Et tabu er et emne det er socialt forbudt eller set ned på at tale om, i følge min egen definition. Tabuer har vi mange af i vores samfund. Nogle der giver mening, og nogle der ikke gør. For hvorfor skal ting være tabu?
Et familiemedlem og jeg talte forleden om hvordan det er tabu at tale om sit psykiske helbred i offentlig rum, og hvor nederen det egentlig er. For hvorfor er det ikke ok at fortælle hvordan man har det i hovedet, når folk skriger til højre og venstre om ingroet-tå-operationer, brukne arme og migrener der dundrer?
Og hvorfor er vi så bange for at bryde disse tabuer?
Jeg blev i ret ung alder tvunget til at bryde et stort tabu der hvor jeg voksede op. Mange tog aftsand fra mig for det, men jeg fik også venner over det. Andre, der havde det på samme måde, men som ikke turde lukke munden op, fortalte mig at jeg var modig som turde at bryde det tabu og tage den shitstorm der kom, og jeg tror måske enkelte endda så lidt op til mig på grund af det.
Ikke at jeg selv synes jeg var nogen man burde se op til den gang, men det kan vi tage i et andet indlæg...
Selv om det var meget hårdt og jeg fik meget had, angrer jeg ikke den dag i dag på at jeg tog hul på den emballage, og viste folk hvem jeg egentlig var. For hvorfor skal man skjule sig selv for at nogen andre ikke skal synes man er underlig? Det vil der jo altid være nogen der gør.
Psykisk helbred er et vigtigt emne alt for få mennesker tør at tale om, og færre ved noget om. Uvidenheden, sammen med stilheden, kan nogle gange være nærmest knusende, og den eneste måde folk lærer om det på er hvis det bliver talt om. Når der nu er så mange der går ned med depressioner og hvad værre er, og sidder og får det endnu værre fordi de har lært de ikke må tale om det, hvorfor tør vi så ikke?
Hvem fanden har sagt at vi ikke må?
Hvorfor er det tabu? Hvorfor bliver man set på som pjevset, svag eller sindssyg hvis man rækker hånden op og siger "Hey, jeg har det altså ikke okay"?
Jeg har det altså ikke okay. Det kan jeg være helt ærlig om. Jeg har uro i kroppen, stemmer i hovedet, tankemylder, angst, og jeg falder til tider ned i depressioner.
Men for fanden da, jeg er da et rigtig menneske alligevel, er jeg ikke? Hvorfor er jeg så så bange for at tale om det i offentligt rum? Jo, det ved jeg egentlig. Det er fordi tidligere forsøg er blevet mødt med "Tag dig sammen" eller "sådan noget snakker man ikke om offentligt" eller lignende kommentarer. Undskyld mig, men ber du en med et brækket ben om at tage sig sammen og gå? Siger du til en der ligger og råber om hjælp fordi han blev stukket ned, at han ikke skal råbe så højt mens nogen kan høre det?
Tabuer bliver i mine øjne skabt af frygt og uvidenhed. Frygt for at skulle tale om eller engagere sig i noget man ikke forstår, og uvidenhed omkring emnet. Hvordan kan man bekæmpe uvidenheden?
Hvis du læser dette, smid gerne en kommentar.
Hvilke tabuer påvirker dig?
Monday, 18 August 2014
Monday, 30 June 2014
Det å være snål
Jeg hadde egentlig tenkt meg å skrive om underlige mennesker, men så kom jeg på at jeg er jo egentlig ganske sær selv, så hva rett har jeg? Hele livet har folk synes jeg var underlig. "Hun der Anna, hun er rar" "Så underlig hun er", etc.
Joda, folk sier like ofte om meg at jeg er snill og klok, men jeg har alltid mistenkt, noen ganger med bekreftelser etterpå, at folk også sier og alltid har sagt om meg at jeg er rar.
Hva gjør en person til rar? Ikke bare annerledes, men direkte snål? Hva er den unavngitte følelsen enkelte folk gir en som gjør at man tenker sånt om dem? Og har vi rett til å synes sånne ting om folk når vi ikke vet hvorfor de er som de er?
Jeg var veldig slem da jeg var yngre. Joda, jeg var snill mot de fleste, men jeg skjønte, som de fleste andre, ikke riktig det med psykiske sykdommer. Jeg mente folk bare måtte ta seg sammen og sånt.
Jeg hadde en venn og klassekammerat gjennom mange år, som jeg bestandig synes var litt sær. Jeg lurte på hvorfor han ikke bare tok seg sammen og sluttet å glemme bøkene sine, sluttet å lage rare grimaser, sluttet å bli så sint når folk rørte han, sluttet å holde seg selv sånn uttafor.
Mange år seinere fikk jeg vite at han hadde autisme, og da var han plutselig ikke rar i mine øyne lenger - fordi for en autist var oppførselen hans jo egentlig ganske normal!
Nå angrer jeg veldig på at jeg ikke bare støttet han i stedet for å prøve å fikse ham.
