by Ora Serrata

Now when my head is a bit clearer, and my heart feels a bit lighter, I want to look back to those past months… My latest blog posts have been very dark and depressing, to say the least. I mostly talked about death and how hopeless I was haha.. I promise I’m gonna write something hopeful after this.

I think Habil’s death plays a huge role in my depressive episode. I remember that I cried almost every day for almost two weeks after his death. I remember I found myself desperately scrolling through his chats on my phone, scrolling through old albums trying to find his photos, his videos, anything–anything that could remind me of what we had when he was alive.

I remember I texted almost all of my inner circle asking for help because I’ve never experienced such intense sadness before I had no idea how to deal with it. But no one in my closest circle has experienced a loss of a best friend either, I remember that their words weren’t as comforting as I wish they would, I remember I didn’t feel enough… In my hopelessness I even googled “how to deal with best friend death” ha ha it sounds silly right now, but I was desperate back then. I found some answers on Quora and the answers really resonated with me, because they expressed the feelings I couldn’t. I felt slightly comforted, knowing that I wasn’t alone, knowing that someone out there feels exactly what I’m feeling, knowing that I wasn’t crazy for feeling those feelings.

My therapist told me that grieving usually takes about two weeks and after that everything will get better. But I remember I was grieving even months after that. It’s true that it did not hurt as much as the first time, but I was still grieving. I was still in pain. Now when I think about it again… I think that’s because I did not express enough about how devastated I was. I was afraid people thought I was overreacting, afraid people would think I was seeking attention. I felt like I didn’t have the right to grieve that much because he was only my best friend. He wasn’t my family member, he wasn’t even my husband. Yeah I know it was stupid, just because he wasn’t family doesn’t mean my sadness back then was invalid. He wasn’t my family by blood but he was my family by choice. We chose to be in each other’s lives and we chose to be each other’s family. I hope I could say I’ve learned my lessons.

I remember I felt a bit better after visiting his grave. I came back home to spend Eid with my family but I was determined I had to pay Habil a visit. After the visit I felt like ten kilos lighter, it was like something was finally lifted off of my shoulder, even though I could still feel like there was a lump in the back of my throat, and my chest still felt a strange sense of heaviness. But I was better. At least, I thought I was better.

I knew I hadn’t been properly healed when the news of my favourite cousin passing away broke a few months after. It was like… It was like I’m being reminded about those sad, ugly, and negative feelings again. It felt like there was a second–even third–wave of sadness washed me all over my body again. My cousin’s death was a huge loss for my big family.. He was always the life of the party, the one who cracked up jokes during family gatherings, the one who had always, always been so nice and so kind to everyone. I was sad that he died at such a young age, but I remember I felt tripled sad because I couldn’t imagine how my Uncle and my Aunt felt at that time… It was unfair for them to bury their child.. I remember I felt so fucking nauseous and so fucking uncomfortable at that time.

And I guess that was the start when everything went south. I remember I felt devastated, sad, and I felt so fucking alone. The world started to seemed dark and I desperately searched for the light. When I tried to recover, my grandmother–the only grandparent I have left–passed away, and I remember that I felt so fucking angry, angry at the situation, angry at life, I felt angry and frustrated on top of sad and devastated, and I was, really really exhausted…. I felt so fucking exhausted I didn’t think I had any energy left. I think I totally lost it the moment my grandmother died. I had trouble sleeping and I would lay in bed until two or three past midnight. I had no energy to get up in the morning, I literally woke up about ten minutes before the official hospital hour started, get dressed, and went to the hospital. I didn’t even bother to take a shower. I splurged my money on food, but only to find them in the trash can. God, that time my life was falling apart.. I didn’t take care of myself. I eat whenever I feel like it, and since I couldn’t sleep I tried to sleep but in a wrong way, and when I didn’t have emergency duty on weekends I would be sleeping throughout the day. Thank goodness those days are over now :””

You know, I will always be forever grateful for Nabila and Tono, because the two saw straight through to the bullshits I told them, hahaha…. When my life was falling apart, I isolated and distanced myself from the world including both of them. There were times when I stopped telling stories and stopped contacting them if it was not for residency-related things. I could feel that they actually realized it right away, but they didn’t say anything at first.. not until all of this got really bad. One day they decided to talk to me, brought me good food and we ate together in my place, just like in the old times… They were, literally, the glimmer of light I’ve been desperately searching for. Nabila, being the angel she is, went to extra lengths by booking an appointment with a therapist right after that. And for that, I will always be forever grateful.

And now here I am, and even though I can’t say for sure that I’ve totally gotten back to my old self (because honestly, it only needs a few triggers and I find myself slipping back into that darkness) but I can say my head is definitely clearer, and even though I don’t think I feel ultimately happy, but my heart definitely feels lighter. I can see that I’m slowly getting there. Well, discovering BTS and being an ARMY (LMFAOOOO) actually helps soothe this heartache, but I guess that story deserves another blog post…

I’m glad that I finished writing this piece. This blog post actually has been here in the draft for a while now.. I think completing this post has been part of me trying to fully heal myself.. And I know I will, one step at a time.