Trigger Warnings: mental illness, phobia
This post will revolve around the coping mechanisms I use.
The hardest thing to deal with right now is my social anxiety, because how do you explain to people that, even though you need social interaction, being around people scares the will to live out of you? How do you explain the fear to people who have never felt bone chilling terror? I've tried for years to explain myself to people around me, down playing my fears so I wouldn't seem silly or clingy or like a whining brat. My frustration grew exponentially with each attempt and finally, I just gave up, thinking that I was too wrong, too broken, to understand.
Then I figured that instead of seeking the help and understanding from people who have no way of knowing what goes on in my mind, I would try to find ways to cope with the emotions and insecurities on my own. It was an exceptionally bad idea. Failing to explain my fears to others was nothing compared to failing to cope on my own, again and again and again. Nothing I can remember hurt as badly as failing myself over and over.
So, I set out to find a middle way, and I found writing and photography. I can explain my insecurities through the written word and I can show people how I see the world through my photos. Because the world is a beautiful place, filled with life and dreams and emotions, all beyond the single observation of one solo human.
Then I tumbled upon the Coping Box, which I find to be a brilliant thing. Something you create for yourself in order to stay grounded when the tidal wave of frustration, fear, feelings, and self-doubt is threatening to drown you.
My coping box holds
- My raccoon plushie I got when I was 6 months old
- The blanket Jackson's grandmother made for me
- A CD of classical music
- A packet of frankincense incense sticks
- Photos of things I like
Mostly I just snuggle up with the blanket and the plushie when the world just gets to be too much to handle.
When I am at the work rehab place, I have compiled a list of music I find relaxing and I'm blasting music into my head. That way I can live in my little bubble, pretending I am alone until I am ready to talk to other people.
Because I am still so afraid, so conscious of others' judgement, that I can barely function in large groups. My depression is threatening to overwhelm me on a regular basis, and it's only through strength of will that I get out of bed and to this work place, fully aware that my hands will shake uncontrollably, my chest will feel tight, and the back of my neck is freezing cold. Every day, when I get home, I celebrate being strong enough to get through the hours I spend in work rehab. Because celebrating your own victories is the best coping mechanism of them all.
All that matters is yourself, so celebrate every victory, no matter how insignificant it might seem.
onsdag 28 augusti 2013
tisdag 27 augusti 2013
TW: Mixing a meltdown
Trigger warnings apply for: Mental illness
I don't know how many of you follow me on a regular basis, but I'm sending out this warning anyway. The coming posts will not be happy. They might contain loads of triggering issues and subjects. Since I seem to have been gaining followers, I wanted to share my experiences with others, and right now, my life pretty much revolves around getting a handle on social phobia and stress induced depression.
If you or anyone you know need someone to talk to, The Trevor Project has a long list of emergency numbers you can call for free. Please, don't hide, and don't fight alone. There are people who want to help you.
OK, here we go.
When I get stressed out, I hear Kermit the Frog performing Benny Hill in my head. I have mentioned this before, I'm sure. The real problems start when Kermit does a face plant and won't get up. That's when my mind is going into overload and the meltdown starts.
Friday two weeks ago I had my first panic attack in five years. Going out for dinner with my mom, my sister, sister's girlfriend, and Boy, I thought I was safe. I thought I could handle it. I have been doing better, slowly but surely, over the last 3 months, and I thought I was going to be fine. Sitting there at the table, my body had a different take on it. I felt feverish and broke out in a cold sweat. I couldn't breathe and eventually I fled. Boy caught up with me outside the mall and as soon as his arms were around my shoulders, I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. I have no idea how long we stood there. All I knew was the monsoon of emotions and impressions assaulting my mind, the sounds drilling into my ears and the scent of Boy's soap and the fabric softener we use.
My second panic attack was last Tuesday. I have no idea what triggered it that time. I suddenly just felt so scared, like a cornered animal. I wanted to lash out, to hurt someone, to scream and fight. I am so fortunate that my boss at the new work rehab place is so understanding and open minded. She showed Boy and me a room where I could calm down. Again, I don't know how long it took. All I remember is Boy's scent, then moving from one room to the other. Then we were letting a fly out and I had mascara streaks running down my face.