Som liten hadde jeg en venn som var kjemperar, men han hadde ADHD og alle visste det, så det var liksom greit at han var som han var, og ingen sa noe til det annet enn at de lo litt av/med han når han stilte seg opp mot lærerne.
Når er det greit å være rar, egentlig?
Selv har jeg ADHD og 'simpel schizofreni', og disse greiene har også påvirket meg mye, og fått folk som ikke visste det til å synes jeg var snål.
Da jeg startet på skolen, især da det var tid for mellomtrinnet, var det ingen som visste noe om diagnosene mine, jeg visste ikke engang at jeg hadde dem. Førstnevnte diagnose gjorde at jeg skravlet og skravlet og absolutt ikke kunne lese folk, og det gjorde ganske fort at folk så meg som litt sær. Det at jeg ikke hadde hatt mange venner og heller ikke fikk det, gjorde at jeg ble enda særere, for jeg lærte aldri helt det med hvordan man passer inn, samme hvor hardt jeg prøvde. Aldri heller klarte jeg å følge med i timene, jeg hadde så mange tanker oppi hodet mitt at jeg ikke klarte å høre hva lærerne sa fordi mitt eget hode bråkte sånn, og jeg forsvant ofte inn i mitt eget hode når jeg skulle forsvinne ned i bøkene, især i mattetimene.
Lærere ble sinte på meg, medelever tok avstand, og venner forsvant.
Jeg synes ikke man skal bruke diagnoser som en unnskyldning for å være en dust, men jeg synes at det for mange kan være en forklaring på hvorfor de er som de er.
Som meg, for eksempel. Da jeg fikk min siste diagnose i januar i år (den der simple schizofrenien), da var det masse som plutselig ble forklart for meg. For eksempel om hvorfor jeg aldri "bare" kunne ta meg sammen, om hvorfor jeg sjeldent hadde overskudd til å være sosial, om hvorfor jeg ikke "bare" ryddet eller stod opp til tiden, og hvorfor jeg hadde store vansker med det med venner og kjærester og andre sosiale obligasjoner.
Jeg kan ikke la vær å lure på om alle de som synes jeg var rar og irriterende fordi jeg ikke bare tok meg selv i nakken og ble normal, ville synes det samme om meg, hadde de visst om diagnosene mine.
Om lærerne hadde kjeftet like mye, om medelevene hadde snakket om meg på samme måte bak ryggen min, om vennene som forsvant hadde holdt ut med meg litt til.
Heldigvis hadde jeg og har fortsatt venner som har skjønt at jeg egentlig er et helt ok menneske til tross for at jeg er snål, og som har holdt ut med meg samme hvor mye diagnoser, usikkerhet og andre rarhets-faktorer har herjet.
Ikke alt av snålheten min kommer fra diagnoser, selvfølgelig. Det å være snål trenger ikke å være noe negativt, jeg synes at det er helt greit å kunne skille seg ut litt.
Faktisk så synes jeg at de som ser på seg selv som 'de normale' er de som er de største skrotingene.
Tenk deg det, å gå i klær som ser stygge og lite flatterende ut og sole på seg hudkreft bare fordi et blad sier det er på moten! Er ikke det litt snålt, da? Eller å måtte ha med seg parfyme og glattejern på skolen for å være "pen" hele tiden, er ikke det litt rart?
Hvorfor er det bestandig vi som går med sokker i sandalene og liker Magic-kort eller dataspill som får rare blikk?
Joda, folk sier like ofte om meg at jeg er snill og klok, men jeg har alltid mistenkt, noen ganger med bekreftelser etterpå, at folk også sier og alltid har sagt om meg at jeg er rar.
Hva gjør en person til rar? Ikke bare annerledes, men direkte snål? Hva er den unavngitte følelsen enkelte folk gir en som gjør at man tenker sånt om dem? Og har vi rett til å synes sånne ting om folk når vi ikke vet hvorfor de er som de er?
Jeg var veldig slem da jeg var yngre. Joda, jeg var snill mot de fleste, men jeg skjønte, som de fleste andre, ikke riktig det med psykiske sykdommer. Jeg mente folk bare måtte ta seg sammen og sånt.
Jeg hadde en venn og klassekammerat gjennom mange år, som jeg bestandig synes var litt sær. Jeg lurte på hvorfor han ikke bare tok seg sammen og sluttet å glemme bøkene sine, sluttet å lage rare grimaser, sluttet å bli så sint når folk rørte han, sluttet å holde seg selv sånn uttafor.
Mange år seinere fikk jeg vite at han hadde autisme, og da var han plutselig ikke rar i mine øyne lenger - fordi for en autist var oppførselen hans jo egentlig ganske normal!
Nå angrer jeg veldig på at jeg ikke bare støttet han i stedet for å prøve å fikse ham.
Som liten hadde jeg en venn som var kjemperar, men han hadde ADHD og alle visste det, så det var liksom greit at han var som han var, og ingen sa noe til det annet enn at de lo litt av/med han når han stilte seg opp mot lærerne.
