach out to can make a big difference. Let Faith know what you're going through and how she can support you. It's important to let others in, even when it's hard."

"I will," I promised. "Thank you, Dr. Reyes. This all feels really overwhelming, but it's also the first time I've felt like maybe there's a way out of this darkness."

"There is," she said softly. "It's a journey, and you're taking the first steps. We'll continue to meet regularly to build on what we've discussed today. You're not alone in this, and together, we'll work towards a brighter future."

As I left Dr. Reyes' office, I felt a strange mix of emotions. The weight of my past and the challenges ahead still loomed large, but for the first time in years, I also felt a glimmer of hope. I wasn't sure what the future held, but I knew I had taken an important step towards healing. And for now, that was enough.

But whatever happens, I'm living today.