Well, it's Sunday once more. I'm sitting on the sofa, watching the tv. You'd think relaxing is the easiest thing in the world. Yet my neck is tense and so are my leg muscles. Being attentive to your own body is still difficult if you're not present. So many other things take up the focus. This makes me wonder why. The fear of not producing anything lurks in the back of my head. That was the inital fear when starting this. Putting to much pressure on myself is just stupid considering this is way less successfull than I was hoping for.
So many thoughts in my head, kind of like having to many tabs open in your browser and I don't which one to focus on. The little fragments of different things telling me that what I need to do. They're mostly things of practical nature I imagine that I need to get over with, or what other might say I need to do. And I can feel a sense of tingling in my feet, an unease very closely linked to how I feel my anxiety. Why am I even writing this again? I feel the urge to just start all over. It won't be good enough, it never will.
I've always felt that if I settle for something it means the same as I fail, or feeling sorry for myself. I was still a student when I had my first session with a therapist. A topic often revisited was differentiating between my grades on exams and me as a person. Being one who had fairly good results in school, my grades came as a shock. It felt like I let myself, and most importantly other people, down. Feeling inferior to my friends only did it worse. Listening to what the therapist said and actually believing it are miles apart, especially when they're current events. Looking back, I can't see why it was so important. Worrying, in general, takes up so much time these days. Worrying over imagined problems and dilemmas. How one knows they're imagined? That's easy. If you have a real problem, you find a solution and do it. The imagined thoughts are created by your depression, grinding and taking up resources, expressed through anxiety and panick attacks. Not much of a themed post, but just writing what I'm thinking.
Trondheim
søndag 31. januar 2016
lørdag 30. januar 2016
Honesty
Being open and honest to friends about your problems is difficult. How does one come to terms with oneself, then? Admitting that you have a problem is a cliché indeed, yet so true. I wouldn't say that I've been in complete denial about my problems but not completely honest, either. A life is as complicated as it is long and therefore some things are easier to be at ease with.
It's a bit confusing looking back 10-15 years. My periods where the panic attacks were easy in the way that I knew that something wasn't right. Finding out what and why were different matters, though. I really want to call the anxiety and panick attacks problems of a more practical nature than the depression even though it might be wrong in the field of study. Panick attacks occur because you think or associate a place, activity, smell, sound etc. with the unpleasant. You've come a long way already by knowing this. Now you can ask yourself why this happens, and if it makes any sense. Putting an irrational thought to the test tones down the credibility of the thought, making it weaker and weaker each time. I've also learned that you can acknowledge the thought you have in your head. Not acknowledging the thought itself but rather that you are thinking, or feeling for that matter, whatever that makes you uncomfortable. Everybody is different and I don't have the ultimate solution. If I did, I'd use it myself.
Depression and social behaviour on the other hand, do I find more difficult to explain and adjust. The heading says "honesty". Well, I know for a fact that it is easy to excuse a certain type of behaviour despite the fact that it might be completely irrational. One example I've previously used is my tendency to meet far too early at meetings or appointments. The excuse I've told myself is that I don't like to be late, which is true. There is still a difference between arriving a few minutes early and half a hour. My social anxiety tries to give reason for the behaviour although it does not make any sense. In my case, I didn't have the ability to question what I was doing. It wasn't untill I got asked about it during group sessions that I got an epiphany. Anxiety kept coming if I didn't was early, and therefore I started to plan and calculate excessively.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
It's a bit confusing looking back 10-15 years. My periods where the panic attacks were easy in the way that I knew that something wasn't right. Finding out what and why were different matters, though. I really want to call the anxiety and panick attacks problems of a more practical nature than the depression even though it might be wrong in the field of study. Panick attacks occur because you think or associate a place, activity, smell, sound etc. with the unpleasant. You've come a long way already by knowing this. Now you can ask yourself why this happens, and if it makes any sense. Putting an irrational thought to the test tones down the credibility of the thought, making it weaker and weaker each time. I've also learned that you can acknowledge the thought you have in your head. Not acknowledging the thought itself but rather that you are thinking, or feeling for that matter, whatever that makes you uncomfortable. Everybody is different and I don't have the ultimate solution. If I did, I'd use it myself.
Depression and social behaviour on the other hand, do I find more difficult to explain and adjust. The heading says "honesty". Well, I know for a fact that it is easy to excuse a certain type of behaviour despite the fact that it might be completely irrational. One example I've previously used is my tendency to meet far too early at meetings or appointments. The excuse I've told myself is that I don't like to be late, which is true. There is still a difference between arriving a few minutes early and half a hour. My social anxiety tries to give reason for the behaviour although it does not make any sense. In my case, I didn't have the ability to question what I was doing. It wasn't untill I got asked about it during group sessions that I got an epiphany. Anxiety kept coming if I didn't was early, and therefore I started to plan and calculate excessively.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
torsdag 28. januar 2016
Setting goals
Days feels very much the same when you're struggling. I know it all too well. You get up in the morning and basically waiting for the evening to arrive so you can go back to bed. Finding something meaningfull during the daytime is a struggle by itself. I think of it as a form of cabin fever. Maybe they even overlap and it's difficult to see where one stops and the other starts. One thing on the agenda is more than enough for one day. It exhausts you. You can divide a task into smaller goals and make it more likely to achieve. Let's say you need to do some shopping. First goal is to walk to the wardrobe. While you're there you might as well get dressed. It won't hurt, right? Since you're dressed now, why not go outside? The store is only a short walk away, and you're dressed and outside. I've used this train of thoughts many times; setting smaller goals so it'd be a bit absurd not continue to the next one. I know that I can go home again if I need to, having it in my head as a safetynet.
That's how I've done it on a day to day basis. One day is a smaller goal in a longer period of tim you need to get through. I think that when a goal is far ahead you'd need something to look forward to as opposed to the coping technique previously mentioned that is more for practical dilemmas. My reward for battling depression has usually been going to concerts. It's a bit odd, though, because it usually involves travelling, spending many hours with thousands of people around me. The day before or even the same day as I'm travelling can include anxiety despite me looking forward to going. My reaction could be like that because I'm unsure about what's going to happen. I can't plan anything in detail other than the actual travelling. Being at the concert has never been a problem.
As a last thing, never compare yourself to other. There is a reason for setting the bar of those goals you've set. What other are able to do will be to set the bar way too high. Also, an accompishment is an accomplishment. Give yourself credit without devaluing what you've done. That's only counter-productive.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
That's how I've done it on a day to day basis. One day is a smaller goal in a longer period of tim you need to get through. I think that when a goal is far ahead you'd need something to look forward to as opposed to the coping technique previously mentioned that is more for practical dilemmas. My reward for battling depression has usually been going to concerts. It's a bit odd, though, because it usually involves travelling, spending many hours with thousands of people around me. The day before or even the same day as I'm travelling can include anxiety despite me looking forward to going. My reaction could be like that because I'm unsure about what's going to happen. I can't plan anything in detail other than the actual travelling. Being at the concert has never been a problem.
As a last thing, never compare yourself to other. There is a reason for setting the bar of those goals you've set. What other are able to do will be to set the bar way too high. Also, an accompishment is an accomplishment. Give yourself credit without devaluing what you've done. That's only counter-productive.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
Loose threads
My years at the therapists where I live now in 2009. I had put 1,5 year at the University behind me. I can't remember if mental health was ever discussed, mine or in general. Forming friendships was fairly easy. Finding who you could entrust about personal stuff was a different matter. The past was behind me. I thought my years of struggling with anxiety were over, as if it was a one time occurance that I had concurred. Some people might be bit scared or intimidated if you share personal thoughts right away and I absolutely did not want that to happen.
There must have been a change in my behaviour after I hit the wall 08/09. The most obvious sign was probably that I was barely at campus anymore opposed to spending time there even if there wasn't a class to attend or self study. I thought nobody would notice anyway as I convinced myself that nobody cared or I wasn't worthy of being cared about. Being at campus gave me panick attacks eventhough I had one class a week. That was enough. I haven't actually asked people what happened while I was away, or if I was missed in the first place. Nobody asked me directly, understandably enough.