This past weekend, I was in Stockholm with my sister, sister's girlfriend and sister's friend. I had a wonderful time, and they didn't object even once when I pointed out that I needed space or wanted to do something. Again, I thought I was fine, but it seems that having two panic attacks, then spending three days in large crowds, away from home, away from the security of my own lair, has taken its toll. I jump at every sound. I am easily distracted and I can't seem to focus. I am restless and fidgety and Kermit is fighting to get up from the ground. I just want to go to bed and sleep and sleep and sleep.
I have my Coping Box and my little tricks. Letting go of the guilt is the hardest part, because how can I be of help if I can't even take care of myself? My hope is that this time, I won't fall as far and land as hard as I did last time, but right now, my mind is just a storm and I want my calm mountain lake back.
I don't know how many of you follow me on a regular basis, but I'm sending out this warning anyway. The coming posts will not be happy. They might contain loads of triggering issues and subjects. Since I seem to have been gaining followers, I wanted to share my experiences with others, and right now, my life pretty much revolves around getting a handle on social phobia and stress induced depression.
If you or anyone you know need someone to talk to, The Trevor Project has a long list of emergency numbers you can call for free. Please, don't hide, and don't fight alone. There are people who want to help you.
OK, here we go.
When I get stressed out, I hear Kermit the Frog performing Benny Hill in my head. I have mentioned this before, I'm sure. The real problems start when Kermit does a face plant and won't get up. That's when my mind is going into overload and the meltdown starts.
Friday two weeks ago I had my first panic attack in five years. Going out for dinner with my mom, my sister, sister's girlfriend, and Boy, I thought I was safe. I thought I could handle it. I have been doing better, slowly but surely, over the last 3 months, and I thought I was going to be fine. Sitting there at the table, my body had a different take on it. I felt feverish and broke out in a cold sweat. I couldn't breathe and eventually I fled. Boy caught up with me outside the mall and as soon as his arms were around my shoulders, I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. I have no idea how long we stood there. All I knew was the monsoon of emotions and impressions assaulting my mind, the sounds drilling into my ears and the scent of Boy's soap and the fabric softener we use.
My second panic attack was last Tuesday. I have no idea what triggered it that time. I suddenly just felt so scared, like a cornered animal. I wanted to lash out, to hurt someone, to scream and fight. I am so fortunate that my boss at the new work rehab place is so understanding and open minded. She showed Boy and me a room where I could calm down. Again, I don't know how long it took. All I remember is Boy's scent, then moving from one room to the other. Then we were letting a fly out and I had mascara streaks running down my face.
This past weekend, I was in Stockholm with my sister, sister's girlfriend and sister's friend. I had a wonderful time, and they didn't object even once when I pointed out that I needed space or wanted to do something. Again, I thought I was fine, but it seems that having two panic attacks, then spending three days in large crowds, away from home, away from the security of my own lair, has taken its toll. I jump at every sound. I am easily distracted and I can't seem to focus. I am restless and fidgety and Kermit is fighting to get up from the ground. I just want to go to bed and sleep and sleep and sleep.
I have my Coping Box and my little tricks. Letting go of the guilt is the hardest part, because how can I be of help if I can't even take care of myself? My hope is that this time, I won't fall as far and land as hard as I did last time, but right now, my mind is just a storm and I want my calm mountain lake back.
måndag 26 augusti 2013
Zero, the rednosed reindeer*
During the school year of 2003/04, I was living in Las Vegas, Nevada. To say that it was a life-altering experience would be too mild, and I will come back to experienced I gained during those nine months more than once during my posting to this blog, rest assured.
I met one of my best friends during this year and we came up with loads of more or less sane things to do (The IMs, introducing HIM to elementary schoolers, LOTR stick figures etc).
One of the times that really stuck with me was when Jackson was trying to teach me the song "Rudolph, the rednosed reindeer". Growing up in Sweden, I had only ever learned the Swedish version of the song, so it was fun to learn the English lyrics for it as well.
Except, it didn't really turn out to be an open-and-shut lesson at all.We were walking down the street to where Jackson lived at the time and Jackson was trying to teach me the words for the song. Jackson got to the third verse just as we passed a brightly lit yard with metal wire reindeer in the yard.