Når er det greit å være rar, egentlig?
Selv har jeg ADHD og 'simpel schizofreni', og disse greiene har også påvirket meg mye, og fått folk som ikke visste det til å synes jeg var snål.
Da jeg startet på skolen, især da det var tid for mellomtrinnet, var det ingen som visste noe om diagnosene mine, jeg visste ikke engang at jeg hadde dem. Førstnevnte diagnose gjorde at jeg skravlet og skravlet og absolutt ikke kunne lese folk, og det gjorde ganske fort at folk så meg som litt sær. Det at jeg ikke hadde hatt mange venner og heller ikke fikk det, gjorde at jeg ble enda særere, for jeg lærte aldri helt det med hvordan man passer inn, samme hvor hardt jeg prøvde. Aldri heller klarte jeg å følge med i timene, jeg hadde så mange tanker oppi hodet mitt at jeg ikke klarte å høre hva lærerne sa fordi mitt eget hode bråkte sånn, og jeg forsvant ofte inn i mitt eget hode når jeg skulle forsvinne ned i bøkene, især i mattetimene.
Lærere ble sinte på meg, medelever tok avstand, og venner forsvant.
Jeg synes ikke man skal bruke diagnoser som en unnskyldning for å være en dust, men jeg synes at det for mange kan være en forklaring på hvorfor de er som de er.
Som meg, for eksempel. Da jeg fikk min siste diagnose i januar i år (den der simple schizofrenien), da var det masse som plutselig ble forklart for meg. For eksempel om hvorfor jeg aldri "bare" kunne ta meg sammen, om hvorfor jeg sjeldent hadde overskudd til å være sosial, om hvorfor jeg ikke "bare" ryddet eller stod opp til tiden, og hvorfor jeg hadde store vansker med det med venner og kjærester og andre sosiale obligasjoner.
Jeg kan ikke la vær å lure på om alle de som synes jeg var rar og irriterende fordi jeg ikke bare tok meg selv i nakken og ble normal, ville synes det samme om meg, hadde de visst om diagnosene mine.
Om lærerne hadde kjeftet like mye, om medelevene hadde snakket om meg på samme måte bak ryggen min, om vennene som forsvant hadde holdt ut med meg litt til.
Heldigvis hadde jeg og har fortsatt venner som har skjønt at jeg egentlig er et helt ok menneske til tross for at jeg er snål, og som har holdt ut med meg samme hvor mye diagnoser, usikkerhet og andre rarhets-faktorer har herjet.
Ikke alt av snålheten min kommer fra diagnoser, selvfølgelig. Det å være snål trenger ikke å være noe negativt, jeg synes at det er helt greit å kunne skille seg ut litt.
Faktisk så synes jeg at de som ser på seg selv som 'de normale' er de som er de største skrotingene.
Tenk deg det, å gå i klær som ser stygge og lite flatterende ut og sole på seg hudkreft bare fordi et blad sier det er på moten! Er ikke det litt snålt, da? Eller å måtte ha med seg parfyme og glattejern på skolen for å være "pen" hele tiden, er ikke det litt rart?
Hvorfor er det bestandig vi som går med sokker i sandalene og liker Magic-kort eller dataspill som får rare blikk?
Saturday, 16 March 2013
So many thoughts, so little energy to write them down
I have a ton of ideas for blogposts.
Happy, sad, pensive... All of them. But whenever I have the chance to post them, I can't get it out. I can lay awake for hours and plan the perfect blogpost, but come morning... Nothing.
I had so many things to say, I have so many things I need to get off of my chest and out in the open, but I just... Can't. And I hate it.
Happy, sad, pensive... All of them. But whenever I have the chance to post them, I can't get it out. I can lay awake for hours and plan the perfect blogpost, but come morning... Nothing.
I had so many things to say, I have so many things I need to get off of my chest and out in the open, but I just... Can't. And I hate it.
Friday, 2 November 2012
My life seen on the bright side
My life, at the moment, is looking up.
For once, winter seems to be far less anxiety-ridden than the summer, and I'm in a happy, stable relationship.
I've managed to go to the same school for more that 5 months without getting kicked out, and I've lived in the same apartment for 10 months now. I've even hung up posters here, which those of you who know me in person know is a big deal for me.
I like it here. For the first time in a long while, I live in a town where I could imagine settling down. And I don't feel panicky about it. Usually by this time, I'd have my stuff packed, ready to flee from my anxieties and start over in yet another town. But I don't want to leave this place, I've got people here and places I like to be. Places where I just stop in my tracks and fall into a blissful trance for a while.
I like to ride my bike over to the park and just sit at the bench where I can stare at the lake, listen to the crickets, and see a good portion of the night sky. Stars have always calmed me down. I excelled at reading at a young age because I kept reading astronomy-books. when I see them, I feel connected to the outside universe, and life doesn't feel as lonely and isolated anymore. I just feel peace, like there's millions of other entities feeling the same as me, wanting to share the moment with someone, anyone.
