How to live with heartbreaks

A proof that Ruzana have a heart.

Hi.

I guess it’s been a while, right?

Thank you for waiting and I am sorry if my silence hurt any single of you.

And I guess if you’re reading this, it took me years to decide that telling these stories was made because I am trying to heal properly. Stories that was locked into a dark vault.

Stories that made Nana.

I was diagnosed with Bipolar II Disorder when I was 22. I quit therapy and meds because it didn’t help and I got worse.

There were times I was having my depressive episodes and another was me in my manic state. I could be sad and happy in short period of time and it might not look like me most time but it’s me. I could be talkative and crying in the next minute. I can’t help it. And you don’t need to help me. Just a mutual understanding should be enough.

My life journey was, I would say tiring.

When I was a kid, I was hit by the fact that my dad was involved with substance addiction. He was a drug addict.

Because of that, I was the subject of bullying at school. Apparently the sins that your father committed became yours too. The mistakes they made became yours to inherit. They punished me like I had a choice in choosing my parents. Drove me into exhaustion, ripping away my hope. They encourage their children to terrorise me, took away my lunch box, trashed my table and even the teachers said things that no good educators would say. Drug addicts were dirty so were their kids too. In this case, I was that dirty kid.

I thought being in high school would be better. It didn’t.

I thought once I turned nineteen, I could change everything.

I thought education could help me so I got into university after studying at STPM like crazy.

I broke the stigma that a poor, drug addict’s daughter like me can’t make it. That “ayah rosak, anak pun rosak” statement. I want to conquer the pain, the trauma that life gave me. I am desperate for happiness.

Then, it happened.

My mom tried to unalive herself in front of me. Maybe the pain was too intense for her. And I learned that to cope with that pain, she used drugs too. Betrayed and lied to, I tried again. This things called love and life. I forgave her but, the pain stayed.

During a semester break in 2020, my dad was arrested for drug and he was sentenced to serve jail time for 3 years. I survived but my mom was sick. She was sad and angry. She was absent for a few months. I need to be there for my siblings. I work and work. To earn money. To feed my siblings. I was studying and work. I went home on weekends to take care of her and the kids. My precious siblings. They didn’t get a chance to choose their parents and I would never let them experience the hurt I felt.

In university, I work day and night. I got harassed. Several times until I didn’t really feel the pain anymore. I needed the money, so what does my body can even feel? What value I hold? What honour should I protect?I shut out every feelings I had, now I can’t really feel anything. Just, numb. I didn’t have time to grieve. I just shut out everything.

I can’t seemed to let go of my childhood trauma. No matter how much forgiveness I gave, no matter how much peace I screamed. I thought when my family gets better, I would too. But it didn’t. All things happened in my life that supposedly made me strong, it left huge mark in my soul. I am drowned.

I got a best friend once, or I thought he was. He helped me during those absent phase of my father. Even my siblings look up to him. But then, another betrayal. I found out he used me as a charity case to impress his politician father, a study case for his thesis. I thought our friendship was genuine. But it turns out, I was wrong. I was a mere subject and he wasn’t my real friend. He started to bring up every single good deeds he did for me. So, I understand why mom said, never in debt with people. I was humiliated. I was scared. Friendships, I am terrified by it.

Too many people, too many hurt. I am so afraid every time I feel happy, it won’t stay that long. Happiness and me, we didn’t mesh well. I tried finding love, maybe it could bring me happiness. I guess I had too many love to give, but people didn’t want my love. They want the benefit that came with my love. Never me.

Yet, why is I’m still here — is what people asked me.

What made me still holding on, believing life despite all the betrayals?

Why the sparks in my eyes didn’t die — Willpower, I guess.

I, want to live. Despite beaten down in life, I really want to live. I have faith in life. I don’t know too. Why I keep living despite all these? I wasn’t a strong person. I cried a lot too. I am a sensitive person, and I feel a lot. But the willpower I had, was because I have so much things to protect.

Something that death couldn’t ease me.

I want to burn brighter than my darkness. A supernova. A cosmic explosion. No one and nothing could change that. Life was actually wasn’t that bad. If you give it a chance.

Hearing my stories, living with heartbreaks, is it bad? Of course it is. I am not trying to gaslight anyone into believing surviving is fair for you. No one deserve this. The best way to live with heartbreaks — feel it. I ignored it once. For a long time. It only sickened my soul. Cry if it hurts. Be angry when you are mad. Feel and live. Healing, as fancy as it sounded is not easy. It might took years. You might lose yourself in the middle of that war.

Forcing yourself to heal, is like genocide upon your soul. As if life didn’t kill you enough. Heartbreaks and traumas is not a reflection of your worth. It can be your treasure too. It can be your source of power too, if you let them.

The final verdict from me — life is worth living so feel it. Live is worth living, so please live. Live and tell me, that heartbreaks are not the only thing you found.

Please.

Amin paling serius,

Nana, 2024.