Just as Jackson sang the bit that goes
Then one foggy Christmas Eve
I met one of my best friends during this year and we came up with loads of more or less sane things to do (The IMs, introducing HIM to elementary schoolers, LOTR stick figures etc).
One of the times that really stuck with me was when Jackson was trying to teach me the song "Rudolph, the rednosed reindeer". Growing up in Sweden, I had only ever learned the Swedish version of the song, so it was fun to learn the English lyrics for it as well.
Except, it didn't really turn out to be an open-and-shut lesson at all.We were walking down the street to where Jackson lived at the time and Jackson was trying to teach me the words for the song. Jackson got to the third verse just as we passed a brightly lit yard with metal wire reindeer in the yard.
Just as Jackson sang the bit that goes
Then one foggy Christmas Eve
Santa came to say:
the reindeer decided to move its head. Since Jackson wasn't prepared for the sudden movement, they let out a "Fuck, it moved" which made the song take on a completely different tone from what I assume was the intended one.
I still claim that Jackson's version of the famous Christmas carol is an improvement, but I guess the original is more appropriate for school/holiday dinners/the likes.
*The title is named thus, because the LED reindeer always remind me of Zero from Nightmare Before Christmas
fredag 23 augusti 2013
Coffee
Until a few years ago, I hated coffee. I just didn't enjoy the taste, even though I have always loved the scent of freshly brewed coffee. I started to enjoy tea when I got back from Las Vegas in 2004, but I didn't drink anything caffeinated on a regular basis for years.
I met Boy in 2006 and towards the end of that same year, he introduced me to Irish Coffee. Now, alcoholic beverages is not something I recommend drinking, like ever (mainly because I don't like the taste of alcohol, and because of the problems inherent in any form of mind altering drugs), but the combination of coffee, cream, brown sugar, and the smooth taste of whiskey did something to my taste buds. I tried drinking just coffee the following week and found that I enjoyed it.
It took another two years before I learned to drink coffee without sugar, and I can still indulge in that excess from time to time. Usually, I find it too sweet, though. Like too many mocha candies.
I have learned to not become a harpy if I don't get coffee in the morning, but I still get headaches if I don't get any form of caffeine while waking up. My focus is severely impaired and I'm more easily distracted than normal if there isn't enough caffeine in my system. The harpy is sedated mostly by the combination of SSRI and caffeine. She was a lot worse before I started getting the booster shots of serotonin, even though she never was that bad.
That first cup of coffee in the day is still my favorite. Add some nice bread to make a yummy sandwich and my day is off to a great start. To find that one thing that instantly makes the day better seems like a great idea. I know I got mine. What's yours?
I met Boy in 2006 and towards the end of that same year, he introduced me to Irish Coffee. Now, alcoholic beverages is not something I recommend drinking, like ever (mainly because I don't like the taste of alcohol, and because of the problems inherent in any form of mind altering drugs), but the combination of coffee, cream, brown sugar, and the smooth taste of whiskey did something to my taste buds. I tried drinking just coffee the following week and found that I enjoyed it.
It took another two years before I learned to drink coffee without sugar, and I can still indulge in that excess from time to time. Usually, I find it too sweet, though. Like too many mocha candies.
I have learned to not become a harpy if I don't get coffee in the morning, but I still get headaches if I don't get any form of caffeine while waking up. My focus is severely impaired and I'm more easily distracted than normal if there isn't enough caffeine in my system. The harpy is sedated mostly by the combination of SSRI and caffeine. She was a lot worse before I started getting the booster shots of serotonin, even though she never was that bad.
That first cup of coffee in the day is still my favorite. Add some nice bread to make a yummy sandwich and my day is off to a great start. To find that one thing that instantly makes the day better seems like a great idea. I know I got mine. What's yours?
måndag 19 augusti 2013
Being a Woman
I was born a woman in the early winter of 1985.
When I was born, 31 days earlier than planned, I had no idea about the difference between men and women. I had no idea that there were distinctions between people, or even that there were other people outside my little world.
Years later, I learned that I am a girl.
I learned that I was supposed to wear pink and frills and skirts.
