Yes, today there's a kind of anniversary that I celebrate. Two years ago, on this day, someone - or something - died, and I changed. It's difficult for me to explain exactly what happened, and what I did, but the result was that a very vital part of who I was died. The person that I used to be, and everything that made me that person, died on this day two years ago.
The next couple of months, I walked around on autopilot. On the outside I acted as if nothing had happened, but on the inside I was dead. Empty. Just a hollow body with nothing - not even a soul - inside. I celebrated x-mas with great acting skills, but felt absolutely nothing. No joy, no sadness, no pain. Nothing. Because the me that I thought I was, had died. She was gone. And I just knew that she would never come back.
And then, I woke up.
What I've come to realize these past years is that I was never really me. I spent just about my entire life being someone else. Different identities for different periods of my life, but never the real me. And I struggled. I struggled so much with myself, and with trying to grasp who I was, and I never really managed to find proper happiness. I tried removing those "false" identities I've had - the masks I've been hiding behind - but every time I did, a new one appeared to take its place.
The last identity I had was the one I thought was the real me. I really did. I gambled pretty much everything on her, and a tiny part of me did feel like there was something about her that was kind of right. And yet, I kept fighting myself, never really understanding. I even tried to kill myself one night, cause the depression and the anxiety and the frustration became too much, and it could've ended pretty bad right there and then. Luckily, I am pretty well protected, so it didn't. But that's when things started to change. Or, at least a tiny bit. Strangely enough, it was an older identity of mine that suddenly awoke inside me and brought me back to reality. Saved my life, she did.
But after so much struggle, I finally reached the end of that road, on this day two years ago, and made a choice. It was a heavy choice, and I'll never forget it, and for over two months after that I suffered pretty heavily under it. The identity I had there and then, she died. And because I killed her, and everything that made these identities take hold of my life, I could finally have the time I needed to awake properly.
I know, I use a lot of strange words to describe this all, and I'm sure you're all confused by what I really mean, but trust me when I say that it's the only way I can describe it for it to make sense inside my own mind. And it does. Makes sense, I mean. Because when I woke up, I found out who I really was.
No more false identities, no more uncertainty, and no more struggle. The real me had been asleep all these years, just waiting for the right time to come back to life, and when I did I found peace. Peace within myself - within my mind, and within my soul. And nothing can ever take that away.
So, yes, today's a celebration for me.
It's a celebration all about death. The anniversary of when my last false identity left me, and died. And it was that death that woke me up. She didn't bring much good to my life, that identity, but her death, at least, brought me myself. And for that, this day will always be an important day that I'll celebrate within my own heart.
So, happy anniversary! And rest in peace...
mandag 11. november 2013
fredag 8. november 2013
New blog - for the Norwegians!
Yeah, that's right, I've made a new blog. Again. For the nth time. Haha! I tend to start a lot of things, new things, cause I like new things. It's shiny. And I like shiny. I'm the kind of person that instead of fixing things, I make new things. The drawing needs fixing? Throw it away and start a new one. This thingamajingy is broken? Throw it away and get a new one.
I like new things. I like beginnings. And I like the concept of burning something, and creating something new from its ashes. It's just a part of who I am.
As for this new blog, however, it's a Norwegian one. This is still my number one main blog that I'll keep on using and abusing, but the new blog will be written only in Norwegian for the sake of my Norwegian followers that aren't too fond of reading English. It's as simple as that. So, I'll have two blogs to maintain from now on.
If you're Norwegian, or know how to read Norwegian, feel free to check in on my new scribbly place~ as-wargmo.blogspot.no
It will be updated daily, with all sorts of daily ramblings, but it will NOT be linked on Facebook like this blog is. If you want to stay updated on the new blog, you have to check it yourself. Haha!
On the subject of the new blog, I made a blog entry yesterday that got quite a bit of attention, and it blew my mind. It was an entry explaining why and how I'm sick, because I'm tired of people not believing me when I tell them that I am, and I decided to link it publicly on Facebook to share it with people. It only took minutes before the feedback started ticking in.
Now, this blog right here, when I get a lot of pageviews, it's usually around 30 or so. Whenever I publish an entry here, I link it on FB, and I get quite a lot of people checking it out. On average, in a day, I usually get around 20 pageviews, which is, to me, absolutely amazing! And it makes me really glad. So when it go passed 30 pageviews, my mind is blown.
