I'm so mad and heartbroken I could scream (and yes, I raised my voice a tiny bit this morning actually).
Here in our small town, we have a middlesized H&M (store for clothing). Once in awhile they have so called VIP events, where those who are members in Hennes club can go and eat a light breakfast (sandwish and coffee) and shop with 20% off in the store. A really nice event.
Or, at least I thought so when we went this morning...
As I stood amongst the hangers and clothes there, with coffe in my hand, I overheard the female entre host (she usually work in this store as well, and I've never liked her, but what I'm about to write takes the fucking prize anyday). She suddenly raised her voice and started to talk as to a deaf person, and I looked over to see what on earth she was doing.
I saw a woman, dark skinned, with headscarf, my guess is she's eritrean. The hostess wouldn't let her in (she actually yelled stop, hello, no, no to her before she even knew who this customer was) while she explained (still with that very unpleasant tone in her voice) that this was an event solely for H&M:s club members.
The customer said with low voice that she was, and got a "So, you'll have to announce your visit here today! If you're not on my list here, you wont get any free breakfast." Tone sharp, eyes wide open and mean. Well. She was on the list, it turned out. Still, the hostess wouldn't back down.
"Ok, but you only have five minutes left" she shouted after her down the aisle.
After this african woman, two small, blond ladies walked in. And guess what?
"Oh hello hello! Running a bit late now dears, hurry up! Breakfast is down this aisle, near gentlemens department." This said with a nice tone of voice, and a cute face.
Blaargh!! I throw up on the inside over these people. Aren't they ashamed to be alive?? I do NOT want to share my air with them, not at all.
Fortunately, this is just one of the girls in this store. But that is one too many already!
Her boss has now been notified, and I won't shop there again until that bitch leaves. AMEN.
tisdag
When opportunity knocks
Last Friday, it was decided and all clear that I'm going to lead evening courses! I couldn't possibly be more exited, although a little nervous of course. We (I and the company wich hired me to do this) decided to start off with five occasions, just to feel the pulse a bit. That suits me fine, not too much preassure.
The topic?
How you work with yourself to get back to a decent life from being burnt out.
That is a thing I know about really well, since I've been there two times by now. The last time it nearly took my life before I realized how bad I really was, and if I can only get through to just one person and stop them before they end up in that hell, I think it'll be so worth it.
I'm on my fourth year in slowly coming back to life, and now is the first time I can breath and feel ok again for most of my time. Of course (as you all have read in this blog) I fight and battle with a lot of things, almost daily, and I might never come to ease with exactly everything. But I'm slowly, slowly working my way forward, and away from the earlier darkness that wanted to suck me right down to hell once more.
Unfortunately, I have began having panicattacks again. Damn, it was almost eighteen years ago since the last one, and I don't have to tell you that they are not welcome, right? I hate their guts so badly, but I deal with them as much as I possibly have the strength to. I know perfectly well where all of this sh*t is coming from, but I don't exactly know how to avoid it. Guess time will tell, but I'm not planning on letting these attacks rule my life forever.
Well. This teaching thing is coming to me in the right moment, especially now when I feel low. If others have this confidence in me, I will have to have that too.
I never ever thought that I would teach again, but here I am, looking forward to it all. The planning of this course is by me alone, I get free hands to plan the most of it, but my upcoming "boss" is the one with the last word on my plans. It feels very nice to not have to take care of it all completely by myself this time (I'm fairly used to do exactly every little detail by myself, always...)
So far, I just have a basic plan with all, but I very well know in wich direction I want it all to travel. And most of all - the people attending this is very interested, eager to learn and has a good variety of ages amongst them. Just lovely!
One other thing that feels great at the moment is that I have gained some confidence in my scills once again. Long time no seen... I know that I'm good at teaching, I know that I'm good with people (although I prefer not to be around others all that much in private), and most of all - I know I can help others dealing with the same hell that I've gone through.
This is just a short update on my life at the moment, more to come later.
See ya <3
The topic?
How you work with yourself to get back to a decent life from being burnt out.
That is a thing I know about really well, since I've been there two times by now. The last time it nearly took my life before I realized how bad I really was, and if I can only get through to just one person and stop them before they end up in that hell, I think it'll be so worth it.
I'm on my fourth year in slowly coming back to life, and now is the first time I can breath and feel ok again for most of my time. Of course (as you all have read in this blog) I fight and battle with a lot of things, almost daily, and I might never come to ease with exactly everything. But I'm slowly, slowly working my way forward, and away from the earlier darkness that wanted to suck me right down to hell once more.
Unfortunately, I have began having panicattacks again. Damn, it was almost eighteen years ago since the last one, and I don't have to tell you that they are not welcome, right? I hate their guts so badly, but I deal with them as much as I possibly have the strength to. I know perfectly well where all of this sh*t is coming from, but I don't exactly know how to avoid it. Guess time will tell, but I'm not planning on letting these attacks rule my life forever.
Well. This teaching thing is coming to me in the right moment, especially now when I feel low. If others have this confidence in me, I will have to have that too.
I never ever thought that I would teach again, but here I am, looking forward to it all. The planning of this course is by me alone, I get free hands to plan the most of it, but my upcoming "boss" is the one with the last word on my plans. It feels very nice to not have to take care of it all completely by myself this time (I'm fairly used to do exactly every little detail by myself, always...)
So far, I just have a basic plan with all, but I very well know in wich direction I want it all to travel. And most of all - the people attending this is very interested, eager to learn and has a good variety of ages amongst them. Just lovely!
One other thing that feels great at the moment is that I have gained some confidence in my scills once again. Long time no seen... I know that I'm good at teaching, I know that I'm good with people (although I prefer not to be around others all that much in private), and most of all - I know I can help others dealing with the same hell that I've gone through.
This is just a short update on my life at the moment, more to come later.
See ya <3
Time to enjoy life
The sun is shining through the curtains. It's early morning, and I wake up with just a light headache.
In about two hours I have an appointment with my chiropractor, so I boost myself with a good amount of coffee. I'm always a bit scared when I go to him. Not scared of him, but for the pain he causes me while I lay there getting my neck and back cracked.
Today he was pretty kind on me. Sure, he gave me a good dose of pain, but in a good way. Everytime I leave there, I'm so grateful to be able to take deep breaths again, and move my neck (and head!) Earlier, I haven't been so good at looking after myself, but I'm getting better and better at it.
When You are taught to always care about others in the first place, it'll probably take some serious efforts to balance everything right. Caring about yourself doesn't feel kind, maybe it also feels very, very awkward. Maybe you've been called egoistic, naive or stupid the times you've tried earlier in your life. So, selflove isn't natural to you. But it can be!
I've worked so hard on this for several years now, and it finally starts to give results. It's a balancing act all the way - how much should you care about yourself? How often is it ok to actually say no? How do you avoid being too absorbed in your own? How do you care enough about others?
Everyone has their own limits, and should get to know them in every way they can. What is right for me might not be ok or even possible for you. Here's examples of how I did it (and still am...):
-Right now I'm thural about taking time to myself. For me, as a mother of four and a husband on the autistic spectra, it is absoultely a question about survival (mental survival most of all). It can be as simple as getting a box of sushi and going out in a park to enjoy it in silence, it can be a coffe from McDonalds' in the car at the trainstations parkinglot, it can be just sitting at the library with my nose in some magazines. The important thing here is that I am all by myself. No friends, no pets, nobody but just me. In silence. And this - no cellphone!
-Before my husband came into my life, I used to take long walks in the Woods. Often with a small lunch in the backpacker, and maybe a book. My oldest sons don't have a father (he isn't dead, he's just moved to another country and never were heard from again, but that's yet another story), so they're always at home with me. Here I can tell you that it was, in the beginning, extremely hard for me to just "be egoistic" and (for example) not buy anything for them when I bought some treats for just me, or make up for the two hours I left the house... Guilty consious de lux, yepp.
-I don't usually buy so much stuff at all, if I really don't need it. But every now and then, I buy a book or some pencils that I really want (even though I have a good amount of pencils already), or I buy a new piece of clothing (outlet often), and I try not to buy anything for anybody else in our family.
No, my kids do not run around naked or in rags. But I give them an amount every other month to buy clothes, shoes or what they need, so they are good there. I'm just trying to teach myself that I am worthy of a little selflove and being spoiled too from time to time.
Those of you who have kids know very well what I'm aiming at, right? To take time to myself has become necessary to be able to stand up for a whole week. The time I give to myself is giving me so much more energy to be a better mom, wife and friend. If everything at home is taken care of in the best of ways, I really think I deserve an hour at least just sipping tea or coffee, reading my book.
Because, frankly, the dishes will wait for me (if my loved isn't doing them), and there will always be clothes left to wash. So, time alone is time well invested in the long run.
This hasn't been easy at all. In the beginning, all I heard in my head (altohough I just grabbed a coffe to go on my way to kindergarden) was how lousy I were to spoil my self with just that coffee. Why should I? But the result was that I really couldn't enjoy my coffee at all, and that was a waste if any. Buy coffee just to throw it away out of guilt.... Go me....