I have real people to share moments with now, and for the first time in what seems like 4-5 years now, I have the energy and social network to interact more with people form outside my own head than inside. I finally feel like I'm becoming able to connect with "outside people" again, and people keep telling me I look healthier. Although, that may also be because I've become better at makeup.
I like my own face. I like seeing it in the mirror, and I finally feel like I'm coming to terms with how I look. Wouldn't mind losing a few kilos though. Hello, who wouldn't?
'Ey, just noticed I've kicked another obsessive-compulsive thought; I used to have to say the word 'hello' out loud if I typed it. Dunno why, just did.
I'm not insane anymore! Kidding, I've never been mentally insane. But I feel more confident now that I won't end up a "crazy cat-lady" than I used to, hahaha.
My life all-in-all feels good. I still have some way to go, but I'm more confident now that I'll get there. And I've got good people by my side.
I know most of my posts seem melancholic and pessimistic, especially if you follow the other blog, the one about lists, but I can now assure you, my mental state is... Happier.
Not that I've ever been severely unhappy many times, but I have felt what can best be described as a crippling hopelessness mixed with the fear of being left and forgotten by everyone I love.
I don't have that anymore, thanks to medicines, therapy, and a stronger social network.
... The fact that I am in a relationship which has lasted for more than a month without one of us fretting has also helped a lot, I won't lie to you. It feels good, and I'm happy. I want it to last, I want this person to be in my life one way or another for as long as humanely possible, and it has been forever since I last managed to connect that way with someone. It feels so... Freeing, good, harmonic. I'm not glorifying the whole thing, and that's another thing I wanted to mention since this post is about what I feel good about in my life at the moment. See, I am for once not blinded by those pink-heart-shaped sunglasses people usually put on when in love. I won't lie I am absolutely smitten and utterly in love at the moment, but I'm mature enough now to still stay rational, and to not lie to myself about how things are and stuff.
I'm happy, people. My mind is lighter, the people in there are hibernating, and my days are never the same. I like my life, especially when I see it on the bright side.
What do you guys like about your life? Tell me!
For once, winter seems to be far less anxiety-ridden than the summer, and I'm in a happy, stable relationship.
I've managed to go to the same school for more that 5 months without getting kicked out, and I've lived in the same apartment for 10 months now. I've even hung up posters here, which those of you who know me in person know is a big deal for me.
I like it here. For the first time in a long while, I live in a town where I could imagine settling down. And I don't feel panicky about it. Usually by this time, I'd have my stuff packed, ready to flee from my anxieties and start over in yet another town. But I don't want to leave this place, I've got people here and places I like to be. Places where I just stop in my tracks and fall into a blissful trance for a while.
I like to ride my bike over to the park and just sit at the bench where I can stare at the lake, listen to the crickets, and see a good portion of the night sky. Stars have always calmed me down. I excelled at reading at a young age because I kept reading astronomy-books. when I see them, I feel connected to the outside universe, and life doesn't feel as lonely and isolated anymore. I just feel peace, like there's millions of other entities feeling the same as me, wanting to share the moment with someone, anyone.
I have real people to share moments with now, and for the first time in what seems like 4-5 years now, I have the energy and social network to interact more with people form outside my own head than inside. I finally feel like I'm becoming able to connect with "outside people" again, and people keep telling me I look healthier. Although, that may also be because I've become better at makeup.
I like my own face. I like seeing it in the mirror, and I finally feel like I'm coming to terms with how I look. Wouldn't mind losing a few kilos though. Hello, who wouldn't?
'Ey, just noticed I've kicked another obsessive-compulsive thought; I used to have to say the word 'hello' out loud if I typed it. Dunno why, just did.
I'm not insane anymore! Kidding, I've never been mentally insane. But I feel more confident now that I won't end up a "crazy cat-lady" than I used to, hahaha.
My life all-in-all feels good. I still have some way to go, but I'm more confident now that I'll get there. And I've got good people by my side.
I know most of my posts seem melancholic and pessimistic, especially if you follow the other blog, the one about lists, but I can now assure you, my mental state is... Happier.
Not that I've ever been severely unhappy many times, but I have felt what can best be described as a crippling hopelessness mixed with the fear of being left and forgotten by everyone I love.
I don't have that anymore, thanks to medicines, therapy, and a stronger social network.
... The fact that I am in a relationship which has lasted for more than a month without one of us fretting has also helped a lot, I won't lie to you. It feels good, and I'm happy. I want it to last, I want this person to be in my life one way or another for as long as humanely possible, and it has been forever since I last managed to connect that way with someone. It feels so... Freeing, good, harmonic. I'm not glorifying the whole thing, and that's another thing I wanted to mention since this post is about what I feel good about in my life at the moment. See, I am for once not blinded by those pink-heart-shaped sunglasses people usually put on when in love. I won't lie I am absolutely smitten and utterly in love at the moment, but I'm mature enough now to still stay rational, and to not lie to myself about how things are and stuff.