Within a couple of hours, that specific blog entry got over 200 pageviews.
I was speechless. In awe. And almost crying, cause the feedback I got from people on FB after linking it was just amazing. So many warm and kind words, and people thanking me for sharing this. I can't even describe the feeling it gave me! I think I was in shock the rest of the day. And this morning, I decided to check the final result to see how many pageviews I got all in all yesterday.
643 pageviews.
Holy fucking shit. That was my actual reaction when I saw the number. I don't know what else to say. When I'm used to around 30 pageviews on a good day, getting over 600 is just mindblowing. And people keep sending me messages and hugs and commenting on the link, telling me how amazing that entry was, and I really don't know how to respond. I really am speechless! And, omg, I'm so grateful. So incredibly grateful!
So, thank you, everyone, for your amazing feedback and warm words.
You make my world fantastic!
And, for you awesome people out there that can't read Norwegian, I've taken the time to translate the entry into English for you, so you get to read it as well. Enjoy~
There is something I've wanted to bring up for a while now, so now I am finally doing so.
Most people know that I am on a special pension for the disabled. It's not exactly a secret. I've accepted it, and I see no reason to whine about it. But, I'll be honest and say that some of the reactions people give me about the matter can sometimes be uncomfortable. It's mainly that "Okay? How come?" I hear, along with a sceptical look that tells me that they're really thinking that I'm a lazy son of a bitch that use stupid excuses to sit on my ass and do nothing all day. You can't see it on me that I'm sick, so why should anyone believe that I am.
I've gotten good at not taking it personally, cause they really don't know any better, but it still stings when they give me that look. It doesn't exactly help my self esteem, especially when I know that people talk behind my back about it.
Yeah, how come I'm really on this pension? What do I mean when I say that I'm sick?
Most people know that I've had huge problems with anxiety and depression most of my life. But for those who haven't experienced something like that, it's really hard to understand how it really affects your life. It's easy to say that you just have to pull yourself together, but I can guarantee you that it's anything but simple.
Have you ever woken up really suddenly from sleep, either by a nightmare of that something suddenly wakes you right after you fell asleep, and your heart is racing at a 100 miles per hour so you can barely breathe, and your chest just hurts? You're not really scared, and yet your entire body hurts from this physical fear that you just can't describe. If you can imagine that feeling, and that you suddenly get it, for no real reason, while you're putting on your coat and getting ready to leave your own home, then yes, you can imagine anxiety. It's that physical fear where your heart beats way too fast, your chest hurts, and you can hardly breathe, and beacuse it comes so suddenly and without any real reason it scares the crap outta you. You learn to fear that feeling more than anything else, and anything that can trigger that feeling becomes things you avoid like the plague. You're constantly walking around, praying that you won't have to feel like that, and eventually you end up locking yourself up in your own home in hopes of being spared from it.
Being depressed is not about going around and being sad all the time, as many might think. It's more a feeling of emptiness. As if nothing matters. As if YOU don't matter. You're tired, down, and you feel just empty and insignificant. Why should you bother to do anything? Is there any point to getting out of bed? Is there any point to eating anything? Is there a point to being alive at all? Nothing matters anyway. You want to cry, but there are no tears, cause you're all empty on the inside. All you really want to do is lay down and wait for death to come take you away from yourself.
Yes, those are two very extreme ways of describing anxiety and depression, but that's how I've experienced it. Most of my life, I've felt just like that, on a daily basis. I've tried to kill myself three times, that I can remember, and thousands of times I've been on my way to try, but chickened out at the last moment. Mostly I've just been lying there, crying while praying, over and over, that someone or something would come kill me so I didn't have to live anymore.
But anxiety and depression is just a small part of what I've had to struggle with when it comes to mental illnesses. My life has been a constant battle against myself and my own head, and it was a battle I lost way too often. The worst part was the psychosis. They're something I wouldn't even let my worst enemy suffer under.
Sitting in a corner of your own home, hysterical from anxiety after screaming and crying for hours, and seeing the shadows move, and hands coming out of the wall to take you... The worst part is when there's a small part of your brain in the back of your head that tells you that what you're seeing is impossible. Those things crawling towards you on the floor aren't real, so you're not supposed to be able to see them. So why are they there? Why are you seeing those creatures? Why are you hearing those voices whispering things to you? Why do you believe that if you move away from your corner, something will come and tear you apart? It's not possible, so why do you believe it?