By now I always repeat in my head, as a kind of mantra "It's my right to enjoy this coffee, it's my right to take deep breaths, it's my right to...." You get it?
So. Go out there and demand at least one hour (two if possible, that's how long it takes for your body to calm down) maybe two times a week. Everybody will benefit from it in the long run! <3
In about two hours I have an appointment with my chiropractor, so I boost myself with a good amount of coffee. I'm always a bit scared when I go to him. Not scared of him, but for the pain he causes me while I lay there getting my neck and back cracked.
Today he was pretty kind on me. Sure, he gave me a good dose of pain, but in a good way. Everytime I leave there, I'm so grateful to be able to take deep breaths again, and move my neck (and head!) Earlier, I haven't been so good at looking after myself, but I'm getting better and better at it.
When You are taught to always care about others in the first place, it'll probably take some serious efforts to balance everything right. Caring about yourself doesn't feel kind, maybe it also feels very, very awkward. Maybe you've been called egoistic, naive or stupid the times you've tried earlier in your life. So, selflove isn't natural to you. But it can be!
I've worked so hard on this for several years now, and it finally starts to give results. It's a balancing act all the way - how much should you care about yourself? How often is it ok to actually say no? How do you avoid being too absorbed in your own? How do you care enough about others?
Everyone has their own limits, and should get to know them in every way they can. What is right for me might not be ok or even possible for you. Here's examples of how I did it (and still am...):
-Right now I'm thural about taking time to myself. For me, as a mother of four and a husband on the autistic spectra, it is absoultely a question about survival (mental survival most of all). It can be as simple as getting a box of sushi and going out in a park to enjoy it in silence, it can be a coffe from McDonalds' in the car at the trainstations parkinglot, it can be just sitting at the library with my nose in some magazines. The important thing here is that I am all by myself. No friends, no pets, nobody but just me. In silence. And this - no cellphone!
-Before my husband came into my life, I used to take long walks in the Woods. Often with a small lunch in the backpacker, and maybe a book. My oldest sons don't have a father (he isn't dead, he's just moved to another country and never were heard from again, but that's yet another story), so they're always at home with me. Here I can tell you that it was, in the beginning, extremely hard for me to just "be egoistic" and (for example) not buy anything for them when I bought some treats for just me, or make up for the two hours I left the house... Guilty consious de lux, yepp.
-I don't usually buy so much stuff at all, if I really don't need it. But every now and then, I buy a book or some pencils that I really want (even though I have a good amount of pencils already), or I buy a new piece of clothing (outlet often), and I try not to buy anything for anybody else in our family.
No, my kids do not run around naked or in rags. But I give them an amount every other month to buy clothes, shoes or what they need, so they are good there. I'm just trying to teach myself that I am worthy of a little selflove and being spoiled too from time to time.
Those of you who have kids know very well what I'm aiming at, right? To take time to myself has become necessary to be able to stand up for a whole week. The time I give to myself is giving me so much more energy to be a better mom, wife and friend. If everything at home is taken care of in the best of ways, I really think I deserve an hour at least just sipping tea or coffee, reading my book.
Because, frankly, the dishes will wait for me (if my loved isn't doing them), and there will always be clothes left to wash. So, time alone is time well invested in the long run.
This hasn't been easy at all. In the beginning, all I heard in my head (altohough I just grabbed a coffe to go on my way to kindergarden) was how lousy I were to spoil my self with just that coffee. Why should I? But the result was that I really couldn't enjoy my coffee at all, and that was a waste if any. Buy coffee just to throw it away out of guilt.... Go me....
By now I always repeat in my head, as a kind of mantra "It's my right to enjoy this coffee, it's my right to take deep breaths, it's my right to...." You get it?
So. Go out there and demand at least one hour (two if possible, that's how long it takes for your body to calm down) maybe two times a week. Everybody will benefit from it in the long run! <3
lördag
This thing called guilty consious
I'm a parent of four. Four boys in ninteens years, and they are my teachers, guides, sweethearts and biggest inspiration. I often wonder where I would have been if they hadn't come into my life, but one thing is sure - I wouldn't have been the person that I am today.
Having children is a huge step in life. Like any other, I didn't relize how big of a thing that was, until I had my first son nineteen years ago. Beeing me, with the childhood that I've had, it struck me then, and still strikes me every day, how people can have children and still behave like idiots, how people can have children and treat them like garbage (or worse). I was overwhealmed by all the love and the feelings of protection I felt -and still feel- towards my children. Of course I've not been the perfect parent at all times, I too must learn. But I have never in their life hit them, humiliated them or not taken their side when they needed it.
Others have called me a too strict parent from time to time, but I am certain of the fact that children needs clear lines and promises not broken of any kind. If they have missbehaved and I have told them that the weekend candy is off if they do, I stand my ground. No, I don't think that's being hard on them, I think (and now know for sure) that that kind of behaviour from me actually gives them a safe ground to stand on. I have never threatened to beat them up, ever. I have never punished them like I was punished, and I have always been there for them.
Even when I hit the wall four years ago, I was still there for my kids. That was actually the only thing I could hold on to at that time in my life. So I thank every god that I have my kids. Without them I'm empty.
When my second son was born, I had grown a big guilty consious around pretty much everything. I was never good enough of a mother, wife or anything, I could always have done more than I did, etc etc. So one day, it just popped into my head - I'm freaking doing the very best I can. Yes.
Right then and there I understood fully how much having this guilt clinging on to me the whole time took so much of my energy away. Strange that I hadn't noticed this earlier though.
I personally think much guilt came from the need to be better than my own mother, that and the fact that we (my husband and I) were young parents. I wanted to prove that I was just as good as all the other mothers around us, I wanted to prove to my mother in law that I could take care of our family despite what she gossips about with her friends, I wanted everybody to see how good I was. No preassure....
Stupid, silly me. Why couldn't I just relax and be satisfied with me doing what I could? So much time feeling like a failure. Time lost, never coming back.
Of course I'm grateful now that it sooner or later got into my head, that part regarding having a permanent guilt in my heart. Actually, how bad things have gotten in my life during the years, I have always tried to rest in just that - I do the best I can, I am the best I can be at the moment.
Also, having kids of course have made me analyze even more about my own family. It has been a very long and hard road. To accept that I was treated and bullied amongst my own is hurtful. Even more hurtful because I now have a family of my own to compare everything against.
Come to think of it, getting children have probably even helped heal me in a way, because now I know that I'm a good person. Finally. And that I am human after all. A human being with feelings, faults and good sides, strenghts and spots of dirt. And that's ok, I'm ok.
By now I'm a bit over fourty, and I don't have even a tiny bit of guilt in me. Ok, if you count the times I let the family have take'out food or buy a thing that we don't really need, ok.... But I mean guilt over being a not good enough person, because I know I am.
Having children is a huge step in life. Like any other, I didn't relize how big of a thing that was, until I had my first son nineteen years ago. Beeing me, with the childhood that I've had, it struck me then, and still strikes me every day, how people can have children and still behave like idiots, how people can have children and treat them like garbage (or worse). I was overwhealmed by all the love and the feelings of protection I felt -and still feel- towards my children. Of course I've not been the perfect parent at all times, I too must learn. But I have never in their life hit them, humiliated them or not taken their side when they needed it.
Others have called me a too strict parent from time to time, but I am certain of the fact that children needs clear lines and promises not broken of any kind. If they have missbehaved and I have told them that the weekend candy is off if they do, I stand my ground. No, I don't think that's being hard on them, I think (and now know for sure) that that kind of behaviour from me actually gives them a safe ground to stand on. I have never threatened to beat them up, ever. I have never punished them like I was punished, and I have always been there for them.
Even when I hit the wall four years ago, I was still there for my kids. That was actually the only thing I could hold on to at that time in my life. So I thank every god that I have my kids. Without them I'm empty.
When my second son was born, I had grown a big guilty consious around pretty much everything. I was never good enough of a mother, wife or anything, I could always have done more than I did, etc etc. So one day, it just popped into my head - I'm freaking doing the very best I can. Yes.
Right then and there I understood fully how much having this guilt clinging on to me the whole time took so much of my energy away. Strange that I hadn't noticed this earlier though.
I personally think much guilt came from the need to be better than my own mother, that and the fact that we (my husband and I) were young parents. I wanted to prove that I was just as good as all the other mothers around us, I wanted to prove to my mother in law that I could take care of our family despite what she gossips about with her friends, I wanted everybody to see how good I was. No preassure....
Stupid, silly me. Why couldn't I just relax and be satisfied with me doing what I could? So much time feeling like a failure. Time lost, never coming back.
Of course I'm grateful now that it sooner or later got into my head, that part regarding having a permanent guilt in my heart. Actually, how bad things have gotten in my life during the years, I have always tried to rest in just that - I do the best I can, I am the best I can be at the moment.
Also, having kids of course have made me analyze even more about my own family. It has been a very long and hard road. To accept that I was treated and bullied amongst my own is hurtful. Even more hurtful because I now have a family of my own to compare everything against.