We all behave differently according to our surroundings or what is demanded from you. I put on a mask, shielding me from every impression the outside could provide. Good things were just as bad as the negative. I didn't want to have fun no matter for how short period of time. The depression made me think that beng happy was not the ordinary and a reaction would follow. Which it did. I'd be very tired and receptive to more anxiety if I had been social the day before. Testing how far I could go before I felt any discomfort was like dipping a toe in the cold ocean. Pushing me often helped. An appointment of some sort that I felt obligated to keep usually did the trick. One step at a time.
Around November 09, I think, the task of shutting everybody out was taking its toll by itself. The mask was no longer needed. Writing a mail to tell everybody I considered as close friends what was up, kind of like how I've done here. The reception was overwhelming and unexpected. I meant just as much to them as I did before. The depression didn't matter and I was so happy for that. The fear of scarying people away is always there, even stronger when you're sharing something with your friends. I know this is unstructured and everything, more like a rabble when I don't have a specific thing to write about. So cheers for reading.
There must have been a change in my behaviour after I hit the wall 08/09. The most obvious sign was probably that I was barely at campus anymore opposed to spending time there even if there wasn't a class to attend or self study. I thought nobody would notice anyway as I convinced myself that nobody cared or I wasn't worthy of being cared about. Being at campus gave me panick attacks eventhough I had one class a week. That was enough. I haven't actually asked people what happened while I was away, or if I was missed in the first place. Nobody asked me directly, understandably enough.
We all behave differently according to our surroundings or what is demanded from you. I put on a mask, shielding me from every impression the outside could provide. Good things were just as bad as the negative. I didn't want to have fun no matter for how short period of time. The depression made me think that beng happy was not the ordinary and a reaction would follow. Which it did. I'd be very tired and receptive to more anxiety if I had been social the day before. Testing how far I could go before I felt any discomfort was like dipping a toe in the cold ocean. Pushing me often helped. An appointment of some sort that I felt obligated to keep usually did the trick. One step at a time.
Around November 09, I think, the task of shutting everybody out was taking its toll by itself. The mask was no longer needed. Writing a mail to tell everybody I considered as close friends what was up, kind of like how I've done here. The reception was overwhelming and unexpected. I meant just as much to them as I did before. The depression didn't matter and I was so happy for that. The fear of scarying people away is always there, even stronger when you're sharing something with your friends. I know this is unstructured and everything, more like a rabble when I don't have a specific thing to write about. So cheers for reading.
tirsdag 26. januar 2016
A regular day
Gettng dressed, heads outside. Weather could be just as it is now, or completely different. You don't observe and you don't care. Focus is inwards as each foot is bringing you one step closer to her.
Shivering on the bus isn't because it's cold. Excitement? Afraid? Relief? I don't know. You sit and watch everybody else that passes by. Staring, with head locked in one direction and hoping noone you know enters the bus.
A deep breath after exiting the bus. There's no way back. Some on the same bus might even head your way. Meeting a person walking the other side is highly likely. You might see the same person at the same place every week. It's almost as if you know each other. No need for words, gazing eyes speak louder than words. Then he or she is gone. Thoughts start to spin. Muscles twitching snaps you back to reality. Each session is different yet very much the same. An internal struggle between deamons and logic will take place with only one winner.
Stepping inside, hearing your own footsteps, proving your existence. Yet you still find it difficult to believe. Mind feels sedated. doubting every desicion. One step closer. One more. Waiting room feels like a safe haven. Sitting down on the sofa, finding a magazine to pretend reading, Only thing in your head is all the other people waiting. Feeling their eyes as they judge you, mocking you for what happened yesterday, last week or five years ago. It doesn't matter. You blew it and you know it. A familiar voice says your name, it's now or never.
Clothes are hanged on the coatrack. She invites you to sit down in the chair you've spent countless hours. Visual and audible impressions remind you of last time. Usual chit-chat and summary of last week. Nervous and scared. Wanting to bring up a topic and actually saying it are two different things. No return once the sentence is under way. Shivering and stomach ache returns while the impression of exposing your soul. My own thoughts? How does one know what to think when you don't believe what you're thinking?
Clock is ticking. 45 minutes later and you've gone through the entire spectre of feelings. It's over for this week and you're reliefed at the same time as you want to go on. Same day, same time? A quick look at the people waiting for their turn. There's nothing you can do. Sometimes it's easier to not care. Walking back to the bus for the ride home. Waiting for the night to fall and time to sleep. That's how it often went.
Shivering on the bus isn't because it's cold. Excitement? Afraid? Relief? I don't know. You sit and watch everybody else that passes by. Staring, with head locked in one direction and hoping noone you know enters the bus.
A deep breath after exiting the bus. There's no way back. Some on the same bus might even head your way. Meeting a person walking the other side is highly likely. You might see the same person at the same place every week. It's almost as if you know each other. No need for words, gazing eyes speak louder than words. Then he or she is gone. Thoughts start to spin. Muscles twitching snaps you back to reality. Each session is different yet very much the same. An internal struggle between deamons and logic will take place with only one winner.
Stepping inside, hearing your own footsteps, proving your existence. Yet you still find it difficult to believe. Mind feels sedated. doubting every desicion. One step closer. One more. Waiting room feels like a safe haven. Sitting down on the sofa, finding a magazine to pretend reading, Only thing in your head is all the other people waiting. Feeling their eyes as they judge you, mocking you for what happened yesterday, last week or five years ago. It doesn't matter. You blew it and you know it. A familiar voice says your name, it's now or never.
Clothes are hanged on the coatrack. She invites you to sit down in the chair you've spent countless hours. Visual and audible impressions remind you of last time. Usual chit-chat and summary of last week. Nervous and scared. Wanting to bring up a topic and actually saying it are two different things. No return once the sentence is under way. Shivering and stomach ache returns while the impression of exposing your soul. My own thoughts? How does one know what to think when you don't believe what you're thinking?
Clock is ticking. 45 minutes later and you've gone through the entire spectre of feelings. It's over for this week and you're reliefed at the same time as you want to go on. Same day, same time? A quick look at the people waiting for their turn. There's nothing you can do. Sometimes it's easier to not care. Walking back to the bus for the ride home. Waiting for the night to fall and time to sleep. That's how it often went.
mandag 25. januar 2016
Me, food and anxiety
We've just entered 2016 and there are still things difficult to talk about, eating disorders are among them. Wether it is more shameful for a grown up person than a teenager is an interesting question and even harder to answer. My impression is that boys who struggle are having a hard time as it is an untouched subject. Only a few dare to be vocal about it meanwhile I think more girls are being open and honest. I was unsure in the beginning about writing. What convinced me was that I no more didn't see why I shouldn't.
My relationship with food is so complex and strange that I don't know what to call it. First of all, I'm known to be the most fussy eater on the planet. I've never eaten any fruit or vegetables since I was a kid aside from the occasional apple in kindergarten. And it's not because my parents or everybody else for that matter didn't try. I either spat it out or just didn't want to try, stubborn as I was. This has continously been commented during meals and it has frustrated me a lot; giving me the sensation of failure and shame of not doing what everybody else does. The mental barrier is so strong I get panicked when trying to eat vegetables for dinner. My diet is bad, I'm well aware of that. At least I'm eating something, which hasn't been always the case.
I still remember the first time it happened. I was a kid, not even started attending school. We had chicken for dinner. Dad must've been away because I sat on his chair. I suddenly freeze while taking a bite. The way to describe it was as if all the muscles you use for swallowing food were tightened, making swallowing really difficult. The body can remember quite a lot only by using its senses. How it felt, what it smelled like and how I felt like in general are still memories that I remember. I struggled with each bite however how small it was, wanting to throw up, got scared and ran to my room. This lasted for several days and I the little I ate was dry bread. Suddenly one day I was back to normal. Incidents have happened more than once during my lifetime.
Probably the most noticable occurance happened while I stayed at home from school, or right before, during Christmas 2005. My anxiety and panic attacks were at an all time high, leaving food and eating to seem pointless. Nutrition milk bought at the pharmacy became a substitute for food. The flavour was supposed to be chocolate. I remember it as a really foul tasting thing. Christmas must be the worst time of the year for someone who struggles with an eating disorder. There is so much food and you always eat, either cookies, cakes or big dinners.
Eating in public is connected to my social anxiety. I've had small situations eating with friends where I just had to leave. The smell of food is unbearable. It is usually not a problem, though. I'm good as long as I don't think about that it might happen. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. Anxiety isn't necessary as a trigger. It might come out of the blue.