Psychosis, yes. Not so pleasant.
I deal very badly with stress. I get easily stressed, which can quickly make me feel uneasy, and that uneasy feeling can easily develop into a feeling of anxiety, and from there I can break down and become hysterical, and the psychosis can come out. And like that I've lived. For a long time. Way too long.
Every time I've had a job, or been in school, I've gotten stressed over nothing. It's idiotic, I know, but that's how it is. And from there it's easy to move over to a state of mind that really isn't good, neither for me nor anyone around me. I've hurt people, both physically and mentally, when I've had really bad psychotic episodes.
That's why I was put on a pension for disabled people.
Everyone meant that it was best if I didn't work among other people.
Both for my sake, and for others'.
That's my truth.
So, these past years things have changed. I've worked hard - harder than anyone knows - and I've done things that people will never know about, and I've gotten better. I fought my depression almost 3 years ago, and was declared cured of it. It was actually pretty easy to fight. The next year after that I fought the anxiety with all that I had, and it was anything but easy. But I did it, after a lot of struggle, and despite that my life took an unexpected and unpleasant turn in the middle of it all. It was a tough fight, but I managed to fight what it was that caused the psychosis, and I was eventually declared as well as I could possibly get, mentally speaking. Of course, I have personality disorders that are still there, that I can never get rid of, and they can get bad and make me sick again, but I've got control over them now. I control THEM, and not the other way around. So, I'm okay.
Last summer, after having been mentally well for a while, I finally managed to relax. After living in fear and been tense for over 20 years, I finally let go, and my body got some time off. And it was then that it felt exactly how tired it really was.
After so many years with a bad mental health, I managed to destroy my body without even being aware of it. It was exhausted, in every possible way, and I was bedridden for two weeks with intense pain all over. Inflammation in the entire body, according to the doctor. I got better after a while, and could move again, but the pain never really went away. I went a whole year like that, with pain all over, and with no clue as to what was causing that pain.
Thursday the 3rd of October this year I got the diagnose Fibromyalgia, along with the message that I was so burned out that I could end up developing ME as well if I didn't take it easy. My body is just completely broken.
It's a bit unfair.
I've fought for so many years to get out of the hell that I lived in inside my own head, and when I finally manage to get out my body is destroyed. All my plans of getting back to work again now that I was mentally well just fell apart. And all I can think is just "Why?"
Have you ever had a really bad toothache of the worst kind? Or, if you're a girl, had really crappy menstrual cramps? That's the kind of pain I feel when my entire body hurts, and I'm never really sure if it's the skeleton or the muscles that hurts. The pain is just intense, and mostly concentrated in my legs and my arms, and absolutely nothing helps in making the pain go away. But the worst part is the energy. I may be a lazy person that likes simple and easy solutions to things, but I've always been an active and lazy person. I walked everywhere, whether I was going to town or to the doctor, and was often active. Now I can barely get out of bed cause I'm so tired and exhausted. I simply don't have any energy at all.
Fibromyagia can't be cured, but it can be treated and made better, so you can live with it. It will take time, so I just have to be patient. And people around me have to have patience with me.
I am on a pension for the disabled because I am sick. You may not see it on me, but I'm hanging together by a thread, both physically and mentally. When I say I can't do as much as other people can, and that I'd rather take it easy, then it's a bloody good reason for it. I'm alive, and that's a friggin miracle, to be honest. 90% of my life I've wished with all my being that I wasn't alive. I should've been dead a long time ago.
Think about that, the next time you shake your head while I'm struggling my way up or down some stairs, and whining about how tired I am. Think about the fact that I should've been dead. I shouldn't have been a part of your life.
And then appreciate your life and what you have. It could have been worse.
I like new things. I like beginnings. And I like the concept of burning something, and creating something new from its ashes. It's just a part of who I am.
As for this new blog, however, it's a Norwegian one. This is still my number one main blog that I'll keep on using and abusing, but the new blog will be written only in Norwegian for the sake of my Norwegian followers that aren't too fond of reading English. It's as simple as that. So, I'll have two blogs to maintain from now on.
If you're Norwegian, or know how to read Norwegian, feel free to check in on my new scribbly place~ as-wargmo.blogspot.no
It will be updated daily, with all sorts of daily ramblings, but it will NOT be linked on Facebook like this blog is. If you want to stay updated on the new blog, you have to check it yourself. Haha!