I'm happy, people. My mind is lighter, the people in there are hibernating, and my days are never the same. I like my life, especially when I see it on the bright side.
What do you guys like about your life? Tell me!
Wednesday, 10 October 2012
I'm homesick.
(there's pictures on the bottom)
People say I talk about Norway a lot. I suppose I do. Especially now, in the fall, I miss the country I've spent a good 16-ish years in. I'm sorry if I bitch about my country alot. People remind me every day how I'm different, how I'm "not really Danish", I can't get over it if I'm reminded all the time.
Leaves are turning red and yellow, the mornings are cold and dark, I can see more and more stars at night.
When I gaze up at the sky, I find myself missing being at home, up on the mountain where no streetlights can obscure my view of the stars. I miss the northern lights dancing with me up there, I miss the way the road sparkles after the night frost, I miss the snow and the cozy fireplaces and my cats and my mother's homeknit socks and all those little things you take for granted while you have them.
I'm not moving back there, Norway is not the country for me, but I can't help but get the blues during fall when I'm serisouly reminded how different and yet similar the two countries are. I find myself, during autumn/fall, often feeling lonely. Nobody else here is from Norway, nobody understands what it's like up there, how strange it is to talk to your mother on the phone, hearing her tell you about how the night frost has set in, while you've still got 19+ out.
I miss the fjords, the mountains, the smell of the moss in august when it reddens, the sound of reindeer and sheep walking around, the cool seabreeze, the sleepless light summer nights where you just run around with your friends up on the mountains until a new day starts. I miss all the good things.
I can't help but feel homesick, I grew up there. I formed my norms and standards there, I've been culturally imprinted and influenced by that place whether I like it or not.
I've been trying all my life to escape Norway, feeling out of place there. I do feel more at home here in Denmark, but I can't help sometimes wish it didn't cost so much and take so long to get home and see the people and places I'm used to seeing every day.
I would never live or settle down there, but for vacations, I wish I could spend more of them in Norway.
I'm sick right now, and I miss my mom. I miss her making me tea, I miss lying on the couch with one or more cats while my mother knits in her corner, and I miss the food she makes.
So, if you see me going quiet or stopping in my tracks and just gazing upwards at the sky, or staring sadly at my feet as we're walking, just remember...
I'm homesick. Give me some slack and a hug, or go away.
People say I talk about Norway a lot. I suppose I do. Especially now, in the fall, I miss the country I've spent a good 16-ish years in. I'm sorry if I bitch about my country alot. People remind me every day how I'm different, how I'm "not really Danish", I can't get over it if I'm reminded all the time.
Leaves are turning red and yellow, the mornings are cold and dark, I can see more and more stars at night.
When I gaze up at the sky, I find myself missing being at home, up on the mountain where no streetlights can obscure my view of the stars. I miss the northern lights dancing with me up there, I miss the way the road sparkles after the night frost, I miss the snow and the cozy fireplaces and my cats and my mother's homeknit socks and all those little things you take for granted while you have them.
I'm not moving back there, Norway is not the country for me, but I can't help but get the blues during fall when I'm serisouly reminded how different and yet similar the two countries are. I find myself, during autumn/fall, often feeling lonely. Nobody else here is from Norway, nobody understands what it's like up there, how strange it is to talk to your mother on the phone, hearing her tell you about how the night frost has set in, while you've still got 19+ out.
I miss the fjords, the mountains, the smell of the moss in august when it reddens, the sound of reindeer and sheep walking around, the cool seabreeze, the sleepless light summer nights where you just run around with your friends up on the mountains until a new day starts. I miss all the good things.
I can't help but feel homesick, I grew up there. I formed my norms and standards there, I've been culturally imprinted and influenced by that place whether I like it or not.
I've been trying all my life to escape Norway, feeling out of place there. I do feel more at home here in Denmark, but I can't help sometimes wish it didn't cost so much and take so long to get home and see the people and places I'm used to seeing every day.
I would never live or settle down there, but for vacations, I wish I could spend more of them in Norway.
I'm sick right now, and I miss my mom. I miss her making me tea, I miss lying on the couch with one or more cats while my mother knits in her corner, and I miss the food she makes.
So, if you see me going quiet or stopping in my tracks and just gazing upwards at the sky, or staring sadly at my feet as we're walking, just remember...
I'm homesick. Give me some slack and a hug, or go away.
Also, here are some pictures I took a couple of years ago in Norway around this time:
The watermarks you can see are from my profile at Deviantart, http://antidaephobia.deviantart.com/
go check it out and comment or something!
go check it out and comment or something!
Sunday, 23 September 2012
Ulvehunger
'Ulvehunger' er en betegnelse for en næsten bundløs sult man føler, selv efter man har spist sig mæt. Du kan mærke at din mave er fuld, men der er stadig den følelse i halsen der siger "så giv mig dog noget mad, for fanden". På grund af en sygdom jeg har, får jeg ulvehunger i perioder. Mediciner jeg får for et andet problem har dog udslettet den ulvehunger, og også den mentale ulvehunger jeg plejede at få.