My relationship with food is so complex and strange that I don't know what to call it. First of all, I'm known to be the most fussy eater on the planet. I've never eaten any fruit or vegetables since I was a kid aside from the occasional apple in kindergarten. And it's not because my parents or everybody else for that matter didn't try. I either spat it out or just didn't want to try, stubborn as I was. This has continously been commented during meals and it has frustrated me a lot; giving me the sensation of failure and shame of not doing what everybody else does. The mental barrier is so strong I get panicked when trying to eat vegetables for dinner. My diet is bad, I'm well aware of that. At least I'm eating something, which hasn't been always the case.
I still remember the first time it happened. I was a kid, not even started attending school. We had chicken for dinner. Dad must've been away because I sat on his chair. I suddenly freeze while taking a bite. The way to describe it was as if all the muscles you use for swallowing food were tightened, making swallowing really difficult. The body can remember quite a lot only by using its senses. How it felt, what it smelled like and how I felt like in general are still memories that I remember. I struggled with each bite however how small it was, wanting to throw up, got scared and ran to my room. This lasted for several days and I the little I ate was dry bread. Suddenly one day I was back to normal. Incidents have happened more than once during my lifetime.
Probably the most noticable occurance happened while I stayed at home from school, or right before, during Christmas 2005. My anxiety and panic attacks were at an all time high, leaving food and eating to seem pointless. Nutrition milk bought at the pharmacy became a substitute for food. The flavour was supposed to be chocolate. I remember it as a really foul tasting thing. Christmas must be the worst time of the year for someone who struggles with an eating disorder. There is so much food and you always eat, either cookies, cakes or big dinners.
Eating in public is connected to my social anxiety. I've had small situations eating with friends where I just had to leave. The smell of food is unbearable. It is usually not a problem, though. I'm good as long as I don't think about that it might happen. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. Anxiety isn't necessary as a trigger. It might come out of the blue.
søndag 24. januar 2016
The concept of growing up
How do you know when you're a grown up? I thought as a kid it was a huge transition, either physically or mentally but I don't feel any different than what I did 15 years ago. The only difference is I'm paying bills and live on my own. My sisters are people I've looked up to as long as I can remember, eventhough I've been taller than them for quite some time. They've been rolemodels for me regarding school and life in general and I've always compared me and my accomplishments to theirs. In retrospect one could say I've done it too much, blaming myself if I've done something okay and they did better. It's the ever struggle of me wanting others to be proud of me.
This impression of them has adjusted itself after I moved away from home. Living at home is so different than living on your own. I couldn't even imagine myself during my teens how my life would be as a grown up, With no experiences you don't have anything to compare with.
When I was a kid I had countless of different jobs I wanted to do as a grown up, and most of them involved uniform of some sort. Firefighter was a reoccuring dream occupation. Somewhere down the line I put aside all my thought about the future. The life of a teenager is difficult enough, so worrying about the future is unnecessary. Some have a dream early on of what career they want to pursue. I didn't have anything. I guess my self esteem dragged me down again, not letting me see the possibilities.
My initial thought was to be working with anything related to history as I've got a bachelor degree and it is an interest of mine. A series of random events made me think otherwise. I've now worked at different supermarkets for almost four years and I still enjoy it surprisingly enough. Working at a supermarket is a job often looked down upon by many. I had no clue what I was getting myself into. Panic struck me hard after the first day, I thought I wasn't capable of doing it, but apparently I am and I like being appreciated by my coworkers. So why should I care about the job isn't among the best paid ones, or that it is a lot of manual labor, being shouted at by customers? I don't. Just as proud I was to graduate from college I am proud to have a job; proving and showing myself that I can. Precisely like Thomas the tank engine.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
This impression of them has adjusted itself after I moved away from home. Living at home is so different than living on your own. I couldn't even imagine myself during my teens how my life would be as a grown up, With no experiences you don't have anything to compare with.
When I was a kid I had countless of different jobs I wanted to do as a grown up, and most of them involved uniform of some sort. Firefighter was a reoccuring dream occupation. Somewhere down the line I put aside all my thought about the future. The life of a teenager is difficult enough, so worrying about the future is unnecessary. Some have a dream early on of what career they want to pursue. I didn't have anything. I guess my self esteem dragged me down again, not letting me see the possibilities.
My initial thought was to be working with anything related to history as I've got a bachelor degree and it is an interest of mine. A series of random events made me think otherwise. I've now worked at different supermarkets for almost four years and I still enjoy it surprisingly enough. Working at a supermarket is a job often looked down upon by many. I had no clue what I was getting myself into. Panic struck me hard after the first day, I thought I wasn't capable of doing it, but apparently I am and I like being appreciated by my coworkers. So why should I care about the job isn't among the best paid ones, or that it is a lot of manual labor, being shouted at by customers? I don't. Just as proud I was to graduate from college I am proud to have a job; proving and showing myself that I can. Precisely like Thomas the tank engine.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
fredag 22. januar 2016
Hello, me. Meet the real me.
Thought I'd do an experiment and let the irrational side of me speak, to let the reader see how the mind is affected by the depressive thoughts. If you've read the previous posts you see that my self esteem has been a long time foe of mine. How do you cope outside with other people? What goes on inside your head? Sometimes you just don't know.
I wish I could have more people reading this. This is important to me and could be an eye opener for some. When the result isn't as expected one often starts to wonder why. My mind is channeled to think that it's me. It's always my fault. People don't like me, those who I call friends don't want anything to do with me, I'm not good enough, I don't anything to contribute with, I'm stupid etc. This is me dragging myself down and giving into the the depression.
All of this circles inside my mind when I fail, or just being around people. Feeling alone in a crowded room is an oxymoron and yet so true. You let all the other people carry on with the talking. Why won't I say a word? Scared. I need to perform and have the friendship as an achievement. But also, scared of being exposed, dropping the mask. I'm now at a point where I don't try to hide my problems, and at the same time it isn't an icebreaker. I often wonder if people around me act the way they do because they know or suspect that I'm uncomfortable. But do they? I can't tell. I'm not a mindreader. One would often give a person the benefit of the doubt. That's not easy when you're depressed. You use the behaviour of other people as proof to what you're telling yourself. Bring out your fanclub again, the ones you can trust. They're the closest friend of yours and more than likely understand the situation. The important part is that although you're struggling and having a hard time, the condition is never a part of who you are or part of your identity.
I wish I could have more people reading this. This is important to me and could be an eye opener for some. When the result isn't as expected one often starts to wonder why. My mind is channeled to think that it's me. It's always my fault. People don't like me, those who I call friends don't want anything to do with me, I'm not good enough, I don't anything to contribute with, I'm stupid etc. This is me dragging myself down and giving into the the depression.
All of this circles inside my mind when I fail, or just being around people. Feeling alone in a crowded room is an oxymoron and yet so true. You let all the other people carry on with the talking. Why won't I say a word? Scared. I need to perform and have the friendship as an achievement. But also, scared of being exposed, dropping the mask. I'm now at a point where I don't try to hide my problems, and at the same time it isn't an icebreaker. I often wonder if people around me act the way they do because they know or suspect that I'm uncomfortable. But do they? I can't tell. I'm not a mindreader. One would often give a person the benefit of the doubt. That's not easy when you're depressed. You use the behaviour of other people as proof to what you're telling yourself. Bring out your fanclub again, the ones you can trust. They're the closest friend of yours and more than likely understand the situation. The important part is that although you're struggling and having a hard time, the condition is never a part of who you are or part of your identity.
torsdag 21. januar 2016
Muscles and mind
Writing these posts has made me think back and remember things I had completely forgot about. One such thing was my sessions with physicaltherapy during the period I was at home from school. The idea is that your state of mind affects you physically and vice versa. I didn't have anything to lose so I just went with it and see what it was all about.
My anxiety during this time was quite high and it made me quite tense. The brain told my muscles to be on alert mode in case an imaginery threat appeared. Each session started with the physicaltherapist (pt) made me stand on the floor with my bare feet. Didn't have to do anything, just standing there to get in contact with the floor. It was cold but not too cold. I'd stand the way I thought was natural and see myself in a mirror, before trying to relax in my neck, shoulders and feet. Feeling and seeing the difference was vast, and weird. Relaxing felt silly and it gave me a bad posture. Or so I at least thought, but it was the depression and low self esteem that were talking. The difference between hearing and to listen is also present here. You need to get in touch with your body and how it feels.
