I have found a spot between my husband and the fireplace. I am somehow reminded by everything around me that I not so long ago lived in a mental “mist”. It felt like there was something between me and the world. Like a mist, a fog or even a sheet. I don’t really know what to call it.
It blurred my vision and my mind. It placed a distance between me and everything and everyone else. The mist was there when I couldn’t find the words and it was there when I fucked up all social relations.
It is such a relief to see the world different now. I don’t dare to hope that it doesn’t go down again, but I beg that it won’t. I have spend enough time in that mist.
You, please come and join me out here where things are clearer.
I have been thinking lately about the concept of success. What does it mean? Success is often used about career development, isn’t it. But couldn’t it also refer to other parts of life? Am I successful because I have a functioning social network? Am I successful for moving on from my illness? And is it being success to have a loving child?
I spoke with a friend of mine who expressed that she felt left behind because she had a child. But isn’t that to be successful, I asked. She dismissed it. It is not the success, which society measures by. Would the same count for illnesses?
I do not fell successful in my career. I have just left my temporary position and I am scouting for new opportunities. Yet, I am coming out of three years of depressions. That is success. But why do I not feel successful then? The illness robbed me years of my life. I have successfully defeated it, only to face society’s criteria of success.
I had counselling on my CV. I was asked to remove my work for a mental health charity or prepare myself for questions about it. What would I say then? I have a mental illness but I am well now. That doesn’t sound very successful to me. Even I have incorporated the perspective on mental illness as a stigma. I feel stuck under norms of society.
Over and out.
No more panic attacks, thanks. I had a change of medicine and it changes my life – for the better. I’m better now and I’m loving it. It is a relief and not just to me, to the people around me. I’m still on several kinds of medicine, but with new dosages. And it works. There is hope.
I did some self-coaching from a book (made by KLARHEIT as a calendar/productivity tool). I think it worked. I fell a little more focused than before. I had wondered, however, if this was the right time to do it. I mean, I just had a fall back on my health and I am popping PN meds several times a day. Is this really the time for coaching?
I can’t tell if it is the perfect time, but it doesn’t strike me as a bad time. Many of my, say, life goals remain the same – just with the addition “I not want to be ill again”. Every week the calendar as a space for you to write a focus of the week, and it has boxes to tick if you managed to do it. Today I didn’t. My focus this week is to have more energy and smile more. Neither happened. Instead I had panic attacks on two busses and kept to myself throughout the whole of lunch at work. I considered asking for a sick leave several times today. No that much sunshine and unicorns today. Too bad really.
Over and out.
In my town, we are having a small debate about the competitive culture and depression about youth. We have invited a psychologist, social scientist, priest, politician and a student. I swear it is going to be exciting.
Also, if you are in Denmark, you can buy orange sock as part of the national campaign #DepressionSUCKS. You can get it here and it is pretty awesome
I will keep you posted.
Over and out.
Imagine the feeling of oxapax (benzos) and red wine. Yeah, that feeling I am having right now. The sound track is Disko Partzani by Shantel. I am having a blast. Right now. The rest of the day was kind of crappy. And where am I going with this? To the point that sometimes every little trick counts. The end in this case does justify the means. That is my opinion in this very second. The drugs brings me away from sadness and growing anxiety. It is worth it – until I can get to speak with my psychiatrist in 11 days. Well, ten and a half.
Don’t use my small trick with the alcohol – just take the morale with you: Use the little things to make you feel better.
Over and out.
I’m not ready for another trip as an out-patient at the psychiatric hospital. Not ready. It bloody sucks and I’m afraid of any changes to my meds and what that might do to me. Especially when I feel that I am so close to getting a job. It is the wrong timing as always. But then again, when is the right time to get sick?
I made a drawing for my psychologist to show (and remember) how I feel. You may see it too. It shows my (lack of focus), the motivation to do something, where the anxiety is etc.