Og det er mental ulvehunger jeg vil tale lidt om.
Min mentale ulvehunger gik ud på at det føltes som om der var et sort hul inde i mig, hvor andre havde grundlaget for sine følelser.
Den bedste måde at beskrive det på er at få dig til at forestille dig at du svømmer i en bundløs swimmingpool med højt op til kanten. Du har flydevest på, så du drukner aldri, men den platform andre har der, som de kan stå på for at nå op til den meget lange stige, mangler.
Mens andre ikke rigtig følte noget når de ikke var i et bestemt humør, altså trist eller glad, eller et af de mange andre humør, så følte jeg at jeg følte alt for lidt. Selv i situationer der vækkede stærkere følelser, følte jeg at den platform der lagde bunnen, grundlaget, begyndelsen, var erstattet af et hul. Jeg baskede rundt og prøvede så godt jeg kunne at nå den satans stige, og nogen gange fik jeg lige fat i det nederste trin, for så at falde ned hvis jeg prøvede at hejse mig op.
Mine 'mediciner' har givet mig en platform nu, et grundlag at stå på, og det har fjernet hajerne der cirklede rundt længere nede i vandet.
Fordi jeg er blevet så vandt til at kave rundt uden noget at gribe fat i, er det meget uvandt for mig at kunne stå på benene igen, og jeg skal lige lære at finde balansen, og at klatre igen.
Det er en underlig følelse, det at ikke længere føle at jeg føler for meget af ingenting, og jeg er overrasket over hvor meget nemmere jeg kan nå stigen nu hvor jeg står op.
I rigtig lang tid var jeg imod alt der hed antidepressiva. Jeg troede at det kun var en midlertidig løsning til et permanent problem, og kognitiv adfærdsendring er også en væsentlig del af det at blive 'frisk', men jeg ved nu at nogen gange skal man bare have en tilførsel af de kemikalier ens egen hjerne mangler lidt af, før man kan begynde at skabe de ændringer.
Jeg føler det som om, jeg er nødt til at lære mig selv at kende om igen. I så lang tid troede jeg, at noget var galt med mig, fordi mit hoved ikke fungerede på samme måde som andres, og nu hvor det er kemisk mere normalt end før, kan jeg se at dele af den person jeg troede jeg var, ikke var der alligevel.
Hvem fanden er jeg, hvor søren kommer jeg fra, og hvor fuck skal jeg hen?
Det ved jeg ikke, og det har min hjerne holdt mig fra at finde ud af. Nu hvor jeg endelig har chancen, vil jeg gøre mit bedste for at finde ud af netop det.
Nogen ting kan man bare ikke klare selv, og jo hurtigere man indrømmer at man ikke er supermand, jo hurtigere kan man komme videre. Hvis det at tage en pille eller to hver dag er det der skal til, for at jeg ikke er fængslet i min egen mentale svømmepøl, opslugt af en umættelig sult efter at føle noget, hvad som helst, så er det mere end okay med mig.
Ulven sover, hajerne tog afsted, og Anna klatrer.
Det ved jeg ikke, og det har min hjerne holdt mig fra at finde ud af. Nu hvor jeg endelig har chancen, vil jeg gøre mit bedste for at finde ud af netop det.
Nogen ting kan man bare ikke klare selv, og jo hurtigere man indrømmer at man ikke er supermand, jo hurtigere kan man komme videre. Hvis det at tage en pille eller to hver dag er det der skal til, for at jeg ikke er fængslet i min egen mentale svømmepøl, opslugt af en umættelig sult efter at føle noget, hvad som helst, så er det mere end okay med mig.
Ulven sover, hajerne tog afsted, og Anna klatrer.
Thursday, 23 August 2012
What scares me the most
When people find out I have anxiety, the first question they ask is usually "but what are you so afraid of?".
Anxiety is not about fear, it's about a growing anxiousness. Nonetheless, I have taken the liberty of writing down what I am afraid of.
I love making lists, so I'mma do it as a list. Above all else, there are three things that frighten me. I'd like to start the list with one, end it with the other, and put the third one in a random spot. Just for fun.
Here we go, things I'm afraid of:
- Suicide. One of the things that scare me the most, in fact, it scares me shitless and numb, is the fear that my friends will kill themselves. I have very few suicidal friends, but I have many with depression and/or who has/have had a tendency to hurt themselves. I live every day in fear that one day, one of them will kill themselves out of loneliness, and that if I had worked harder to make sure he/she knew how much he/she meant to me, they wouldn't have done it. I know it sounds silly, but it scares me to the point where I have to struggle not to cry when I see scars on their arms or depressed Facebook-statuses. I know that if one person can make a suicidal person know they care, they might not do it, and if someone dies on my watch... It's obviously my fault for being bad at showing people I care.
- Lightning. I am afraid of being truck by lightning to the point where I have nightmares about it. And that says a lot, considering I almost never have what I would call nightmares.