Come to think of it, getting children have probably even helped heal me in a way, because now I know that I'm a good person. Finally. And that I am human after all. A human being with feelings, faults and good sides, strenghts and spots of dirt. And that's ok, I'm ok.
By now I'm a bit over fourty, and I don't have even a tiny bit of guilt in me. Ok, if you count the times I let the family have take'out food or buy a thing that we don't really need, ok.... But I mean guilt over being a not good enough person, because I know I am.
fredag
When the views change for the better
Suddenly it strikes you out of nowhere. Suddenly it's clear, chrystal clear. You never expected it at all, but here it is - a brand new way of looking at things. Just like that.
Most of you have had a moment or more like this, I'm sure of that. And it's always so welcome!
This happened to me just yesterday. In my earlier post, I wrote about my sister and a bit about our hurtful, broken realtionship. Since the facebook thing, I've been (as always) through multiple thoughts and feelings.
I pretty much end up with the same results as always - I'm worthless, not good enough for their company, and most of all: They hate me and the person that I am. And that hurts a lot. Never in my life (although I really wanted to) have I been able to see things differently than what I've been fed with from early childhood. My family (mostly my mother that would be) is ashamed of me, I'm always wrong (even when I'm right) and I can do no good to anybody. If I'm nice - I'm after something. If I'm bad - well, they knew that I could never behave anyways. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, no matter what.
So, what do you do, and what do you answer to that? Really?
What never struck me in the depth of my heart was this: Maybe I'm not the "bad guy" here. Maybe, just maybe, I'm the good one, the one that sees the truth and actually refuse to settle with the lies. Maybe I was that child that had the strength not to give in to their darkness (but it was a hard struggle to stand out and make protests like I did), and maybe they are the ones that should be ashamed. If any.
Not me. Ever.
But now I see things in a different light. Eariler, when we were younger, I could never understand why my sister wasn't treated so good by some of her friends. I could only feel so very sorry for her about that. For me she was the perfect girl, mom said so over and over again (and how not perfect I was on the other hand, she never sat out a chance to tell me so). Later on, in our teens, I couldn't understand why my sister rated every guy that wasn't so good looking, rich or popular etc etc. But of course she did the right thing by humiliating the boys that lost their heart to her. They were to much geek, wore to ugly glasses, didnt' have the right clothing... They never were good enough for her. But that too was completely right.
She seldom had nice things to say about her classmates. They were too stuck up, they were given the evil eye (who did they think they were - princesses??) if they had nicer clothing or a beatiful hairdo.
And mother fed her (and us all) with more and more envy and jealousy. At the age of nineteen we were fully hatfull teens with not much good to say about anyone that were good looking, rich or had things we didn't have or couldn't get.
At my sisters first employment, they didn't like her. Missunderstood, something is very wrong with those coworkers, of course.
At my sisters second job, she didn't get along with the others either, but she hung in there until she found a new place. But oh the crap I had to hear every day about the others at her work. It never came to an end, ever.
Not even then I could think from a different angle, and see that it was actually my own sister that was the troublemaker and bully. Because she was perfect, still. Everyone seemed to think so. Exept for the ones she didn't get along with. But that was their own fault of course.
A good friend of mine pointed out just yesterday, that my sisters never had anything good to say about me or/and my friends of choise either. I listened to that with half an ear, but when I got home later that evening, that was when it all struck me like sharp lightning.
I have been led to believe that I can't love or enjoy others. And that I am unable to make others happy, that I destroy everyone elses joy. That I hate animals and children, that I can't take care of anything, that my friends are loosers.... You name it.
As I walked through the forest, with my dog, I just thought "When did I ever hear them say a nice word about anybody? Really? When was the last time they all said something nice to or about anyone around us?" Considering it has been a good six years since I spoke to them, I had to think really hard before I could answer my own questions here.
Never. I. Have. Never. Heard. A. Single. Nice. Word. About. Others.
Talk about hallelulja moment. Plopp. Just like that.
When I broke up with my family, it took a couple of years before I could honestly say (and mean it) that another girl was beautiful, smart or funny. But as soon as I began using those words more and more, I also began to feel happier. When I wasn't starring myself blind on others faults and problems, I actually began to move forward inside myself.
I have never questioned why it felt so strangely good to say nice things about others until now. I never thought so deeply about it. Maybe it sounds strange, but that's the way it was.
Every time I said warm words to a person, I felt (and still feels) like I invented something brand new, that's the closest to an explanation I can give you.
And still, through all these years, I have clung onto that feeling that my sister was the good one of us, when that wasn't really the whole truth.
If she was that nice, why would there always be a fight or bad feelings where ever she went?
And all the times when people asked where my name comes from and if I'm related to the others with the same name here... When I say yes to that question, people tend to look at me with a bit of.... hm... deprecation in their eyes.
I have always thought that must be because of what they've heard about me, but now I discovered that isn't really the case. My family isn't popular because of all the hurt they've spread around here in our town. They're not liked because of the lies, the bad behaviours and exploitation of others.
It has never been me. I have fooled myself to believe that everyone must know how bad of a person I am, and therefor react by that. It never came to my mind that I have almost never hurt another human here (if you don't count the times I've called of relationships in my teens etc). The times (and there are many, although I do not want to admit it) when people give me hugs just out on the street cause it's been long since they saw me, the times that I meet happy faces and smiles, the times when people come to my house for a chit chat and coffe, well... It never occured to me that these people actually like me. Me. I'm not impopular, but I sure as hell has made myself believe that. Until now.
But now it stops. Because once the truth is ut in the light, it can't be covered no more.
So. Belive in your own good <3
Most of you have had a moment or more like this, I'm sure of that. And it's always so welcome!
This happened to me just yesterday. In my earlier post, I wrote about my sister and a bit about our hurtful, broken realtionship. Since the facebook thing, I've been (as always) through multiple thoughts and feelings.
I pretty much end up with the same results as always - I'm worthless, not good enough for their company, and most of all: They hate me and the person that I am. And that hurts a lot. Never in my life (although I really wanted to) have I been able to see things differently than what I've been fed with from early childhood. My family (mostly my mother that would be) is ashamed of me, I'm always wrong (even when I'm right) and I can do no good to anybody. If I'm nice - I'm after something. If I'm bad - well, they knew that I could never behave anyways. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, no matter what.
So, what do you do, and what do you answer to that? Really?
What never struck me in the depth of my heart was this: Maybe I'm not the "bad guy" here. Maybe, just maybe, I'm the good one, the one that sees the truth and actually refuse to settle with the lies. Maybe I was that child that had the strength not to give in to their darkness (but it was a hard struggle to stand out and make protests like I did), and maybe they are the ones that should be ashamed. If any.
Not me. Ever.
But now I see things in a different light. Eariler, when we were younger, I could never understand why my sister wasn't treated so good by some of her friends. I could only feel so very sorry for her about that. For me she was the perfect girl, mom said so over and over again (and how not perfect I was on the other hand, she never sat out a chance to tell me so). Later on, in our teens, I couldn't understand why my sister rated every guy that wasn't so good looking, rich or popular etc etc. But of course she did the right thing by humiliating the boys that lost their heart to her. They were to much geek, wore to ugly glasses, didnt' have the right clothing... They never were good enough for her. But that too was completely right.
She seldom had nice things to say about her classmates. They were too stuck up, they were given the evil eye (who did they think they were - princesses??) if they had nicer clothing or a beatiful hairdo.
And mother fed her (and us all) with more and more envy and jealousy. At the age of nineteen we were fully hatfull teens with not much good to say about anyone that were good looking, rich or had things we didn't have or couldn't get.
At my sisters first employment, they didn't like her. Missunderstood, something is very wrong with those coworkers, of course.
At my sisters second job, she didn't get along with the others either, but she hung in there until she found a new place. But oh the crap I had to hear every day about the others at her work. It never came to an end, ever.
Not even then I could think from a different angle, and see that it was actually my own sister that was the troublemaker and bully. Because she was perfect, still. Everyone seemed to think so. Exept for the ones she didn't get along with. But that was their own fault of course.
A good friend of mine pointed out just yesterday, that my sisters never had anything good to say about me or/and my friends of choise either. I listened to that with half an ear, but when I got home later that evening, that was when it all struck me like sharp lightning.
I have been led to believe that I can't love or enjoy others. And that I am unable to make others happy, that I destroy everyone elses joy. That I hate animals and children, that I can't take care of anything, that my friends are loosers.... You name it.
As I walked through the forest, with my dog, I just thought "When did I ever hear them say a nice word about anybody? Really? When was the last time they all said something nice to or about anyone around us?" Considering it has been a good six years since I spoke to them, I had to think really hard before I could answer my own questions here.
Never. I. Have. Never. Heard. A. Single. Nice. Word. About. Others.
Talk about hallelulja moment. Plopp. Just like that.
When I broke up with my family, it took a couple of years before I could honestly say (and mean it) that another girl was beautiful, smart or funny. But as soon as I began using those words more and more, I also began to feel happier. When I wasn't starring myself blind on others faults and problems, I actually began to move forward inside myself.