These sessions were more massage than physicaltherapy, at least from my point of view. The pt massaged my tense muscles, especially in my neck. She could pinch me as hard as she could and I wouldn't say anything. I could definitely feel it but I was somehow made not to. It might have been that I didn't want to bother or I didn't want to appear weak. How to describe this feeling is difficult. I guess it felt like regular pain before turning into a sensation of heat or warmth. This became a routine for every session and muscle she massaged. The pinching was to make me exhale and relax my muscles, I guess, as I'd lay still, holding my breath a bit and simply became a reciever of the pain. Same result when pinching the back of my leg; I didn't say a word or move. She had to ask me if I felt any pain and I confirmed again. Simple stretching was part of the routine, which I didn't mind at all. Arms as well as feet got massaged and stretched, helped me relax and take more deep breaths.
These sessions made me really exhausted and tired eventhough I didn't exercise in any way. The regular sessions with a psychologist have always made me tired, too. My guess is that you have to use your mind in a way you don't use very often, or maybe one distances oneself from on purpose. Our society makes us rush and stress about all day. We rarely stop to listen, observe and feel how it is to live. Hiking alone in the woods can make you use your senses; what do you smell, listen to the birds, watch the nature and think what a fantastic achievement you are, just because you are you. And don't let a schedule dictate how you're feeling.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
My anxiety during this time was quite high and it made me quite tense. The brain told my muscles to be on alert mode in case an imaginery threat appeared. Each session started with the physicaltherapist (pt) made me stand on the floor with my bare feet. Didn't have to do anything, just standing there to get in contact with the floor. It was cold but not too cold. I'd stand the way I thought was natural and see myself in a mirror, before trying to relax in my neck, shoulders and feet. Feeling and seeing the difference was vast, and weird. Relaxing felt silly and it gave me a bad posture. Or so I at least thought, but it was the depression and low self esteem that were talking. The difference between hearing and to listen is also present here. You need to get in touch with your body and how it feels.
These sessions were more massage than physicaltherapy, at least from my point of view. The pt massaged my tense muscles, especially in my neck. She could pinch me as hard as she could and I wouldn't say anything. I could definitely feel it but I was somehow made not to. It might have been that I didn't want to bother or I didn't want to appear weak. How to describe this feeling is difficult. I guess it felt like regular pain before turning into a sensation of heat or warmth. This became a routine for every session and muscle she massaged. The pinching was to make me exhale and relax my muscles, I guess, as I'd lay still, holding my breath a bit and simply became a reciever of the pain. Same result when pinching the back of my leg; I didn't say a word or move. She had to ask me if I felt any pain and I confirmed again. Simple stretching was part of the routine, which I didn't mind at all. Arms as well as feet got massaged and stretched, helped me relax and take more deep breaths.
These sessions made me really exhausted and tired eventhough I didn't exercise in any way. The regular sessions with a psychologist have always made me tired, too. My guess is that you have to use your mind in a way you don't use very often, or maybe one distances oneself from on purpose. Our society makes us rush and stress about all day. We rarely stop to listen, observe and feel how it is to live. Hiking alone in the woods can make you use your senses; what do you smell, listen to the birds, watch the nature and think what a fantastic achievement you are, just because you are you. And don't let a schedule dictate how you're feeling.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
tirsdag 19. januar 2016
Time, subjective or objective?
Time as we know it in our society is considered as a thing we mostly agree, we don't argue about what time it is. Yet we claim that time flies when we are having fun. There is a reason for me starting like this. Some are very relaxed about time and arriving places. That is not me. As I previously have mentioned, intense planning is a strategy I've turned to for reducing my social anxiety. As a rational human being, I know it's more or less counterproductive. Planning when I need to go to the bus, which bus I need to take, which route from the bus to the place I'm going to, it all reduces my stress and anxiety right after I've done the whole thing. It doesn't calm me over a long period of time, though.
Every day untill the event the anxiety comes back, more or less on the same level. Relaxing can finally be done when I'm at the event.
What I'm most scared of is getting late and therefore I plan there after. The result is obvious: I'm always the first guest to arrive, usually ridiculously early. As embarrasing and shameful this might be, it's still less embarrasing than if I were to be late.
Both in my regular sessions and group sessions I've been asked what about everybody else who do arrive late and don't seem to care. My rules for myself don't apply to everybody else as they are not me. I don't get mad, just frustrated at them. I do get angry at myself, if I'm late for once or if I let myself be pushed around by my anxiety. It's the famous Catch 22.
I can somewhat deal with the anxiety when I'm travelling to and from places on a routine basis, like to and from work, for example. As long as I do everything at predetermined times, it is ok. Stress peaks if I'm delayed, though, so I rather not do that. Same thing if I'm with other people who don't understand my need to be early and plan ahead. I can feel the anxiety trying to create the sentences, as a matter of fact.
As a closure, I have some advice or tips for anyone who is a friend of someone like me. Please try to understand. And if not understand, respect that we're different. I also would like to say that being impulsive and slow when heading out, is a nightmare. So if you are one who takes some time to get ready, that's okay. Don't get stressed because we decided to get ready too late. I'm very easily stressed when other people are stressed.
Every day untill the event the anxiety comes back, more or less on the same level. Relaxing can finally be done when I'm at the event.
What I'm most scared of is getting late and therefore I plan there after. The result is obvious: I'm always the first guest to arrive, usually ridiculously early. As embarrasing and shameful this might be, it's still less embarrasing than if I were to be late.
Both in my regular sessions and group sessions I've been asked what about everybody else who do arrive late and don't seem to care. My rules for myself don't apply to everybody else as they are not me. I don't get mad, just frustrated at them. I do get angry at myself, if I'm late for once or if I let myself be pushed around by my anxiety. It's the famous Catch 22.
I can somewhat deal with the anxiety when I'm travelling to and from places on a routine basis, like to and from work, for example. As long as I do everything at predetermined times, it is ok. Stress peaks if I'm delayed, though, so I rather not do that. Same thing if I'm with other people who don't understand my need to be early and plan ahead. I can feel the anxiety trying to create the sentences, as a matter of fact.
As a closure, I have some advice or tips for anyone who is a friend of someone like me. Please try to understand. And if not understand, respect that we're different. I also would like to say that being impulsive and slow when heading out, is a nightmare. So if you are one who takes some time to get ready, that's okay. Don't get stressed because we decided to get ready too late. I'm very easily stressed when other people are stressed.
Cut yourself some slack
Life isn't easy, that much I know. If you are in a recovery process the goal is often in sight. You see the goal and you want to reach it so badly. You often make the assumption that once you've made on step, you can only go forward. Sometimes we are impatent, trying to go forward too quickly.
Setbacks might and will occur. One might forget about the goal you sat or don't believe that you will make it. Therefore you need to remind yourself about the bumps, which aren't where you end up. I have a tendency to give up if something goes against me. The anxiety and panic attacks act like a devil sitting on your shoulder, telling you lies about life, that this is how it's supposed to be. How strange it may sound, embracing the illness is a common occurance for my part. It feels safe and comforting, a sensation you know and if you dare to challenge it, it'll only become stronger.
Earlier today I read about a boss in a company who came up with the idea of a "pyjamas day". The employees only needed to send a text saying "pyjamas day" to their boss if they felt the need to take a day off. No specification of why was needed. I think we should do the same with ourselves. We are our own bosses, after all. Allow yourself to take an extra breath of air and relax. It's not the end of the world if it is difficult to start doing chores one day. Blaming yourself is the last thing you should do. Let's face it, will it get any easier the next time if you blame yourself? Now it would be a good time to use your fanclub. Imagine what they would say if they were with you, or better yet contact them. Asking for a minute or two when feeling down is perfectly legal.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
mandag 18. januar 2016
Showing yourself
One of the many topics from my sessions were the ability to show yourself and acknowledging your value as a human being. I've been shy from a very young age and didn't want to be any bother. If asked about a meaning regarding a practical dilemma I usually say that either alternative would be fine. That's was very often not the case.