- Muppets. I shit you not, I am afraid of muppets and handpuppets and ventriloquist-dolls and other kinds of dolls with flappy mouths. I hate them, they freak me the fuck out. Those badly timed mouths, the staring, lifeless eyes *shutters*. The only muppet/puppet I was never truely afraid of was the cookie monster. Unlike the other muppets, he always had clear intentions: he wants cookies. Do not tell me how freaking funny the muppet show is, Kermit and Piggy are the worst. Even as a kid I was convinced those two, or at least the latter, were of evil intents.
- The death of a loved one. I know it kind of goes with number one here, but I am seriously very afraid that somehow, someone I love will die without knowing how much I care. And just thinking about maybe someday having to live my life without my siblings, parents, grandparents or bff's is enough to make me cry. I knooow, I'm such a girl :(
- I am afraid that the Buddhists were wrong, and that this life IS the only life we get. I can't stand the crippling pressure that would put on me to make every second count as much as possible, and it does NOT help this next point:
- I am afraid to end this life without having anything positive or worthwhile to show for it. To exit my life and be remembered as 'she who never really made anything of herself"...
- Heights. Don't make me go up in a tall building and expect me to look out the window! I cannot do it!
- Much like the fear of losing a loved one to death, I'm afraid of losing a loved one to stupidity. More correctly, MY stupidity. Most people who know me, knows that while I mean well, I have a tendency to offend people without realizing it. Now, certain people in my life (we're talking just a handful, but still) have a Queen of Hearts sort of view on life. Y'know, "someone has wronged me! Off with their HEEEAAAADS!!!" I am terrified of doing or saying something that puts these queen of hearts over the edge and makes them shut me out of their lives for good like I've seen them to do others who didn't stroke their egoes the right way. I love them, the entire handfull, but it's these people I talk to the least, due to my fear of saying something that will trigger something and anger them.
- Confrontation. I am the shaky leaver of half-angry notes, and I would rather flee the continent than stand up for myself if if can be avoided. In fact, speaking up in class if I'm not voicing a popular opinion causes my body to react in the same way as it would if I was hypoglycemic. (grey, vlammy skin, shivering, freezing, extreme thirst, dizziness, light-headedness), but I am being treated for this.
- Ghosts. Or more correctly, angering them.
I do believe in spirits, and I DO believe it is possible to contact them. However, as a buddhist, I also believe that spirits are best left alone. If you contact spirits via ouiji-boards or other means, and you are not a medium with several years of experience, there is a grave risk that you might not actually get the spirit you meant to invite. And once they're here, many spirits will not let you revoke that invitation, to put it that way. I do NOT want to anger the dead, and as I have nothing to offer them in means of help, I choose to leave them alone.
- And last, but not least... Well, this fear actually consists of two parts. Part one: I am afraid that the people who say that we only have one soul-mate are right, and that I've already squandered this chance being too young or dumb or blind to realize what I had...
Which leads us to part two: I am afraid of having to live the rest of my life without anyone to share it with.
I'm not talking, like, a life-partner or whatever, but without any close friends who actually live the same place as me. Well, I'm not gonna lie, I am a little afraid that I'll never find "true love". In fact, I'm so afraid of it that I've been clinging onto a wrongful conviction of mine (guess which one lololol winnerdoesn't get a cookie) for years because the alternative would mean even less of a chance for me to ever find someone to love and be loved by, and the thought that I might have to spend the rest of my life alone sometimes literally cripples me.
I'm not desperate to be in a relationship (in fact, 'standard' relationships kind of annoy me), and I'm not in a hurry to find a fling or a lover or whatever, but if I haven't at least gotten halfway there by the time I'm 30... I'm just going to give up, buy a big house, and fill it with cats and ferrets and other fluffy creatures. Maybe adopt some starving african kids or orphaned asians. Steal babies from the local hospital, kidnap a homeless person... The possibilities are endless!
Joke aside, I am seriously afraid that I will never meet someone who loves me for ME, not who they think I am or need me to be. Someone who sees past the crazy and the facade I usually put up, and knows how to handle me. Or at least accepts that that's just the way I am, and knows that despite what it might look like, I really am trying. (I'm not always that good at being affectionate =/ )
(- Oh, and I'm also afraid of contracting a fatal disease without knowing it, and not realizing until it's progressed too far for anyone to be able to do anything about it.)
This post didn't turn out as great or profound as I had hoped, but then again... I never said I was great or profound, did I?
Go suck a duck. Or, y'know, tell me what YOU'RE afraid of.
Anxiety is not about fear, it's about a growing anxiousness. Nonetheless, I have taken the liberty of writing down what I am afraid of.
I love making lists, so I'mma do it as a list. Above all else, there are three things that frighten me. I'd like to start the list with one, end it with the other, and put the third one in a random spot. Just for fun.