I have never questioned why it felt so strangely good to say nice things about others until now. I never thought so deeply about it. Maybe it sounds strange, but that's the way it was.
Every time I said warm words to a person, I felt (and still feels) like I invented something brand new, that's the closest to an explanation I can give you.
And still, through all these years, I have clung onto that feeling that my sister was the good one of us, when that wasn't really the whole truth.
If she was that nice, why would there always be a fight or bad feelings where ever she went?
And all the times when people asked where my name comes from and if I'm related to the others with the same name here... When I say yes to that question, people tend to look at me with a bit of.... hm... deprecation in their eyes.
I have always thought that must be because of what they've heard about me, but now I discovered that isn't really the case. My family isn't popular because of all the hurt they've spread around here in our town. They're not liked because of the lies, the bad behaviours and exploitation of others.
It has never been me. I have fooled myself to believe that everyone must know how bad of a person I am, and therefor react by that. It never came to my mind that I have almost never hurt another human here (if you don't count the times I've called of relationships in my teens etc). The times (and there are many, although I do not want to admit it) when people give me hugs just out on the street cause it's been long since they saw me, the times that I meet happy faces and smiles, the times when people come to my house for a chit chat and coffe, well... It never occured to me that these people actually like me. Me. I'm not impopular, but I sure as hell has made myself believe that. Until now.
But now it stops. Because once the truth is ut in the light, it can't be covered no more.
So. Belive in your own good <3
tisdag
Goodbye relatives
Although I'm not the very best at updating this blog, sorry for that, I'm still here.
Last few weeks has been a roller coaster emotionally (not unusual), but I'm pretty much ok by now.
This year is my third in dynamic psychotherapy. When I began with this therapist, very little hope were given about me ever coming back from the depth of depression. She has really helped me, this one, and I'm now proud to say I begin to feel whole. I never felt that in my life, secure and calm, but now I do most of the time.
(A bit more about my childhood is written at the blog dandelionschild.blogspot.com. I couldn't write more in that place right now, too painful. But I'll catch up with my upcoming book soon enough,).
For many years I strongly believed that a perfect person was never angry, bitter, sad or said ugly things. I measured myself in the lowest of standards every time I got disappointed and therefor sad or angry. Imagine the preassure...Year after year I beat my self up for not being happy, for not trusting blindly, for not understanding shallow relationships etc etc. I was a looser, a failure, a paria.
Now, after this time in therapy, I've come to understand that your'e NOT evil for saying no, not evil for standing your ground or not accepting others bahaviour towards you (and your mind and body). Talk about a new world for me!
Right now, when I finally got hang of it, I feel very much free inside. Free, less stress and more at peace with who I really am. About a year into talking about my childhood, my therapist finally got a clue on who I am and why. And she ultimately gave me the "diagnosis" dissociation. Then the hard work on my soul and mind took of. I have often wondered if it's really worth it in the end, the pain, shame, sorrows and all the other devastating feelings that comes up to my surface during this long process. As for the passed week now, I know for sure that it is totally good, all this. I've come miles from where I started out, and this is why:
I haven't had any contact with my sisters or my mother for about six years now. I chose to cut it all when my grandparents died, once and for all. Before my grandmother died, she actually was very encouraging about me saying goodbye to them all. She thought it was sad that our family is so much of a bitter, nasty freakshow (her words) but she understood very well why I couldn't live like them anymore. One can't go on hating, talking behind backs, always attempting to gather "points" to have hooks on others, not saying hi or even give a cup of sugar to the nabour....
So when I got her sign and blessing, I just waited for her to pass away so that she wouldn't have to witness the war that followed. Actually, I didn't even go to her funural -for many reasons, one was that my mother and sisters very much wanted to give her the cheapest ceremony possible, simplest flowers and coffin, more money left for them from the heritage they said - I throw up on the inside even thinking about that time they said that in our funeral office.
Me, my husband and my kids got our own ceremony with her, thanks to the undertaker. And that was a worthy goodbye for both of our parts.
I sat at her side the last night when she was about to pass away. None of our other family thought it was relevant to be with her then at all. After all that she did her entire life for the others (and she did a lot, believe me), they had absolutely nothing to offer her at her very last hour. Painful to see my own family behaving this way. But not surprising at all. Even then, I couldn't manage to handle these ugly souls, I just cried and begged them to come to their senses, but no.
An hour after I left the hospital, she passed on. None of my relatives called me, I just got a text from my sister the morning after that said "She passed at 02.16, thought you should know".
Nothing more, not a word more. Later on, they accused me of her death that night, because I was the last one who saw her alive. Not the terminal cancer that she fought against was to blame, it was obviously me that caused her death. I (stupidly enough) forgave them for saying that, but of course I was angry. But as granny said - freakshow. I still believed that I had no right to say no to them, that I had no right to demand respect. Silly me. Stupid me.
So, it's been six years now, or maybe seven. The day I took the final descision not to see them as my family anymore, that was the day I was born. Litterally. Through the therapy I have learned how this kind of families are dysfunctional, and what follows from their fucked up behaviour. It's actually really horrifying to witness this, to having to see that I lived amongst this sickness my whole life. I've force myself to see without filters, even what I did wrong to others, and that hurts like hell, because I was once one of them but thought I was "not so bad". I too hated, feasted on others sorrows and weak sides, I too was black, inside and out.
Despite this, the last saturday, I sentn a inquiry to one of my two sisters (the milder one) on facebook. She accepted, and I was carefully optimistic about us at least being able to say hi if we meet at the streets of our town. But then she saw that I put her under a filter, so she couldn't see everything in my groups, and of course she shut me of with the Words "If I can't move on your fb like I want to, you have nothing to offer me. So now You know".
I became icecold inside, totally blanc. My thought with the filter was just that, that I wanted us to start of carefully, and of course I didn't want her to get "the whole me" to dig around in just like that. I should mention that she did the same to me a couple of years ago, for something she thought I said about her that weren't true (did she ask me first? No...) So, if it is ok for her, it should be ok for me, but no, no no. I replied to her that it was unfortunate that she didn't say something to me first, before cutting me off. I wanted to say so much more to her..... but this is what I didn't write: I'm sorry, please forgive me, please accept me, please talk to me, see me as I am....
That is was she is used to, me begging. But not anymore. I was very pleased that that thought didn't even cross my mind. The feeling and thought that did cross my mind, however, was how right my earlier absence actually was. It's still on their demands, not ever mine. But I didn't throw that in her face like I first wanted to, I wrote nothing more and closed the conversation.
This is my receipt on my prosperity that I've had, despite the hurt the therapy had caused me.
Yes, I am angry, sad, ashamed and hurt. But this shows just what I already knew, that we should have no contact at all.
For those of you who read my other blog, I think you will understand a bit more.
The inference of all this is - stand your freaking ground, belive that what you feel in your deepest soul and heart is real no matter what others tell you. Do good to others, but only if they do good to you, and do NOT hesitate to leave, that's the best you can do loved. And allow your self to feel love.
Last few weeks has been a roller coaster emotionally (not unusual), but I'm pretty much ok by now.
This year is my third in dynamic psychotherapy. When I began with this therapist, very little hope were given about me ever coming back from the depth of depression. She has really helped me, this one, and I'm now proud to say I begin to feel whole. I never felt that in my life, secure and calm, but now I do most of the time.
(A bit more about my childhood is written at the blog dandelionschild.blogspot.com. I couldn't write more in that place right now, too painful. But I'll catch up with my upcoming book soon enough,).
For many years I strongly believed that a perfect person was never angry, bitter, sad or said ugly things. I measured myself in the lowest of standards every time I got disappointed and therefor sad or angry. Imagine the preassure...Year after year I beat my self up for not being happy, for not trusting blindly, for not understanding shallow relationships etc etc. I was a looser, a failure, a paria.
Now, after this time in therapy, I've come to understand that your'e NOT evil for saying no, not evil for standing your ground or not accepting others bahaviour towards you (and your mind and body). Talk about a new world for me!
Right now, when I finally got hang of it, I feel very much free inside. Free, less stress and more at peace with who I really am. About a year into talking about my childhood, my therapist finally got a clue on who I am and why. And she ultimately gave me the "diagnosis" dissociation. Then the hard work on my soul and mind took of. I have often wondered if it's really worth it in the end, the pain, shame, sorrows and all the other devastating feelings that comes up to my surface during this long process. As for the passed week now, I know for sure that it is totally good, all this. I've come miles from where I started out, and this is why:
I haven't had any contact with my sisters or my mother for about six years now. I chose to cut it all when my grandparents died, once and for all. Before my grandmother died, she actually was very encouraging about me saying goodbye to them all. She thought it was sad that our family is so much of a bitter, nasty freakshow (her words) but she understood very well why I couldn't live like them anymore. One can't go on hating, talking behind backs, always attempting to gather "points" to have hooks on others, not saying hi or even give a cup of sugar to the nabour....