For some reason I've always felt the need to please everybody eventhough I know I can't. My self esteem isn't exactly helping, making me think that I'm less worth than everybody else. I can only guess, but I think this is connected to my childhood. Climbing trees and scrubbing knees weren't my things as kids usually do. I listened to my parents when spoken to and therefore didn't push any boundaries or exploring.
The school years were filled with shyness and modesty. I usually did well on tests. Giving myself credit wasn't part of the deal I had with myself. It was the least I could do, I thought, did only what was expected. Graded tests were often found on the bottom of my backpack at the end of the school year, torn to pieces. Telling my parents was never considered so they always got a surprise when I casually found an old test.
Bragging about good test results to my classmates was never my thing. I was afraid I'd be bullied or something for being a nerd yet it didn't happen. Maybe my football skills "saved" me in a way from being a stereotypical nerd as I had many friends. Some struggled a bit with the subjects but were still very friendly.
The later years have reversed the roles a bit, especially at the University. All of my fellow students were quite intelligent and always did good on exams. I had to really struggle for a poor grade. That made me ashamed of myself; questioning myself, my intelligence and if I deserved to be among my friends in the first place. The fear of ending up alone made my choices. It was better to feel like the stupid one than having no friends at all.
I guess all this changed a bit after I burned myself out December 2008. One class was all I could manage during the spring 2009. To barely be on campus was strange; spending time on campus was a thing I liked. Now I had to force myself to the one class I had and force myself to stay on campus, being around people and friends to not isolating myself completely. The surprise of friends still wanted to have me around, was big and very emotional. Even today I fight against the feeling of lonelyness and being less worth than anybody else.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
For some reason I've always felt the need to please everybody eventhough I know I can't. My self esteem isn't exactly helping, making me think that I'm less worth than everybody else. I can only guess, but I think this is connected to my childhood. Climbing trees and scrubbing knees weren't my things as kids usually do. I listened to my parents when spoken to and therefore didn't push any boundaries or exploring.
The school years were filled with shyness and modesty. I usually did well on tests. Giving myself credit wasn't part of the deal I had with myself. It was the least I could do, I thought, did only what was expected. Graded tests were often found on the bottom of my backpack at the end of the school year, torn to pieces. Telling my parents was never considered so they always got a surprise when I casually found an old test.
Bragging about good test results to my classmates was never my thing. I was afraid I'd be bullied or something for being a nerd yet it didn't happen. Maybe my football skills "saved" me in a way from being a stereotypical nerd as I had many friends. Some struggled a bit with the subjects but were still very friendly.
The later years have reversed the roles a bit, especially at the University. All of my fellow students were quite intelligent and always did good on exams. I had to really struggle for a poor grade. That made me ashamed of myself; questioning myself, my intelligence and if I deserved to be among my friends in the first place. The fear of ending up alone made my choices. It was better to feel like the stupid one than having no friends at all.
I guess all this changed a bit after I burned myself out December 2008. One class was all I could manage during the spring 2009. To barely be on campus was strange; spending time on campus was a thing I liked. Now I had to force myself to the one class I had and force myself to stay on campus, being around people and friends to not isolating myself completely. The surprise of friends still wanted to have me around, was big and very emotional. Even today I fight against the feeling of lonelyness and being less worth than anybody else.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
lørdag 16. januar 2016
Group therapy sessions and regular sessions
Your guess is as good as mine when it comes to guessing how many different types of therapy there are to cure illnesses or phobias. I've only tried two, which is two more than most people. A session alone with a psychologist is probably the most common though. It starts out with you telling the psychologist why you're there, very roughly in the start, and then you make sort of a plan together with how you should progress. I remember my plan was pushed aside quite quickly. My reason for seeing a psychologist was social anxiety and depression, or so I thought. I didn't realize until well in the sessions that it was more complicated than that. We went sometimes really far back in my life to find the reasons and then not so far back.
The sessions were often exhausting. Remembering back to times you've tried to forget is hard enough but it's not untill you voice them to a person they become real. You are exposing yourself completely, which I've had no problem with. The psychologist is a person you don't know, so you can set aside any feelings of guilt or fear of the person telling other people without consent.
Fall 2011 was the time I started doing group sessions and I participated in the group untill last summer. With one session each week except for the summer and holidays, I've been at maybe a hundred of them. It feels like it anyway. Nervous and a bit excited I entered the room for the first time. I had no idea of what I was getting myself into. Every time you see a group session on TV you see a lot of chairs formin a circle, and it was exactly how this was. The other ones in my group were there because of similar reasons as I had. You think you're the only one having the problems you've got and suddenly you are one out of seven; how marvellous it is. How each session should be was much up to us. Either we could talk about a specific topic or we could tell what's been going on since last session.
The group sessions gave as much help as the regular sessions I'd say. However, I don't think I'd be ready to join untill I had got to know myself better and be more confident on who I am and say what's on my mind. The benefit of having people in the same situation, in the same age group, is big. You get to discuss on a serious level, give and recieve advices from your peers. This might sound strange but it is easier to listen and believe what a person tells you to do, rather than you saying it to yourself. My self esteem is quite low and I'm a master at questioning any thought I get. The pessimistic me will always find a way to be negative. So, if there's any questions, leave me a comment and I'll get back to you.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
The sessions were often exhausting. Remembering back to times you've tried to forget is hard enough but it's not untill you voice them to a person they become real. You are exposing yourself completely, which I've had no problem with. The psychologist is a person you don't know, so you can set aside any feelings of guilt or fear of the person telling other people without consent.
Fall 2011 was the time I started doing group sessions and I participated in the group untill last summer. With one session each week except for the summer and holidays, I've been at maybe a hundred of them. It feels like it anyway. Nervous and a bit excited I entered the room for the first time. I had no idea of what I was getting myself into. Every time you see a group session on TV you see a lot of chairs formin a circle, and it was exactly how this was. The other ones in my group were there because of similar reasons as I had. You think you're the only one having the problems you've got and suddenly you are one out of seven; how marvellous it is. How each session should be was much up to us. Either we could talk about a specific topic or we could tell what's been going on since last session.
The group sessions gave as much help as the regular sessions I'd say. However, I don't think I'd be ready to join untill I had got to know myself better and be more confident on who I am and say what's on my mind. The benefit of having people in the same situation, in the same age group, is big. You get to discuss on a serious level, give and recieve advices from your peers. This might sound strange but it is easier to listen and believe what a person tells you to do, rather than you saying it to yourself. My self esteem is quite low and I'm a master at questioning any thought I get. The pessimistic me will always find a way to be negative. So, if there's any questions, leave me a comment and I'll get back to you.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
Do you know what you feel?
Ever since a kid has started to
talk the parents teach different aspects of the language. For example, they
teach why someone is sad, happy or angry and how one can differentiate between
the different emotions. Dealing with mental illness is taking one step further.
My knowledge about my own feelings is way higher than it was in the beginning when I got ill. I wasn't able to put words to what I felt and it was so frustrating because I couldn't communicate to my parents what the matter was. And in return, they didn't know how they could help. It was a bit of a stalemate. Panick attacks were scary in the beginning because of the way I felt. All I knew was that something wasn't right but not why.
I've also received a lot of help from my therapy sessions on how to label a physical feeling to an emotion or thought. My impression is that you demystify the illness when it is less abstract. It also helps you to think more rationally. When you have a panick attack, you've had a thought or reaction to something and you haven't even noticed it. It is almost like the brain has trained itself to make a conclusion automatically and start the reaction that feels like a panick attack. A wider vocabulary can help you to ask yourself questions like "what am I doing right now", "what do I feel", "is it reasonable to get this reaction now" etc. Again, this is my experience. I do think, though, that this is the first step of correcting the train of thoughts you've practiced and preached for so long.
One of my therapists (yes, I've had more than one) said something that made me think. The physical reactions you get during a panick attack or anxiety aren't limited to these moments. It all depends on the situation. Ever been really excited or looking forward to a happening? Then you might be restless of excitement. I know I always am before travelling. I guess anger can produce the same symptoms. Even before every football match there was this feeling that might feel like anxiety, but it was not. Football was an arena I enjoyed and was fairly good at. The restlessness before each match was just impatience, I wanted to get under way. Everything felt fine after the ref blew his whistle.
