Here’s some Raya anxiety anecdotes and how to overcome them. Whenever the fasting month ends, most people get excited by the fact Eid is coming up. Well, not me.
I’m not a very festive person to begin with and anxiety plays a huge role in shaping me to be so. (Also, the fear of being hit by those “pop-pop” fire cracker thingys is immensely real).
Eid, or Hari Raya in fact any festivity involves a large group (read: crowd) and you know how I feel about crowds.
TRIGGER WARNING: This post talks about prescription medicine and will touch heavily on pills. If you feel uncomfortable about such topics, please do not read any further.
This is the second part of writing about my journey of being prescribed mental health medication, you can read part 1 here.
Currently, I’m almost three months in consuming whatever’s been prescribed to me and I’m treating this post as a progress update and to somewhat address my initial thoughts on prescription medicine that I wrote about in the previous part.
Classify me as a bookworm or one of those people who have hobbies that are a snooze fest, but I love reading. It may have started with Peter and Jane and transitioned to Enid Blyton and went to an embarrassing hopeless romantic (read: deplorable) phase of Nicholas Sparks and even the “football literature” phase with works from Sid Lowe and Stefan Szymanski. But soon I found my cup of tea when it came to books: Haruki Murakami.
Anyone who knows me well is aware that I’m a self-confessed Murakami snob, a moniker I take seriously. So far, I’ve read nine of his works. I loved the idea of meeting a Sheep Man who tells you to dance, the ability to talk to cats, having a parallel universe with two moons or when your brain is circuited to the end of the world. Oh, and not to forget all those times you had a friend named “Rat” that you had to track within three books, completely unrelated to each other. What a dystopian literature dream!
forbidden wonderful worlds of Haruki Murakami!
See, told ya I take the term “Murakami Snob” seriously. I got carried away. Soz.
The purpose of writing this post is to explore the art of book hoarding and how anxiety plays a role (yea, if you’re in my shoes anxiety plays a role in everything). Continue Reading
Oh, the perils of job hunting.
A couple of months back while I was still an intern, I was on my way home on the LRT when I spotted a billboard about a career fair. I thought to myself if I were to go to a career fair again I would feel like a failure.
A failure. Oh Mariah, you’re playing the role of Debbie Downer again. But my reason for feeling so back then was because almost everyone I knew from school had full-time, baller-esque corporate positions. A secure future, good for them. (And yes, I have this bad habit of comparing myself to others, my shrink agrees with you).
Pre-shrink days and way before dropping 300 bucks bi-weekly, I would consider myself as a ball of anxiety and there was nothing more I wanted than a Xanax prescription. Well, I got more than I bargained for because aside from the most coveted Xanax, I received four other prescriptions: Rivotril, Tranpam, Apo Quetiapine and Lexapro. Yea I know, much science. Receiving a C+ in Chemistry doesn’t help in identifying half of what I’m supposed consume but from my knowledge, Lexapro is an anti-depressant and the fact that I’m taking it officially makes me a “Lexabro” (soz I had to make that joke, also good to know these pills haven’t killed my sense of humour or lack thereof). The rest according to the doctor were meds to calm me so I can sleep with zero thoughts when my head hits the pillow.