So when I got her sign and blessing, I just waited for her to pass away so that she wouldn't have to witness the war that followed. Actually, I didn't even go to her funural -for many reasons, one was that my mother and sisters very much wanted to give her the cheapest ceremony possible, simplest flowers and coffin, more money left for them from the heritage they said - I throw up on the inside even thinking about that time they said that in our funeral office.
Me, my husband and my kids got our own ceremony with her, thanks to the undertaker. And that was a worthy goodbye for both of our parts.
I sat at her side the last night when she was about to pass away. None of our other family thought it was relevant to be with her then at all. After all that she did her entire life for the others (and she did a lot, believe me), they had absolutely nothing to offer her at her very last hour. Painful to see my own family behaving this way. But not surprising at all. Even then, I couldn't manage to handle these ugly souls, I just cried and begged them to come to their senses, but no.
An hour after I left the hospital, she passed on. None of my relatives called me, I just got a text from my sister the morning after that said "She passed at 02.16, thought you should know".
Nothing more, not a word more. Later on, they accused me of her death that night, because I was the last one who saw her alive. Not the terminal cancer that she fought against was to blame, it was obviously me that caused her death. I (stupidly enough) forgave them for saying that, but of course I was angry. But as granny said - freakshow. I still believed that I had no right to say no to them, that I had no right to demand respect. Silly me. Stupid me.
So, it's been six years now, or maybe seven. The day I took the final descision not to see them as my family anymore, that was the day I was born. Litterally. Through the therapy I have learned how this kind of families are dysfunctional, and what follows from their fucked up behaviour. It's actually really horrifying to witness this, to having to see that I lived amongst this sickness my whole life. I've force myself to see without filters, even what I did wrong to others, and that hurts like hell, because I was once one of them but thought I was "not so bad". I too hated, feasted on others sorrows and weak sides, I too was black, inside and out.
Despite this, the last saturday, I sentn a inquiry to one of my two sisters (the milder one) on facebook. She accepted, and I was carefully optimistic about us at least being able to say hi if we meet at the streets of our town. But then she saw that I put her under a filter, so she couldn't see everything in my groups, and of course she shut me of with the Words "If I can't move on your fb like I want to, you have nothing to offer me. So now You know".
I became icecold inside, totally blanc. My thought with the filter was just that, that I wanted us to start of carefully, and of course I didn't want her to get "the whole me" to dig around in just like that. I should mention that she did the same to me a couple of years ago, for something she thought I said about her that weren't true (did she ask me first? No...) So, if it is ok for her, it should be ok for me, but no, no no. I replied to her that it was unfortunate that she didn't say something to me first, before cutting me off. I wanted to say so much more to her..... but this is what I didn't write: I'm sorry, please forgive me, please accept me, please talk to me, see me as I am....
That is was she is used to, me begging. But not anymore. I was very pleased that that thought didn't even cross my mind. The feeling and thought that did cross my mind, however, was how right my earlier absence actually was. It's still on their demands, not ever mine. But I didn't throw that in her face like I first wanted to, I wrote nothing more and closed the conversation.
This is my receipt on my prosperity that I've had, despite the hurt the therapy had caused me.
Yes, I am angry, sad, ashamed and hurt. But this shows just what I already knew, that we should have no contact at all.
For those of you who read my other blog, I think you will understand a bit more.
The inference of all this is - stand your freaking ground, belive that what you feel in your deepest soul and heart is real no matter what others tell you. Do good to others, but only if they do good to you, and do NOT hesitate to leave, that's the best you can do loved. And allow your self to feel love.
torsdag
Just let me sleep
Even though I've come pretty far on my journey to feel better, I sometimes fall into old patterns again. Without even noticing actually..
The last two weeks, I've winded myself up to the level where I have troubles getting to sleep, have no feelings of hunger, and run forward like a bulldozer here at home.
Yesterday I just stopped in the middle of it all and almost slapped myself when I finally saw what I was doing.
First, I got frustrated, then sad, then tired, then determined to make it stop.
Through out the last year, I've worked out a kind of checklist to get to the bottom with my behavior as soon as possible. It looks something like this (and is measured during three days):
-Have I eaten? (When and what did I eat, and how?)
-Have I slept? (When, how much, continuously?)
-Showered?
-Been outside in broad daylight?
-Exercised?
When I am a bit of a mess, all of the above is out of balance. And they mostly work depending on each other.
So, where do I start when I want to correct it all before it goes even further down the line?
If I look at this now, during these weeks, it would probably be like this:
-I've eaten in a hurry (because of our youngest, he's a handfull right now). And when I've been eating, I'm always stressed out, so I tend to eat fast carbs, like bread and pasta (my body really dislikes gluten, too bad...) and candy more often than usually. So, my stomach is angry with me.
-Sleep. Hm... My beloved husband is down with a nasty cold. This means he snores and coughes - a lot. Our toddler also got this virus, so he sleeps every now and then during the day and night. No pattern at all. So my sleep is out of order. Big time.
-Shower, getting outdoors and maybe do my exercises, well.. Ok, that part I do , not least because our dog needs her time in the woods.
So today I've been pretty hard on my family, but I refuse to have a guilty conscious about that.
I demanded to get to eat my breakfast properly (my oldest had to take care of baby toddler for ten sweaty minutes), I took a longer walk with our dog than I usually do, and we all ate dinner (even though I get to eat after hubs, so we can take turns in watching the baby who is not at all cooperative while at the dinner table at the moment) and no one was allowed to rush through it just to get away from the table and back to the computer.
Yei for me!
This night, I even demanded to have the bedroom all by myself, and the baby. As long as my man is having this cold (and snores like I don't know what), I think it's in order for him to sleep in the guestroom. Either that, or I'll have to punch him several times at night, and that I really don't want to do. Nor do I want to get frustrated and angry at him over this. Completely unnecessary if we can avoid it.
I can really recommend you all to make a list like this, I think it helps most of the time.
Make room for columns marked Problem, Cause and Solution. Just try for a while, Hope it works as good for you as it does for me.
The last two weeks, I've winded myself up to the level where I have troubles getting to sleep, have no feelings of hunger, and run forward like a bulldozer here at home.
Yesterday I just stopped in the middle of it all and almost slapped myself when I finally saw what I was doing.
First, I got frustrated, then sad, then tired, then determined to make it stop.
Through out the last year, I've worked out a kind of checklist to get to the bottom with my behavior as soon as possible. It looks something like this (and is measured during three days):
-Have I eaten? (When and what did I eat, and how?)
-Have I slept? (When, how much, continuously?)
-Showered?
-Been outside in broad daylight?
-Exercised?
When I am a bit of a mess, all of the above is out of balance. And they mostly work depending on each other.
So, where do I start when I want to correct it all before it goes even further down the line?
If I look at this now, during these weeks, it would probably be like this:
-I've eaten in a hurry (because of our youngest, he's a handfull right now). And when I've been eating, I'm always stressed out, so I tend to eat fast carbs, like bread and pasta (my body really dislikes gluten, too bad...) and candy more often than usually. So, my stomach is angry with me.
-Sleep. Hm... My beloved husband is down with a nasty cold. This means he snores and coughes - a lot. Our toddler also got this virus, so he sleeps every now and then during the day and night. No pattern at all. So my sleep is out of order. Big time.
-Shower, getting outdoors and maybe do my exercises, well.. Ok, that part I do , not least because our dog needs her time in the woods.
So today I've been pretty hard on my family, but I refuse to have a guilty conscious about that.
I demanded to get to eat my breakfast properly (my oldest had to take care of baby toddler for ten sweaty minutes), I took a longer walk with our dog than I usually do, and we all ate dinner (even though I get to eat after hubs, so we can take turns in watching the baby who is not at all cooperative while at the dinner table at the moment) and no one was allowed to rush through it just to get away from the table and back to the computer.
Yei for me!
This night, I even demanded to have the bedroom all by myself, and the baby. As long as my man is having this cold (and snores like I don't know what), I think it's in order for him to sleep in the guestroom. Either that, or I'll have to punch him several times at night, and that I really don't want to do. Nor do I want to get frustrated and angry at him over this. Completely unnecessary if we can avoid it.
I can really recommend you all to make a list like this, I think it helps most of the time.
Make room for columns marked Problem, Cause and Solution. Just try for a while, Hope it works as good for you as it does for me.
söndag
A really beautiful week
This week my kids have had a week off from school, called sports break. For over a year now we have talked about travelling up north, to the snowy mountains and ski for a couple of days, and now we finally did.
My oldest stayed at come though, infected toes, tired after everything in school (it's been a whole lot for him this year since it's his final year at senior and all), so he badly needed to be just by himself for some days. Hard for me not to have my whole family gathered, but I have to let him choose what's best for him without interfering. And when we came back home, he was really relaxed and happy. So... it was right not to force him, although I felt like I was kind of a bad mom for letting him stay at home all by himself. "Cut the cord mooom!"
For myself, I can only say that I (regardless my kids and husband) needed the change more than I could ever imagine. Blessed be my mother in law who took care of our youngest while we went skiing every day.