Here we go, things I'm afraid of:
- Suicide. One of the things that scare me the most, in fact, it scares me shitless and numb, is the fear that my friends will kill themselves. I have very few suicidal friends, but I have many with depression and/or who has/have had a tendency to hurt themselves. I live every day in fear that one day, one of them will kill themselves out of loneliness, and that if I had worked harder to make sure he/she knew how much he/she meant to me, they wouldn't have done it. I know it sounds silly, but it scares me to the point where I have to struggle not to cry when I see scars on their arms or depressed Facebook-statuses. I know that if one person can make a suicidal person know they care, they might not do it, and if someone dies on my watch... It's obviously my fault for being bad at showing people I care.
- Lightning. I am afraid of being truck by lightning to the point where I have nightmares about it. And that says a lot, considering I almost never have what I would call nightmares.
- Muppets. I shit you not, I am afraid of muppets and handpuppets and ventriloquist-dolls and other kinds of dolls with flappy mouths. I hate them, they freak me the fuck out. Those badly timed mouths, the staring, lifeless eyes *shutters*. The only muppet/puppet I was never truely afraid of was the cookie monster. Unlike the other muppets, he always had clear intentions: he wants cookies. Do not tell me how freaking funny the muppet show is, Kermit and Piggy are the worst. Even as a kid I was convinced those two, or at least the latter, were of evil intents.
- The death of a loved one. I know it kind of goes with number one here, but I am seriously very afraid that somehow, someone I love will die without knowing how much I care. And just thinking about maybe someday having to live my life without my siblings, parents, grandparents or bff's is enough to make me cry. I knooow, I'm such a girl :(
- I am afraid that the Buddhists were wrong, and that this life IS the only life we get. I can't stand the crippling pressure that would put on me to make every second count as much as possible, and it does NOT help this next point:
- I am afraid to end this life without having anything positive or worthwhile to show for it. To exit my life and be remembered as 'she who never really made anything of herself"...
- Heights. Don't make me go up in a tall building and expect me to look out the window! I cannot do it!
- Much like the fear of losing a loved one to death, I'm afraid of losing a loved one to stupidity. More correctly, MY stupidity. Most people who know me, knows that while I mean well, I have a tendency to offend people without realizing it. Now, certain people in my life (we're talking just a handful, but still) have a Queen of Hearts sort of view on life. Y'know, "someone has wronged me! Off with their HEEEAAAADS!!!" I am terrified of doing or saying something that puts these queen of hearts over the edge and makes them shut me out of their lives for good like I've seen them to do others who didn't stroke their egoes the right way. I love them, the entire handfull, but it's these people I talk to the least, due to my fear of saying something that will trigger something and anger them.
- Confrontation. I am the shaky leaver of half-angry notes, and I would rather flee the continent than stand up for myself if if can be avoided. In fact, speaking up in class if I'm not voicing a popular opinion causes my body to react in the same way as it would if I was hypoglycemic. (grey, vlammy skin, shivering, freezing, extreme thirst, dizziness, light-headedness), but I am being treated for this.
- Ghosts. Or more correctly, angering them.
I do believe in spirits, and I DO believe it is possible to contact them. However, as a buddhist, I also believe that spirits are best left alone. If you contact spirits via ouiji-boards or other means, and you are not a medium with several years of experience, there is a grave risk that you might not actually get the spirit you meant to invite. And once they're here, many spirits will not let you revoke that invitation, to put it that way. I do NOT want to anger the dead, and as I have nothing to offer them in means of help, I choose to leave them alone.
- And last, but not least... Well, this fear actually consists of two parts. Part one: I am afraid that the people who say that we only have one soul-mate are right, and that I've already squandered this chance being too young or dumb or blind to realize what I had...
Which leads us to part two: I am afraid of having to live the rest of my life without anyone to share it with.
I'm not talking, like, a life-partner or whatever, but without any close friends who actually live the same place as me. Well, I'm not gonna lie, I am a little afraid that I'll never find "true love". In fact, I'm so afraid of it that I've been clinging onto a wrongful conviction of mine (guess which one lololol winner
I'm not desperate to be in a relationship (in fact, 'standard' relationships kind of annoy me), and I'm not in a hurry to find a fling or a lover or whatever, but if I haven't at least gotten halfway there by the time I'm 30... I'm just going to give up, buy a big house, and fill it with cats and ferrets and other fluffy creatures. Maybe adopt some starving african kids or orphaned asians. Steal babies from the local hospital, kidnap a homeless person... The possibilities are endless!
Joke aside, I am seriously afraid that I will never meet someone who loves me for ME, not who they think I am or need me to be. Someone who sees past the crazy and the facade I usually put up, and knows how to handle me. Or at least accepts that that's just the way I am, and knows that despite what it might look like, I really am trying. (I'm not always that good at being affectionate =/ )
(- Oh, and I'm also afraid of contracting a fatal disease without knowing it, and not realizing until it's progressed too far for anyone to be able to do anything about it.)
This post didn't turn out as great or profound as I had hoped, but then again... I never said I was great or profound, did I?
Go suck a duck. Or, y'know, tell me what YOU'RE afraid of.
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