Still the brain might say that you're in danger as that is what it's all about. The brain has ordered all your senses to peak so you can escape the situation. A panick attack is often short lived from what I've experienced but it is exhausting.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
Hobbies
Ever been so bored that you don't know what to do yet you have plenty of hobbies? I do. Playing video games has always been something I've enjoyed. It was a break from reality. Reality just became more real. I could only play a few minutes before I got so restless that I had to just stop. You might say it's a good thing that I spent less time playing but it was all for the wrong reason. I ended up being anxious of having an anxiety attack.
I picked up the guitar at the age of 14 and it didn't take long before I had the guitar in my lap when watching the TV. That ended as well. The guitar was always in my room in the basement and I didn't want to be alone for a long period of time. The expectations were way too high; I didn't progress, wasn't as good as my friends, felt guilty of having the gear that I had etc. But I managed to pick it up again and I still play. It still isn't good and I don't care.
Finding a hobby hasn't been easy for me. I'm very impatient and I need to see improvement in what I do or else I start to dislike it. I'd rather master it like a pro from the beginning but that never happens. Aside from football and the guitar I've tried photography which is going ok. There is still that doorstep mile to traverse, though. The fear of not doing it well enough is still present.
What I've learned is to keep up with your hobbies even if it's just for a little while. Feel the joy it gave you and be content. Remembering what I said about how easy it is to talk yourself down? Don't do that. Acknowledge that you continued with your hobby, not giving up. That's just the easy fix. Your panick attack disappears very rapidly but returns the next time you're trying. I learned that kind of the hard way. The guitars, for example, weren't used as much as they did and at one point just collecting dust. It's not easy trying to describe anything irrational, because that was what it was: An irrational fear of failing and panick attacks by which I let myself be controlled.
The clue is to occupy yourself with something and it doesn't matter what it is; everything from running to collecting stamps will do. It's to keep your brain from grinding the same self destructive thoughts; thoughts that you barely notice but leave a trace of physical symptoms.
"You are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
I picked up the guitar at the age of 14 and it didn't take long before I had the guitar in my lap when watching the TV. That ended as well. The guitar was always in my room in the basement and I didn't want to be alone for a long period of time. The expectations were way too high; I didn't progress, wasn't as good as my friends, felt guilty of having the gear that I had etc. But I managed to pick it up again and I still play. It still isn't good and I don't care.
Finding a hobby hasn't been easy for me. I'm very impatient and I need to see improvement in what I do or else I start to dislike it. I'd rather master it like a pro from the beginning but that never happens. Aside from football and the guitar I've tried photography which is going ok. There is still that doorstep mile to traverse, though. The fear of not doing it well enough is still present.
What I've learned is to keep up with your hobbies even if it's just for a little while. Feel the joy it gave you and be content. Remembering what I said about how easy it is to talk yourself down? Don't do that. Acknowledge that you continued with your hobby, not giving up. That's just the easy fix. Your panick attack disappears very rapidly but returns the next time you're trying. I learned that kind of the hard way. The guitars, for example, weren't used as much as they did and at one point just collecting dust. It's not easy trying to describe anything irrational, because that was what it was: An irrational fear of failing and panick attacks by which I let myself be controlled.
The clue is to occupy yourself with something and it doesn't matter what it is; everything from running to collecting stamps will do. It's to keep your brain from grinding the same self destructive thoughts; thoughts that you barely notice but leave a trace of physical symptoms.
"You are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
fredag 15. januar 2016
Answering a question
I received a question from a person who has visited this site earlier today. She asked me if I could write a bit more about me and my background. I certainly don't mind. I just hope I can give a proper answer. As a start, I can quote the definition of the disorder, given by my therapist:
"" Anxious [avoidant] personality disorder:Personality disorder characterized by feelings of tension and apprehension, insecurity and inferiority. There is a continuous yearning to be liked and accepted, a hypersensitivity to rejection and criticism with restricted personal attachments, and a tendency to avoid certain activities by habitual exaggeration of the potential dangers or risks in everyday situations."
I was in my senior year at college in the fall of 2005. I worked very hard with my subjects, just as I had done since the first grade. Looking back, I probably pushed myself a bit, because I remember the total number of hours from my classes exceeded the limit. Tests were coming more and more frequent because of that and I was practicing for my driving test on the side. Panick attacks in the morning became frequent and my mind forbade me to attend school. Shaking, crying and heavy breathing came everytime.
Passing the driving test while struggling with anxiety is still one of my greatest achievements yet I still don't know how I managed to do that.
The plan was to try attending school after that Christmas, but it was no use. We, my parents and I, decided that it wasn't any rush after all. I needed to get well again. So I spent countless hours at home with my dad. We often didn't say a word to each other while watching the TV. Still, they were moments I cherish and I wouldn't want to be without them. My panick attacks became less frequent and I could redo the senior year from that fall. That was one of my scariest moments ever. Many of them propably knew who I was already, by looks if not name. Most of them were OK, though, despite whatever rumours that might have been present. Finishing college is another big achievement of mine, and I don't take it for granted.
Social anxiety and depression often go hand in hand. Test results showed that I needed to take medication due to chemical imbalances, which ment I my chances of being depressed were higher than average. I still take medication and I don't know when I'll stop.
Attending a social activity is not easy. My mind starts when an invitation arrives, pondering and wondering. The anxiety acts almost like travel-fever. I need to plan when to go, how to get to the place, having back up plans in case a bus is late or if I need extra time to find the correct place. Doing all this doesn't make me relax. The urge to check and re-check that I've not misread any timetables for the bus. The result of this is always the same: I'm always the first guest, at least 30 minutes before I need to be there. Knowing who might show up is also good. I dislike getting surprised or caught off guard. Many of my friends from the University are quite smart and live interesting lives. Preparing any topic that I might contribute to happens from time to time. It's so easy to feel ashamed when I can't participate in a conversation. I more or less feel stupid.
Being impulsive is not my kind of thing. Planning is vital and I can't just go somewhere. The urge to stay at home doing nothing can sometimes win because I don't want to miss the opportunity of doing one thing or the other. The chance of actually doing anything other than watching tv or reading online is very slim. It's the thought that I miss the chance that I might come up with something, that triggers my anxiety.
When all is said and done, I enjoy being among friends. Rarely have I regretted that I went out. But just the thought of me regretting a social participation in the future is scary enough. I know all these thoughts are quite irrational, yet I can't let go.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
"" Anxious [avoidant] personality disorder:Personality disorder characterized by feelings of tension and apprehension, insecurity and inferiority. There is a continuous yearning to be liked and accepted, a hypersensitivity to rejection and criticism with restricted personal attachments, and a tendency to avoid certain activities by habitual exaggeration of the potential dangers or risks in everyday situations."
I was in my senior year at college in the fall of 2005. I worked very hard with my subjects, just as I had done since the first grade. Looking back, I probably pushed myself a bit, because I remember the total number of hours from my classes exceeded the limit. Tests were coming more and more frequent because of that and I was practicing for my driving test on the side. Panick attacks in the morning became frequent and my mind forbade me to attend school. Shaking, crying and heavy breathing came everytime.
Passing the driving test while struggling with anxiety is still one of my greatest achievements yet I still don't know how I managed to do that.
The plan was to try attending school after that Christmas, but it was no use. We, my parents and I, decided that it wasn't any rush after all. I needed to get well again. So I spent countless hours at home with my dad. We often didn't say a word to each other while watching the TV. Still, they were moments I cherish and I wouldn't want to be without them. My panick attacks became less frequent and I could redo the senior year from that fall. That was one of my scariest moments ever. Many of them propably knew who I was already, by looks if not name. Most of them were OK, though, despite whatever rumours that might have been present. Finishing college is another big achievement of mine, and I don't take it for granted.
Social anxiety and depression often go hand in hand. Test results showed that I needed to take medication due to chemical imbalances, which ment I my chances of being depressed were higher than average. I still take medication and I don't know when I'll stop.
Attending a social activity is not easy. My mind starts when an invitation arrives, pondering and wondering. The anxiety acts almost like travel-fever. I need to plan when to go, how to get to the place, having back up plans in case a bus is late or if I need extra time to find the correct place. Doing all this doesn't make me relax. The urge to check and re-check that I've not misread any timetables for the bus. The result of this is always the same: I'm always the first guest, at least 30 minutes before I need to be there. Knowing who might show up is also good. I dislike getting surprised or caught off guard. Many of my friends from the University are quite smart and live interesting lives. Preparing any topic that I might contribute to happens from time to time. It's so easy to feel ashamed when I can't participate in a conversation. I more or less feel stupid.