She and her husband also went with us up north. Although I can be a bit grumpy if not left alone, I really love these two. Truly they are the best parents in law one could have. Always there, always helpful, caring, no arguing ever (not with us or by them self), calm, down to earth.. Simply the best there is!
I've had troubles trusting them, but that's on my table, not theirs. I have troubles trusting almost anyone, but these last years I think I'm learning that some people can be nice and true and, above all, to be counted on for sure.
I always draw parallels to my own parents when I meet my friends (or earlier partners) parents. It hurts a whole lot not to have the unconditional love that I see others getting from their mothers and fathers. It hurts to see how they talk and act around each other, how they trust, laugh, and relax in each others company. But the pain is softening up a bit, even if its a slow process.
Earlier, I had quite big troubles handling this life that I saw others share. Without wanting it, I could get overwhelming feelings of hatred or just feelings of a black hole in my heart. I could actually even get sick to my stomach when my friends hugged their mothers.
Earlier on, if I could, I chose to avoid these situations just to keep some of the love for my friends intact. As I said, I couldn't control the hatred, it even made me prefer loneliness most times to be honest. But I've worked hard on that part as well. Now, I can accept that others really love their moms, without me getting hysterically sad or angry. It might sound crazy to have those feelings, but if you always feel ashamed (shame is one dangerous feeling), neglected and hated, that's the way it goes sometimes..
It is a big step for me, both to put fear aside and trust, and not less to let others like and care for me as well.
The thing is, I kind of have to trust at least my husbands family. I made a promise to myself when we became serious that I would try force my stubborn guard down, but still not lay flat and let myself be treaded on. A very thin string to balance on, that one. But I'm slowly getting there!
So. Tired legs, deep thoughts, a suntan á la cliffhanger, a calmer, stronger soul and a couple of bruises will summon up a really nice week. <3
My oldest stayed at come though, infected toes, tired after everything in school (it's been a whole lot for him this year since it's his final year at senior and all), so he badly needed to be just by himself for some days. Hard for me not to have my whole family gathered, but I have to let him choose what's best for him without interfering. And when we came back home, he was really relaxed and happy. So... it was right not to force him, although I felt like I was kind of a bad mom for letting him stay at home all by himself. "Cut the cord mooom!"
For myself, I can only say that I (regardless my kids and husband) needed the change more than I could ever imagine. Blessed be my mother in law who took care of our youngest while we went skiing every day.
She and her husband also went with us up north. Although I can be a bit grumpy if not left alone, I really love these two. Truly they are the best parents in law one could have. Always there, always helpful, caring, no arguing ever (not with us or by them self), calm, down to earth.. Simply the best there is!
I've had troubles trusting them, but that's on my table, not theirs. I have troubles trusting almost anyone, but these last years I think I'm learning that some people can be nice and true and, above all, to be counted on for sure.
I always draw parallels to my own parents when I meet my friends (or earlier partners) parents. It hurts a whole lot not to have the unconditional love that I see others getting from their mothers and fathers. It hurts to see how they talk and act around each other, how they trust, laugh, and relax in each others company. But the pain is softening up a bit, even if its a slow process.
Earlier, I had quite big troubles handling this life that I saw others share. Without wanting it, I could get overwhelming feelings of hatred or just feelings of a black hole in my heart. I could actually even get sick to my stomach when my friends hugged their mothers.
Earlier on, if I could, I chose to avoid these situations just to keep some of the love for my friends intact. As I said, I couldn't control the hatred, it even made me prefer loneliness most times to be honest. But I've worked hard on that part as well. Now, I can accept that others really love their moms, without me getting hysterically sad or angry. It might sound crazy to have those feelings, but if you always feel ashamed (shame is one dangerous feeling), neglected and hated, that's the way it goes sometimes..
It is a big step for me, both to put fear aside and trust, and not less to let others like and care for me as well.
The thing is, I kind of have to trust at least my husbands family. I made a promise to myself when we became serious that I would try force my stubborn guard down, but still not lay flat and let myself be treaded on. A very thin string to balance on, that one. But I'm slowly getting there!
So. Tired legs, deep thoughts, a suntan á la cliffhanger, a calmer, stronger soul and a couple of bruises will summon up a really nice week. <3
onsdag
Narcissistic mothers - just put them on a distant island please
Last time I wrote here, my journey back to work through a rehabteam was about to take off.
Well. Not surprisingly, it's going to take some time. Not in the way I expected, but due to failure of the rehabs computersystem. They have a heavy bug in the system, and I'm one of all who can't get my case started because of this.
It's not really the biggest deal, could be far worse of course. But I so wanted to get started! Now I'll just have to be patience for yet another week.
Meanwhile I read and write if time's given. A week ago a friend of mine sent me this book called "You're not crazy, it's your mother". http://www.daughtersofnarcissisticmothers.com/youre-not-crazy-book/
Without hesitation, this book have saved me in so many ways. Of course a lot of my 3-year long therapy has helped me see this thing about my childhood (and sc mother) clearly, but this book summons up just about all of it. And - it gives tools and terms that puts it all in place.
Just to get to read that you are not alone, not the only one with a narcissistic mother, and that it exists a actual word for her condition, imagine the tears I shed while reading! I'm just sad I didn't get to read this book sooner in life!
And the author writes really well according to me. Easy to understand, easy to relate to, easy to take to your heart, honest and clear. Go ahead and read it!
One of the things that I have to struggle with because of the traumas (traumas is actually a weak word compared to what really took place) through my childhood and teenage years is something called dissociation syndrome. More about that here for those of you who want to read a bit about it.
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dissociation_(psychology)
Being cut of from your feelings isn't functional at all, even if it's saved my sanity through all this.
And now, working so hard to be able to feel properly again, is really tiring, but its also worth every moment of suffering and agony.
As I said earlier - my psychodynamic therapy has helped me heal a lot, but some days I struggle more than hard to get my mind around all that's happened and where I ended up because of it. There are still days that I actually strongly believe in (and hear in my ears) my mothers words "You are retarded, you're never going to be normal like your sisters. Shame on you, why must you put me through this??"
It took me about twenty years to understand that I am completely not-retarded, that I actually am pretty smart. When I did the big psychiatric evaluation on personality disorders etc, the only thing they did find was my 'repeated depressions caused by childhood traumas', and the fact that I'm above normal in IQ. Actually, far over the limit. So that too helped me realize that I am not stupid. Bam!
One of the thoughts my therapist has repeated many times over is "If your mother thought that you actually was retarded or mentally ill, why didn't she seek help? Why did she treat you the way she did?"
And that is a really good question.
One of the answers is revealed in the term Narcissistic parents. Yes.
Because as long as my mother had this strange, wicked child, all lights were on her. On her as a struggling, desperate, caring mother. An oh the attention she could seek from having this troubled child! She could talk for hours and hours about how she could help me, what roads she had to go down to keep herself together. That her daughter were scared to life and badly beaten and sexually abused for many years, she didn't mention. Of course. Go figure...
Once again, if any of this rings a bell in your soul, please read more about this kind of sick parents.
//Love and strength to all you brave warriors out there!
Well. Not surprisingly, it's going to take some time. Not in the way I expected, but due to failure of the rehabs computersystem. They have a heavy bug in the system, and I'm one of all who can't get my case started because of this.
It's not really the biggest deal, could be far worse of course. But I so wanted to get started! Now I'll just have to be patience for yet another week.
Meanwhile I read and write if time's given. A week ago a friend of mine sent me this book called "You're not crazy, it's your mother". http://www.daughtersofnarcissisticmothers.com/youre-not-crazy-book/
Without hesitation, this book have saved me in so many ways. Of course a lot of my 3-year long therapy has helped me see this thing about my childhood (and sc mother) clearly, but this book summons up just about all of it. And - it gives tools and terms that puts it all in place.
Just to get to read that you are not alone, not the only one with a narcissistic mother, and that it exists a actual word for her condition, imagine the tears I shed while reading! I'm just sad I didn't get to read this book sooner in life!
And the author writes really well according to me. Easy to understand, easy to relate to, easy to take to your heart, honest and clear. Go ahead and read it!
One of the things that I have to struggle with because of the traumas (traumas is actually a weak word compared to what really took place) through my childhood and teenage years is something called dissociation syndrome. More about that here for those of you who want to read a bit about it.
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dissociation_(psychology)
Being cut of from your feelings isn't functional at all, even if it's saved my sanity through all this.
And now, working so hard to be able to feel properly again, is really tiring, but its also worth every moment of suffering and agony.
As I said earlier - my psychodynamic therapy has helped me heal a lot, but some days I struggle more than hard to get my mind around all that's happened and where I ended up because of it. There are still days that I actually strongly believe in (and hear in my ears) my mothers words "You are retarded, you're never going to be normal like your sisters. Shame on you, why must you put me through this??"
It took me about twenty years to understand that I am completely not-retarded, that I actually am pretty smart. When I did the big psychiatric evaluation on personality disorders etc, the only thing they did find was my 'repeated depressions caused by childhood traumas', and the fact that I'm above normal in IQ. Actually, far over the limit. So that too helped me realize that I am not stupid. Bam!