I learned that girls are quiet and kind and generous.
I learned that girls don't ask questions, girls are not curious.
I learned that there's such a thing as too much imagination.
I learned that girls don't climb trees or play among rocks or ride bikes dressed in panties and a too-long t-shirt.
But, you know what?
Not even once did people ask me what I thought about being a girl. Their definition was supposed to be enough.
It isn't. My definition of being a woman like me is my own. My definition of me is my own, and all that applies to me.
I am strong.
I am independent.
I am shy and introverted.
I get anxious among other people and I am a social person.
I was born a girl and I identify as female.
I can be rough and be a woman.
I can be feminine and be a woman.
I can be wild and fearless, kind and giving, and be a woman.
I can curse and rant and throw a tantrum, and I am still a woman.
I am smart. Being me is enough for me.
I am beautiful. I am willful. I am curious.
I am a woman. My definition of being a woman.
When I was born, 31 days earlier than planned, I had no idea about the difference between men and women. I had no idea that there were distinctions between people, or even that there were other people outside my little world.
Years later, I learned that I am a girl.
I learned that I was supposed to wear pink and frills and skirts.
I learned that girls are quiet and kind and generous.
I learned that girls don't ask questions, girls are not curious.
I learned that there's such a thing as too much imagination.
I learned that girls don't climb trees or play among rocks or ride bikes dressed in panties and a too-long t-shirt.
But, you know what?
Not even once did people ask me what I thought about being a girl. Their definition was supposed to be enough.
It isn't. My definition of being a woman like me is my own. My definition of me is my own, and all that applies to me.
I am strong.
I am independent.
I am shy and introverted.
I get anxious among other people and I am a social person.
I was born a girl and I identify as female.
I can be rough and be a woman.
I can be feminine and be a woman.
I can be wild and fearless, kind and giving, and be a woman.
I can curse and rant and throw a tantrum, and I am still a woman.
I am smart. Being me is enough for me.
I am beautiful. I am willful. I am curious.
I am a woman. My definition of being a woman.
Boredom
I have complained about being bored all my life. Sometimes, it's been bad enough for people around, especially adults, to throw me out of a room or tell me to go outside and play.
This video by VSauce put my boredom into a completely new perspective. For one thing, I discovered why I love puzzle games. They force me to think, to actually use my brain. I love challenges like that.
My mind is a very strange place, for several reasons.
1. I never think in words. My thoughts, ideas, and my imagination is always in pictures and images. Some are in color and some are in black-and-white, but my mind works like a commercial reel, one video clip after another after another. When I get stressed or panicky, the clips become a jumble, like the old movie reels when they get tangled.
2. I can find co-relations and comparisons in almost everything. For example, how anthropology and archaeology work together is completely logical to me. Same with space-time research and quantum mechanics. I can look at something and almost immediately see how it relates to something else.
3. My memory is pretty odd. As long as I can relate new information to something I already know, the new information will stick. It has to do with the relations-thing my mind does when it sees things.
4. I am extremely curious, so I go out of my way to find new and interesting information an experiences.
5. I have a very vivid and lively imagination, which I believe is related to #1 and #2.
How does this relate to boredom, you ask?
Well, I need things to do at a pretty constant rate in order to not feel stupid or bored. That fuzzy sensation when your will to live is slowly trickling out of your ears is not something I find enjoyable. I love puzzle games, because they keep my mind sharp. On the other hand, depression severely dulled my senses and I am very very VERY happy that the anti-depressants help clearing the fog from my mind.
Boredom scrambles the world I have created in my mind, and instead of a clear mountain lake filled with video reels (think cinematic records a la Black Butler), I have a monsoon storm of impressions, sensations, and thoughts. The upside is that I am forced to come up with new ways to keep my mind clear every time I get this bored. The downside is that I can get very aggressive and annoyed when my mind is scrambled.
Boredom feeds imagination. It pushes us forward, towards innovation and new ideas. It's the basis for imagination. But only if it's kept in check. Boredom can also feed depression and anxiety.
I wish that all kids would have the opportunity to feel soul crushing boredom at one point in their life. It might help propel their imagination and ambition to new heights.