Being impulsive is not my kind of thing. Planning is vital and I can't just go somewhere. The urge to stay at home doing nothing can sometimes win because I don't want to miss the opportunity of doing one thing or the other. The chance of actually doing anything other than watching tv or reading online is very slim. It's the thought that I miss the chance that I might come up with something, that triggers my anxiety.
When all is said and done, I enjoy being among friends. Rarely have I regretted that I went out. But just the thought of me regretting a social participation in the future is scary enough. I know all these thoughts are quite irrational, yet I can't let go.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
Performance anxiety
I got a notice from my Facebook account today saying that I published some photos seven years ago on this date. They were a few shots of the dormroom I lived in at the time, pre and post cleaning (with a lot of help from my oldest sister). Go back to the exams right before Christmas 2008. I've always been very stressed when revising for the exams. This was still completely new for me.
I don't have a good answer to why my performance anxiety is so immense. My results haven't always been the best, but I did put a lot of effort into it.
That December 2008 was the worst in a long time. I panicked during an exam: I couldn't sitt still, got dizzy, light-headed, sick etc. I needed to get out of the room and handed in my paper eventhough I knew that I probably had failed. All that mattered was to get to my dorm, close the door and stay in bed. And staying in bed I did. Thankfully I got help with getting a note from my doctor to excuse my abscent from the remaining exams.
I somehow got home for Christmas and that Christmas was dreadfull. All I was thinking was how I'd manage to live in my dorm after the holidays. My dad came to my rescue once again, taking the flight with me and staying with me for the first couple of days. The inital thought when he returned home was "oh s***". Suddenly I didn't know what to do, how to pass the time. My response seems to be to isolate myself, hiding in shame for not being able to do what seems so easy, hiding from friends to avoid any questions. That semester was interesting. Lucky for me I had an awesome roommate who would drag me with her to the supermarket, when it was time for washing clothes, making dinner and much more. That was prizeless.
From what I've been told the performance anxiety is closely linked to my social anxiety. Everytime I'm with friends I really do feel that I need to perform in one way or the other. The pressure of saying something intelligent or thoughtfull is always there, especially with so many smart friends. I rarely have anything to add and therefore I'm just sitting there for the most of the time.
Maybe the fear of failing is bigger than the possibility to win? That might be why I've never done anything more with the guitar. I play by and for myself using a game called Rocksmith. Never have I played on a stage or in a band; afraid to stand out in the spotlight. Maybe that's okay, too. Wondering what might have been isn't productive.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
torsdag 14. januar 2016
Take control
I read an article yesterday about anxiety and depression among girls from the age of 15-19. That'll make them pupils in what you might say is high school and college. Apparently the use of medication for depression in that age group has increased by 57% the last ten years. I'd say that we should be concerned about that, and who is to blame? Or is it anybodys fault at all? The strive of being perfect is ruining us. Are we thinking about ourselves or our surroundings when we don't see our limitations?
It wasn't easy being a teenager 15 years ago and I'm sure it's not any easier today. But I think the goal of being perfect starts much earlier. We live in a society that is competitive and measurable results. Think how even parents talk to their kids: "This drawing is so nice", "You're so good at doing this" etc. School is just one step further. I remember it was sort of a competition to be the smartest even before we started having tests graded.
Grades in school not only tell you how well you've done, but also how much better or worse you've done than your classmates. They're a decisive factor when you must choose a field of studies.
Let's not forget the factors that aren't associated with a formal education. You need to be popular among friends, good at whatever you're doing in your sparetime, look pretty and have the latest gadgets.
I'd say it is enough. The teenage years are hard enough and we don't need any extra weight on our shoulders. We should not need to seek acceptance from someone who don't matter, let alone don't care. Stop and think who you are doing it for, yourself or anybody else. You are the only main character in your life, everybody else is just extras. Take control of your life by saying stop when you need to. Don't let other dictate when you can or can't say no. Perfection is only an illusion, happiness is real. So what will you choose?
Choose yourself what you want to study, if you want to study at all. I think the image of success that is being portrayed today claims that it can only come from higher education. Like that will automatically grant you a good life. But it won't. It's about feeling pride. Pride that you're living, doing something good for yourself and the society. Let the salary come second, or even third.
"You are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
You see? It's time to lower the shoulders, don't care if the dishwasher is full again or your shoes are from the last season.
It wasn't easy being a teenager 15 years ago and I'm sure it's not any easier today. But I think the goal of being perfect starts much earlier. We live in a society that is competitive and measurable results. Think how even parents talk to their kids: "This drawing is so nice", "You're so good at doing this" etc. School is just one step further. I remember it was sort of a competition to be the smartest even before we started having tests graded.
Grades in school not only tell you how well you've done, but also how much better or worse you've done than your classmates. They're a decisive factor when you must choose a field of studies.
Let's not forget the factors that aren't associated with a formal education. You need to be popular among friends, good at whatever you're doing in your sparetime, look pretty and have the latest gadgets.
I'd say it is enough. The teenage years are hard enough and we don't need any extra weight on our shoulders. We should not need to seek acceptance from someone who don't matter, let alone don't care. Stop and think who you are doing it for, yourself or anybody else. You are the only main character in your life, everybody else is just extras. Take control of your life by saying stop when you need to. Don't let other dictate when you can or can't say no. Perfection is only an illusion, happiness is real. So what will you choose?
Choose yourself what you want to study, if you want to study at all. I think the image of success that is being portrayed today claims that it can only come from higher education. Like that will automatically grant you a good life. But it won't. It's about feeling pride. Pride that you're living, doing something good for yourself and the society. Let the salary come second, or even third.
"You are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
You see? It's time to lower the shoulders, don't care if the dishwasher is full again or your shoes are from the last season.
Find your fanclub!
You find fan clubs everywhere: for sports teams, musicians, politicians and many more. Why don't you have a fan club? Life is a roller coaster of a ride. Sometimes its fun and sometimes the times are tough. That's when you need support, someone who believes in you.
I've been lucky enough to have a big fan club even when I didn't realize it. Part of the depression is that its pulling you down, trivializing all the achievements you've done. Even if it feels like getting out of bed is a battle and a half, your brain would say "oh but everybody else does that". Maybe, but you are not everybody else!
Aknowledge every little step you do and appreciate the little things. You might go outside, breathe fresh air, listen to the birds. I know it's tough when you're feeling bad to think back to a similar occasion. Just don't always believe what your brain is telling you!
"You are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
I've been lucky enough to have a big fan club even when I didn't realize it. Part of the depression is that its pulling you down, trivializing all the achievements you've done. Even if it feels like getting out of bed is a battle and a half, your brain would say "oh but everybody else does that". Maybe, but you are not everybody else!
Aknowledge every little step you do and appreciate the little things. You might go outside, breathe fresh air, listen to the birds. I know it's tough when you're feeling bad to think back to a similar occasion. Just don't always believe what your brain is telling you!
"You are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
tirsdag 12. januar 2016
Shy, introvert or avoiding?
I'd like to start by saying that this is not a field of study I have any knowledge about. I'm just writing from my point of view and how I've experienced things. Now, I've always been shy. My childhood consisted pretty much of me being by myself, and that didn't bother me. It wasn't like I didn't have friends but I was totally fine with just doing something alone. You might say that I enjoyed my own company.
Or did I? Even untill this day I'm not sure if I really thought that or I was trying to convince myself to believe I was fine. Playing football was my thing. That was my arena where I learned the social rules and norms and functioned as any other kid. But hanging out after school or meeting someone was difficult. I see in retrospect that my behaviour was very similar to the one I've practiced as a grown up.
My social anxiety kept me at home, keeping me at home and at the same time telling me I was happy. Making up excuses to not go out became my speciality.
Fast forward to when I started at University. I was stepping into the adult world and couldn't hide anymore. I chose to move in to a sort of a dorm, not knowing what to expect. But as it turned out it was the best years of my life. Living with strangers was challenging and fun at the same time.