On the subject of the new blog, I made a blog entry yesterday that got quite a bit of attention, and it blew my mind. It was an entry explaining why and how I'm sick, because I'm tired of people not believing me when I tell them that I am, and I decided to link it publicly on Facebook to share it with people. It only took minutes before the feedback started ticking in.
Now, this blog right here, when I get a lot of pageviews, it's usually around 30 or so. Whenever I publish an entry here, I link it on FB, and I get quite a lot of people checking it out. On average, in a day, I usually get around 20 pageviews, which is, to me, absolutely amazing! And it makes me really glad. So when it go passed 30 pageviews, my mind is blown.
Within a couple of hours, that specific blog entry got over 200 pageviews.
I was speechless. In awe. And almost crying, cause the feedback I got from people on FB after linking it was just amazing. So many warm and kind words, and people thanking me for sharing this. I can't even describe the feeling it gave me! I think I was in shock the rest of the day. And this morning, I decided to check the final result to see how many pageviews I got all in all yesterday.
643 pageviews.
Holy fucking shit. That was my actual reaction when I saw the number. I don't know what else to say. When I'm used to around 30 pageviews on a good day, getting over 600 is just mindblowing. And people keep sending me messages and hugs and commenting on the link, telling me how amazing that entry was, and I really don't know how to respond. I really am speechless! And, omg, I'm so grateful. So incredibly grateful!
So, thank you, everyone, for your amazing feedback and warm words.
You make my world fantastic!
And, for you awesome people out there that can't read Norwegian, I've taken the time to translate the entry into English for you, so you get to read it as well. Enjoy~
"Disabled"
There is something I've wanted to bring up for a while now, so now I am finally doing so.
Most people know that I am on a special pension for the disabled. It's not exactly a secret. I've accepted it, and I see no reason to whine about it. But, I'll be honest and say that some of the reactions people give me about the matter can sometimes be uncomfortable. It's mainly that "Okay? How come?" I hear, along with a sceptical look that tells me that they're really thinking that I'm a lazy son of a bitch that use stupid excuses to sit on my ass and do nothing all day. You can't see it on me that I'm sick, so why should anyone believe that I am.
I've gotten good at not taking it personally, cause they really don't know any better, but it still stings when they give me that look. It doesn't exactly help my self esteem, especially when I know that people talk behind my back about it.
Yeah, how come I'm really on this pension? What do I mean when I say that I'm sick?
Most people know that I've had huge problems with anxiety and depression most of my life. But for those who haven't experienced something like that, it's really hard to understand how it really affects your life. It's easy to say that you just have to pull yourself together, but I can guarantee you that it's anything but simple.
Have you ever woken up really suddenly from sleep, either by a nightmare of that something suddenly wakes you right after you fell asleep, and your heart is racing at a 100 miles per hour so you can barely breathe, and your chest just hurts? You're not really scared, and yet your entire body hurts from this physical fear that you just can't describe. If you can imagine that feeling, and that you suddenly get it, for no real reason, while you're putting on your coat and getting ready to leave your own home, then yes, you can imagine anxiety. It's that physical fear where your heart beats way too fast, your chest hurts, and you can hardly breathe, and beacuse it comes so suddenly and without any real reason it scares the crap outta you. You learn to fear that feeling more than anything else, and anything that can trigger that feeling becomes things you avoid like the plague. You're constantly walking around, praying that you won't have to feel like that, and eventually you end up locking yourself up in your own home in hopes of being spared from it.
Being depressed is not about going around and being sad all the time, as many might think. It's more a feeling of emptiness. As if nothing matters. As if YOU don't matter. You're tired, down, and you feel just empty and insignificant. Why should you bother to do anything? Is there any point to getting out of bed? Is there any point to eating anything? Is there a point to being alive at all? Nothing matters anyway. You want to cry, but there are no tears, cause you're all empty on the inside. All you really want to do is lay down and wait for death to come take you away from yourself.
Yes, those are two very extreme ways of describing anxiety and depression, but that's how I've experienced it. Most of my life, I've felt just like that, on a daily basis. I've tried to kill myself three times, that I can remember, and thousands of times I've been on my way to try, but chickened out at the last moment. Mostly I've just been lying there, crying while praying, over and over, that someone or something would come kill me so I didn't have to live anymore.