This video by VSauce put my boredom into a completely new perspective. For one thing, I discovered why I love puzzle games. They force me to think, to actually use my brain. I love challenges like that.
My mind is a very strange place, for several reasons.
1. I never think in words. My thoughts, ideas, and my imagination is always in pictures and images. Some are in color and some are in black-and-white, but my mind works like a commercial reel, one video clip after another after another. When I get stressed or panicky, the clips become a jumble, like the old movie reels when they get tangled.
2. I can find co-relations and comparisons in almost everything. For example, how anthropology and archaeology work together is completely logical to me. Same with space-time research and quantum mechanics. I can look at something and almost immediately see how it relates to something else.
3. My memory is pretty odd. As long as I can relate new information to something I already know, the new information will stick. It has to do with the relations-thing my mind does when it sees things.
4. I am extremely curious, so I go out of my way to find new and interesting information an experiences.
5. I have a very vivid and lively imagination, which I believe is related to #1 and #2.
How does this relate to boredom, you ask?
Well, I need things to do at a pretty constant rate in order to not feel stupid or bored. That fuzzy sensation when your will to live is slowly trickling out of your ears is not something I find enjoyable. I love puzzle games, because they keep my mind sharp. On the other hand, depression severely dulled my senses and I am very very VERY happy that the anti-depressants help clearing the fog from my mind.
Boredom scrambles the world I have created in my mind, and instead of a clear mountain lake filled with video reels (think cinematic records a la Black Butler), I have a monsoon storm of impressions, sensations, and thoughts. The upside is that I am forced to come up with new ways to keep my mind clear every time I get this bored. The downside is that I can get very aggressive and annoyed when my mind is scrambled.
Boredom feeds imagination. It pushes us forward, towards innovation and new ideas. It's the basis for imagination. But only if it's kept in check. Boredom can also feed depression and anxiety.
I wish that all kids would have the opportunity to feel soul crushing boredom at one point in their life. It might help propel their imagination and ambition to new heights.
lördag 17 augusti 2013
Body Love
I am a bit overweight, according to BMI, and a lot overweight according to clothing retail stores. This really bothered me for the longest time. I have a fully developed eating disorder, that I try to fight every single day. Every time I eat something that's regarded unhealthy, I have to tell Guilt and Disappointment to kindly fuck the hell off. I am 27 years old and I am finally learning to love myself and my body just the way it is.
And why shouldn't I? Sure, I am regarded as overweight, and sure I can't always find clothes that fit when I go clothes hunting, but you know what?
I have no medical issues related to my weight.
I have no problems moving around.
I am a stickler about scent, so there's no part of my body that doesn't get washed on a daily basis.
Anyone who claims that fat/overweight people are stupid can go and eat a running chainsaw. I had a 15.2/20 grade average (Swedish standards) in high school and I scored a 1.5 out of 2.0 on my college entrance exam. I have an A on the Cambridge English Proficiency Exam. And I didn't even try!! I cruised through all of this and still got the grades to match.
So I have decided to give size-shaming the finger and delve into The Militant Baker's 25 Things list. So once per week I will post photos in accordance to her specifications. Everyone is welcome to join me, regardless of size. This project is about body love and EVERYONE is welcome.
All bodies are beautiful! All people are beautiful!
And why shouldn't I? Sure, I am regarded as overweight, and sure I can't always find clothes that fit when I go clothes hunting, but you know what?
I have no medical issues related to my weight.
I have no problems moving around.
I am a stickler about scent, so there's no part of my body that doesn't get washed on a daily basis.
Anyone who claims that fat/overweight people are stupid can go and eat a running chainsaw. I had a 15.2/20 grade average (Swedish standards) in high school and I scored a 1.5 out of 2.0 on my college entrance exam. I have an A on the Cambridge English Proficiency Exam. And I didn't even try!! I cruised through all of this and still got the grades to match.
So I have decided to give size-shaming the finger and delve into The Militant Baker's 25 Things list. So once per week I will post photos in accordance to her specifications. Everyone is welcome to join me, regardless of size. This project is about body love and EVERYONE is welcome.
All bodies are beautiful! All people are beautiful!
Prenumerera på:
Inlägg (Atom)