It wasn't untill I past 20 that I was formally diagnosed by the therapist I had to help me. The diagnose had a code that was put on my bill and I looked up what it meant. This is what I found out:
" Anxious [avoidant] personality disorder:Personality disorder characterized by feelings of tension and apprehension, insecurity and inferiority. There is a continuous yearning to be liked and accepted, a hypersensitivity to rejection and criticism with restricted personal attachments, and a tendency to avoid certain activities by habitual exaggeration of the potential dangers or risks in everyday situations."
This was a complete revelation to me. First of all that I'm not the only one with this kind of behaviour. But also how specific it is and it describes me to the dot. The internal struggle between me and the disease is still happening every day, on every desicion. Maybe I'll come back to it in a more in depth post.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
Or did I? Even untill this day I'm not sure if I really thought that or I was trying to convince myself to believe I was fine. Playing football was my thing. That was my arena where I learned the social rules and norms and functioned as any other kid. But hanging out after school or meeting someone was difficult. I see in retrospect that my behaviour was very similar to the one I've practiced as a grown up.
My social anxiety kept me at home, keeping me at home and at the same time telling me I was happy. Making up excuses to not go out became my speciality.
Fast forward to when I started at University. I was stepping into the adult world and couldn't hide anymore. I chose to move in to a sort of a dorm, not knowing what to expect. But as it turned out it was the best years of my life. Living with strangers was challenging and fun at the same time.
It wasn't untill I past 20 that I was formally diagnosed by the therapist I had to help me. The diagnose had a code that was put on my bill and I looked up what it meant. This is what I found out:
" Anxious [avoidant] personality disorder:Personality disorder characterized by feelings of tension and apprehension, insecurity and inferiority. There is a continuous yearning to be liked and accepted, a hypersensitivity to rejection and criticism with restricted personal attachments, and a tendency to avoid certain activities by habitual exaggeration of the potential dangers or risks in everyday situations."
This was a complete revelation to me. First of all that I'm not the only one with this kind of behaviour. But also how specific it is and it describes me to the dot. The internal struggle between me and the disease is still happening every day, on every desicion. Maybe I'll come back to it in a more in depth post.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
Dad and I, part one
Just as in the previous post, social dynamics within the family will always change when someone is struggling. It's not just you or me, but it's completely new for the household; how to behave, how to talk, what to expect etc. I'm sure your siblings and parents are scared too. I remember I was quite scared regarding how my parents would behave as think or at least hope that they didn't have too much trouble with me. My previous years were uneventfull. I did good in school and no trouble at all, so even when they loved me, I would still say the relationship was a bit platonic. I don't think we talked about subjects that had a deeper meaning.
My dad and I have a strange relationship. I think he's always had it difficult to engage himself in to what I do. I've always gone to mom when something needed to be fixed, like homework. But my passion for football and music have always been a common thing for us. Even during when he struggled really hard with his own health. he was always there when I needed. He drove me to all the footballmatches I played eventhough he didn't have to. I could just join someone on the team. But he genuinely wanted to watch me play no matter how bad I and the team played. Maybe it distracted him a bit. And he always picked me up from school when the weather was bad.
My dad, he seems at first like a bit old school, not knowing how to cope with anything that didn't affect him directly. So when I got ill right before my 18th birthday I didn't know how or if anything would change. But it did, to the better.
He had the opportunity to stay at home with me when it was really bad. Initially I couldn't go out of the house. Something must've awakened him, an instinct maybe. He got me out of the house. After a few steps I had to turn back and we walked inside. Next day he encouraged him down the driveway and so on. Step by step.
One thing with the two of us is that we don't talk much. We don't have to talk to enjoy each other's company. I still remember the film we randomly found on the TV the first day I was at home. "Chain Gang" from 1950, it was. And we watched a lot of Discovery Channel, a lot of it!
Think I'll cut it here so it doesn't get too long. I hope I am able to do him justice through this. Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
My dad and I have a strange relationship. I think he's always had it difficult to engage himself in to what I do. I've always gone to mom when something needed to be fixed, like homework. But my passion for football and music have always been a common thing for us. Even during when he struggled really hard with his own health. he was always there when I needed. He drove me to all the footballmatches I played eventhough he didn't have to. I could just join someone on the team. But he genuinely wanted to watch me play no matter how bad I and the team played. Maybe it distracted him a bit. And he always picked me up from school when the weather was bad.
My dad, he seems at first like a bit old school, not knowing how to cope with anything that didn't affect him directly. So when I got ill right before my 18th birthday I didn't know how or if anything would change. But it did, to the better.
He had the opportunity to stay at home with me when it was really bad. Initially I couldn't go out of the house. Something must've awakened him, an instinct maybe. He got me out of the house. After a few steps I had to turn back and we walked inside. Next day he encouraged him down the driveway and so on. Step by step.
One thing with the two of us is that we don't talk much. We don't have to talk to enjoy each other's company. I still remember the film we randomly found on the TV the first day I was at home. "Chain Gang" from 1950, it was. And we watched a lot of Discovery Channel, a lot of it!
Think I'll cut it here so it doesn't get too long. I hope I am able to do him justice through this. Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
mandag 11. januar 2016
Relationships with other people
Relationships and friendships are strange in their own way. You decide based on different criterias that you like a person and do social things with them. From time to time you entrust them with personal thoughts and private issues. One might think that the status as a friend is sort of static and they'll be your friend forever. That's unfortunately not how things turn out.
Struggling with a mental issue is scary for the friends of the one who is ill. Times like these reveal which friendship is purely platonic and which has a deeper meaning to the individuals. My most difficult time was ten years ago, the last year of college. It got to the point that I didn't manage to go to school, or even leave the house for that matter. I had to redo the whole year but that's a different story. Losing friends became reality. Or that might be a bit harsh. Maybe "faded away" describes it better. You end up on one side of the fence with your friends on the other side; I was too embarrased by struggling with whatever it was (it was still so new to me that I wasn't able to describe it) to actually contact my friends and they were probably insecure on how to approach me as well.
In hindsight having me to redo the last year of college might've been a blessing in disguise. I have no idea what I would be doing now, where I'd live etc. Plus I've met so many great people at the University who began studying the same year as I did.
We're all a product of our past. Choices have consequences, either good or bad, and it's not always easy to determine in the longrun what is good and what is bad.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
Struggling with a mental issue is scary for the friends of the one who is ill. Times like these reveal which friendship is purely platonic and which has a deeper meaning to the individuals. My most difficult time was ten years ago, the last year of college. It got to the point that I didn't manage to go to school, or even leave the house for that matter. I had to redo the whole year but that's a different story. Losing friends became reality. Or that might be a bit harsh. Maybe "faded away" describes it better. You end up on one side of the fence with your friends on the other side; I was too embarrased by struggling with whatever it was (it was still so new to me that I wasn't able to describe it) to actually contact my friends and they were probably insecure on how to approach me as well.
In hindsight having me to redo the last year of college might've been a blessing in disguise. I have no idea what I would be doing now, where I'd live etc. Plus I've met so many great people at the University who began studying the same year as I did.
We're all a product of our past. Choices have consequences, either good or bad, and it's not always easy to determine in the longrun what is good and what is bad.
Please remember that ""[y]ou are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
søndag 10. januar 2016
Truth of a Secret
Let me just say welcome, or goodbye for that matter if you're heading out. My name is Christian and I've recently been inspired to write snippets of text from and about my life. How would this be interesting, you might ask. Well, if someone who happens to know me are reading this, they already know parts of my story. My mental illness and having to cope with that have been n most of my life, one way or the other. What I hope to achieve is to make it less taboo to have psychological problems or to just be able to talk about it in a proper way. It'll be totally worth it if I can ease the mind of just one person, who feels alone and scared.
So, what is the truth? Does a single truth exist, or do we have to relate to our own truths in life? How can we be honest with ourselves?
As a few teasers, I'll be touching subjects such as performance anxiety, guilt, relationships with friends/family, loneliness etc. This is coming to fruition as I am writing as I don't have a sketch or thought through if I want to write thematically or chronologically. To recap, I've wanted to do something, something that can benefit other.
It'll be interesting to see if anyone actually reads this but I'll be tweeting each and hopefully hit the nail on the head with the hashtags. I'll end this with a quote from the singer/actress Sierra Bogges:
"You are enough. You are so enough, it's unbelievable how enough you are. "
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