But anxiety and depression is just a small part of what I've had to struggle with when it comes to mental illnesses. My life has been a constant battle against myself and my own head, and it was a battle I lost way too often. The worst part was the psychosis. They're something I wouldn't even let my worst enemy suffer under.
Sitting in a corner of your own home, hysterical from anxiety after screaming and crying for hours, and seeing the shadows move, and hands coming out of the wall to take you... The worst part is when there's a small part of your brain in the back of your head that tells you that what you're seeing is impossible. Those things crawling towards you on the floor aren't real, so you're not supposed to be able to see them. So why are they there? Why are you seeing those creatures? Why are you hearing those voices whispering things to you? Why do you believe that if you move away from your corner, something will come and tear you apart? It's not possible, so why do you believe it?
Psychosis, yes. Not so pleasant.
I deal very badly with stress. I get easily stressed, which can quickly make me feel uneasy, and that uneasy feeling can easily develop into a feeling of anxiety, and from there I can break down and become hysterical, and the psychosis can come out. And like that I've lived. For a long time. Way too long.
Every time I've had a job, or been in school, I've gotten stressed over nothing. It's idiotic, I know, but that's how it is. And from there it's easy to move over to a state of mind that really isn't good, neither for me nor anyone around me. I've hurt people, both physically and mentally, when I've had really bad psychotic episodes.
That's why I was put on a pension for disabled people.
Everyone meant that it was best if I didn't work among other people.
Both for my sake, and for others'.
That's my truth.
So, these past years things have changed. I've worked hard - harder than anyone knows - and I've done things that people will never know about, and I've gotten better. I fought my depression almost 3 years ago, and was declared cured of it. It was actually pretty easy to fight. The next year after that I fought the anxiety with all that I had, and it was anything but easy. But I did it, after a lot of struggle, and despite that my life took an unexpected and unpleasant turn in the middle of it all. It was a tough fight, but I managed to fight what it was that caused the psychosis, and I was eventually declared as well as I could possibly get, mentally speaking. Of course, I have personality disorders that are still there, that I can never get rid of, and they can get bad and make me sick again, but I've got control over them now. I control THEM, and not the other way around. So, I'm okay.
Last summer, after having been mentally well for a while, I finally managed to relax. After living in fear and been tense for over 20 years, I finally let go, and my body got some time off. And it was then that it felt exactly how tired it really was.
After so many years with a bad mental health, I managed to destroy my body without even being aware of it. It was exhausted, in every possible way, and I was bedridden for two weeks with intense pain all over. Inflammation in the entire body, according to the doctor. I got better after a while, and could move again, but the pain never really went away. I went a whole year like that, with pain all over, and with no clue as to what was causing that pain.
Thursday the 3rd of October this year I got the diagnose Fibromyalgia, along with the message that I was so burned out that I could end up developing ME as well if I didn't take it easy. My body is just completely broken.
It's a bit unfair.
I've fought for so many years to get out of the hell that I lived in inside my own head, and when I finally manage to get out my body is destroyed. All my plans of getting back to work again now that I was mentally well just fell apart. And all I can think is just "Why?"
Have you ever had a really bad toothache of the worst kind? Or, if you're a girl, had really crappy menstrual cramps? That's the kind of pain I feel when my entire body hurts, and I'm never really sure if it's the skeleton or the muscles that hurts. The pain is just intense, and mostly concentrated in my legs and my arms, and absolutely nothing helps in making the pain go away. But the worst part is the energy. I may be a lazy person that likes simple and easy solutions to things, but I've always been an active and lazy person. I walked everywhere, whether I was going to town or to the doctor, and was often active. Now I can barely get out of bed cause I'm so tired and exhausted. I simply don't have any energy at all.
Fibromyagia can't be cured, but it can be treated and made better, so you can live with it. It will take time, so I just have to be patient. And people around me have to have patience with me.
I am on a pension for the disabled because I am sick. You may not see it on me, but I'm hanging together by a thread, both physically and mentally. When I say I can't do as much as other people can, and that I'd rather take it easy, then it's a bloody good reason for it. I'm alive, and that's a friggin miracle, to be honest. 90% of my life I've wished with all my being that I wasn't alive. I should've been dead a long time ago.
Think about that, the next time you shake your head while I'm struggling my way up or down some stairs, and whining about how tired I am. Think about the fact that I should've been dead. I shouldn't have been a part of your life.
And then appreciate your life and what you have. It could have been worse.
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