One of the thoughts my therapist has repeated many times over is "If your mother thought that you actually was retarded or mentally ill, why didn't she seek help? Why did she treat you the way she did?"
And that is a really good question.
One of the answers is revealed in the term Narcissistic parents. Yes.
Because as long as my mother had this strange, wicked child, all lights were on her. On her as a struggling, desperate, caring mother. An oh the attention she could seek from having this troubled child! She could talk for hours and hours about how she could help me, what roads she had to go down to keep herself together. That her daughter were scared to life and badly beaten and sexually abused for many years, she didn't mention. Of course. Go figure...
Once again, if any of this rings a bell in your soul, please read more about this kind of sick parents.
//Love and strength to all you brave warriors out there!
tisdag
Rehabilitation all set
Sorry for my absence these last weeks. I'll have to blame a nasty mancold (yes, women can have those too). But now I'm back to my self again, yei to that!
So. What's happening in my life at the moment?
A.....lot!
I finally got my cooperation all set and ready to go with a rehabilitationteam. Isn't that great? And what's even better - I got the absolutely sweetest lady to be in charge of my progress, and we have now worked out a lighter plan for me getting back to work (and in time - a normal life). She is very sound and has a good, sober way in looking at life, she has been burnt out herself, so she really knows what that's like too, and she has a son with certain disabilities, so she gets that part as well.
Although it's hard for me to trust others, I'm slowly getting my hopes up here. And it feels so good. On top of that, my economic situation is being taken cared of by another man at this rehabteam. (No, I'm not going to be wealthy by this, but at least I can pay my bills properly, as long as I take good care of and plan my financial situation well).
At the end of this week I'm going to have yet another meeting with the nice lady, and then they are going to send me to a doctor for an examination, just to get some of my conditions checked up properly one more time. Let's just really, reeeally hope they have a good, understanding, not ignorant doctor on board....
Of course I understand that rehab is going to take time for me, maybe even up to three years they said. But at least I'm on my way. And I'm actually going to allow myself to feel good about this! Even if it's just for now.
So. What's happening in my life at the moment?
A.....lot!
I finally got my cooperation all set and ready to go with a rehabilitationteam. Isn't that great? And what's even better - I got the absolutely sweetest lady to be in charge of my progress, and we have now worked out a lighter plan for me getting back to work (and in time - a normal life). She is very sound and has a good, sober way in looking at life, she has been burnt out herself, so she really knows what that's like too, and she has a son with certain disabilities, so she gets that part as well.
Although it's hard for me to trust others, I'm slowly getting my hopes up here. And it feels so good. On top of that, my economic situation is being taken cared of by another man at this rehabteam. (No, I'm not going to be wealthy by this, but at least I can pay my bills properly, as long as I take good care of and plan my financial situation well).
At the end of this week I'm going to have yet another meeting with the nice lady, and then they are going to send me to a doctor for an examination, just to get some of my conditions checked up properly one more time. Let's just really, reeeally hope they have a good, understanding, not ignorant doctor on board....
Of course I understand that rehab is going to take time for me, maybe even up to three years they said. But at least I'm on my way. And I'm actually going to allow myself to feel good about this! Even if it's just for now.
fredag
I'm choosing to be pissed off
Not a choise I would recommend on a Friday, the beginning of the weekend. One should be at least slightly happy, but no, I'm really mad and stressed out.
Our street's got a big leak, so we have no water, haven't had in a day. No washing neither the baby's bottles, hands, no nothing.
And that's when you realize how lucky and comfortable we really are in this land.
But still pissed off for other reasons as well. I'm taking a few days off this blog for now, and get back when I have other words than these nastyness to write.
See ya!
Our street's got a big leak, so we have no water, haven't had in a day. No washing neither the baby's bottles, hands, no nothing.
And that's when you realize how lucky and comfortable we really are in this land.
But still pissed off for other reasons as well. I'm taking a few days off this blog for now, and get back when I have other words than these nastyness to write.
See ya!
tisdag
Back on track, sort of...
The emotional chaos have calmed down a bit now, thank you Lord (or whomever in charge of things).
My husband (and I) have talked this disappointment through as much as an aspie of his kind can express things in words. (I have to be really careful not to "speak over him", which can be easy to do when it takes him a minimum of ap 20 minutes to just answer a daily, simple question...)
He finally came around, and is now seeking other occupations, I'm so proud of him! Of course it still hurts like hell for him, but he's back in the game again. Hopefully something will come up that suits his skills just fine.
What's more on the board today...?
Oh. I made a call to the head of the newspaper that wrote this article about me and heavy painkillers. It turned out this lady who made the article didn't have permission at all to throw this minimovie of me speaking about suicide out on the internet.
Stupid and too naive for my own good, I thought I had no right to complain about all that, but as the days went by I got more and more angry of her.
Who was she to lie in my face about not filming, who was she to publish this on the freaking net without me even knowing of it??
So. I made a call to her boss (aka The Boss) and just asked a bit politely if this was allowed, and if this was the way they did things at this newspaper if his. I told him about how my teens felt after seeing their mom saying out loud that she had planned (and set a date) to commit suicide (even if that's not the case now, four years later), especially since they lost their father that way. This boss went bananas, berserk and yelled preeeetty much. The woman who wrote about me (her writing was ok though I told him) is not going to be able to pull a trick like this again, we can just leave it to that. Ha!
For once I stood up for myself. For once I didn't allow someone else to push me around and to get away with a lousy behavior that I had to suffer over.
High five to me!
-The Right To React
My husband (and I) have talked this disappointment through as much as an aspie of his kind can express things in words. (I have to be really careful not to "speak over him", which can be easy to do when it takes him a minimum of ap 20 minutes to just answer a daily, simple question...)
He finally came around, and is now seeking other occupations, I'm so proud of him! Of course it still hurts like hell for him, but he's back in the game again. Hopefully something will come up that suits his skills just fine.
What's more on the board today...?
Oh. I made a call to the head of the newspaper that wrote this article about me and heavy painkillers. It turned out this lady who made the article didn't have permission at all to throw this minimovie of me speaking about suicide out on the internet.
Stupid and too naive for my own good, I thought I had no right to complain about all that, but as the days went by I got more and more angry of her.
Who was she to lie in my face about not filming, who was she to publish this on the freaking net without me even knowing of it??
So. I made a call to her boss (aka The Boss) and just asked a bit politely if this was allowed, and if this was the way they did things at this newspaper if his. I told him about how my teens felt after seeing their mom saying out loud that she had planned (and set a date) to commit suicide (even if that's not the case now, four years later), especially since they lost their father that way. This boss went bananas, berserk and yelled preeeetty much. The woman who wrote about me (her writing was ok though I told him) is not going to be able to pull a trick like this again, we can just leave it to that. Ha!
For once I stood up for myself. For once I didn't allow someone else to push me around and to get away with a lousy behavior that I had to suffer over.
High five to me!
-The Right To React
lördag
Rough days, asperger diagnosis
This week has not been easy. First of all, my husband got diagnosis aspergers syndrome, or as the psychiatrist said "You are clearly autistic, but the level you're at, we call it HFA".
HFA is a high functioning autistic. That means that he is within the numbers of the scale that shows if a person is on the autism spectra, but that he is functioning well measured to our society's standards.
The short version:
I have suspected this for two years (we've been together 2,5 years). Or, to be honest, I did more than suspected it, I kind of knew somewhere, for sure.
During my last pregnancy (his first time being a father), he acted so strange. I just couldn't figure out if he was not happy about the baby (but he bought all these baby stuff, even imported toys and clothing etc), or if he was afraid to feel (in case things didn't end well with our son), or if he just hated me and the fact that I became unexpectedly pregnant. It was the last thing I felt most sure about, because he didn't respond to the babys movements in my belly, he didn't speak to me or asked about how I was (it was a tough pregnancy on top of all the other shit), he ignored me totally when we were around others (exept for when we met with his family, then he always held my hand and sat close to me). To make a long story short- he seemed to be a complete asshole.
As time went by, and we moved in together, I started noticing strange behavior patterns. He always seemed to do the same stuff in a very precise order that couldn't be interrupted, he struggled with finding answers when we talked (he actually struggled for usually over an hour, sometimes longer, even in the smallest daily conversations, then he might answer - but very often the answer never came), he made strange noises and had tics..
So, chitchatting never happened in our home, silence always happened, to put it nicely.
This thing with heavy delayed answers and problems to take initiatives to actually take action even to the smallest things is a big trouble in his life, but he has always thought he's just lazy or clueless.
Well, however. That's when I realized he wasn't a jerk at all. He had been able to "hide" his behaviors fairly well for as long as we didn't live together, but now when we shared more than our office at work, it became harder and harder to hide.
My heart breaks for many reasons here. He must have struggled so unbelievably hard to behave "normal" around me (what now normal really is in our world?), he did know on some level that he had troubles and was different from others, and - I'm actually sorry for my self, for all the pain this has cost me.
Now, back to this week. He seemed to take the diagnosis quite ok. It was a very good psychiatrist who did this whole examination and all the tests. He came back from their latest meeting feeling relieved, saying that he finally had some kind of answer to why he'd felt like some kind of alien most of his life.
What broke him down completely was that he went to an interview about an important job at the marina some weeks ago. A job he really, really wanted, and he has more than the skills and education they asked for. He is very well educated, actually he's a captain and a really good administrative worker as well.
They got back to him just yesterday, after three long weeks of waiting, and told him that he didn't get this job. They told him that he had all the education right, but that he was too slow in answering them during the interview, and they need someone who can make fast decisions and act on these in the blink of an eye.
They even said that he was better off behind a computer than at the marina. You can imagine how he feels about hearing this...
Now he just sits, quiet, sad and refuses to do anything other than eat. He feels that he is heavy retarded and that everyone can see it. He's ashamed. And I'm completely clueless of what to do, how to help him. Can I even help? Please leave comments if you can come up with any advice.
HFA is a high functioning autistic. That means that he is within the numbers of the scale that shows if a person is on the autism spectra, but that he is functioning well measured to our society's standards.
The short version:
I have suspected this for two years (we've been together 2,5 years). Or, to be honest, I did more than suspected it, I kind of knew somewhere, for sure.
During my last pregnancy (his first time being a father), he acted so strange. I just couldn't figure out if he was not happy about the baby (but he bought all these baby stuff, even imported toys and clothing etc), or if he was afraid to feel (in case things didn't end well with our son), or if he just hated me and the fact that I became unexpectedly pregnant. It was the last thing I felt most sure about, because he didn't respond to the babys movements in my belly, he didn't speak to me or asked about how I was (it was a tough pregnancy on top of all the other shit), he ignored me totally when we were around others (exept for when we met with his family, then he always held my hand and sat close to me). To make a long story short- he seemed to be a complete asshole.
As time went by, and we moved in together, I started noticing strange behavior patterns. He always seemed to do the same stuff in a very precise order that couldn't be interrupted, he struggled with finding answers when we talked (he actually struggled for usually over an hour, sometimes longer, even in the smallest daily conversations, then he might answer - but very often the answer never came), he made strange noises and had tics..
So, chitchatting never happened in our home, silence always happened, to put it nicely.
This thing with heavy delayed answers and problems to take initiatives to actually take action even to the smallest things is a big trouble in his life, but he has always thought he's just lazy or clueless.
Well, however. That's when I realized he wasn't a jerk at all. He had been able to "hide" his behaviors fairly well for as long as we didn't live together, but now when we shared more than our office at work, it became harder and harder to hide.
My heart breaks for many reasons here. He must have struggled so unbelievably hard to behave "normal" around me (what now normal really is in our world?), he did know on some level that he had troubles and was different from others, and - I'm actually sorry for my self, for all the pain this has cost me.
Now, back to this week. He seemed to take the diagnosis quite ok. It was a very good psychiatrist who did this whole examination and all the tests. He came back from their latest meeting feeling relieved, saying that he finally had some kind of answer to why he'd felt like some kind of alien most of his life.
What broke him down completely was that he went to an interview about an important job at the marina some weeks ago. A job he really, really wanted, and he has more than the skills and education they asked for. He is very well educated, actually he's a captain and a really good administrative worker as well.
They got back to him just yesterday, after three long weeks of waiting, and told him that he didn't get this job. They told him that he had all the education right, but that he was too slow in answering them during the interview, and they need someone who can make fast decisions and act on these in the blink of an eye.
They even said that he was better off behind a computer than at the marina. You can imagine how he feels about hearing this...
Now he just sits, quiet, sad and refuses to do anything other than eat. He feels that he is heavy retarded and that everyone can see it. He's ashamed. And I'm completely clueless of what to do, how to help him. Can I even help? Please leave comments if you can come up with any advice.
torsdag
It's been awhile
For the past few weeks, I've been trying to get my medicines and feelings right and on track. Not too easy...
In with the Lamotrigin, out with the Serotonins, and this (according to docs orders) should happen -wapisch- in about four weeks. Yeik. But now I'm finally kind of free from Serotonins at least. Can't say it feels all that great though, but I think (carefully allowing myself to feel a tiny amount of hope here) that this might work out for me.
Unfortunately the arthritis is kicking my ass right now. I would have preferred it to be the other way around of course. When my body acts like this, I'm always a bit torn down. Feelings of worthlessness and frustration over that I can't move and be around everything like I so badly want to, is overwhelming.
One of the reasons I actually have been on the serrots for all these years is just that - a painful body that some days seem to make every effort to drag my limbs through hell.
I understand very well that some of my pain is psychosomatic, and a result of a abusive, rough childhood. My body has, during the first twelve years of my life, taking quite a heavy amount of being beaten up severely from time to time, and on top of that, the psychic abuse that actually were -and still is- the hardest thing to come to peace with now as a grown up.
Of course the body reacts to all that, I know. But nevertheless, my pain is very real for several reasons. One of the reasons is that my spine and neck is injured because my mother pushed me down the stairs as an eight year old girl. That left me bound to the bed for almost a month. A couple of years later she crashed our car in high speed, with me in the passenger seat. (Guess who she left in the car, not even looking at, nor helping to get out...)
The list can be long and cruel, but I don't have the energy and courage to get into that today.
I've often heard "Why didn't anyone report this abuse?" Anybody, my grannies or neighbors or just anyone. School?
Because she blamed it mostly on me. Saying that I just seeked attention by calling on pain and whining to the level that she gave up and let me have my way "as the good mother to a psychical ill child" she was. How warm hearted of her. Strange though that she didn't seek psychiatric help for this nerve-racking child of hers...?
As you notice, I'm angry about this, giving my childhood a lot of
though right now. Too bad one can't stop the thinking and feelings just like that.
My hope is that I might give someone (that neighbor or relatives or others) the courage to actually react and do something, even if you're just suspecting something's wrong, not having any real proof. You could save someone's childhood...
In with the Lamotrigin, out with the Serotonins, and this (according to docs orders) should happen -wapisch- in about four weeks. Yeik. But now I'm finally kind of free from Serotonins at least. Can't say it feels all that great though, but I think (carefully allowing myself to feel a tiny amount of hope here) that this might work out for me.
Unfortunately the arthritis is kicking my ass right now. I would have preferred it to be the other way around of course. When my body acts like this, I'm always a bit torn down. Feelings of worthlessness and frustration over that I can't move and be around everything like I so badly want to, is overwhelming.
One of the reasons I actually have been on the serrots for all these years is just that - a painful body that some days seem to make every effort to drag my limbs through hell.
I understand very well that some of my pain is psychosomatic, and a result of a abusive, rough childhood. My body has, during the first twelve years of my life, taking quite a heavy amount of being beaten up severely from time to time, and on top of that, the psychic abuse that actually were -and still is- the hardest thing to come to peace with now as a grown up.
Of course the body reacts to all that, I know. But nevertheless, my pain is very real for several reasons. One of the reasons is that my spine and neck is injured because my mother pushed me down the stairs as an eight year old girl. That left me bound to the bed for almost a month. A couple of years later she crashed our car in high speed, with me in the passenger seat. (Guess who she left in the car, not even looking at, nor helping to get out...)
The list can be long and cruel, but I don't have the energy and courage to get into that today.
I've often heard "Why didn't anyone report this abuse?" Anybody, my grannies or neighbors or just anyone. School?
Because she blamed it mostly on me. Saying that I just seeked attention by calling on pain and whining to the level that she gave up and let me have my way "as the good mother to a psychical ill child" she was. How warm hearted of her. Strange though that she didn't seek psychiatric help for this nerve-racking child of hers...?
As you notice, I'm angry about this, giving my childhood a lot of
though right now. Too bad one can't stop the thinking and feelings just like that.
My hope is that I might give someone (that neighbor or relatives or others) the courage to actually react and do something, even if you're just suspecting something's wrong, not having any real proof. You could save someone's childhood...
tisdag
New medicines
For a month ago (roughly), I got a new medicine. Since I'm agains all kind of pills - especially since me getting caught in eating too much painkillers a couple of years ago - it took me quite a while to accept the fact that my current antidepressives aren't doing the best for me anymore (if they ever had....)
Sure, serotonin can be helpful, one might need that sometimes as a crutch to hold on to when the sea is at storm, but you shouldn't solely depent on it. If you eat that stuff (like I did, for over ten years now), and you feel like a neutral veggie or your emotions still kicks you into a rollercoaster, you might need something else.
So, I took the big step of trying something completely new for me. And guess what? It works, and it works damn well too! I don't really care if it's placebo, as long as I feel like a human being again. And it has minimized my chronical pain as well (I'm diagnosed with arthritis and fibromyalgia). The pain is now softer, and more bearable.
I now have access to my feelings again, without the rollercoasterturns. Earlier, the inside of my head was a mess of thoughts, like a tornado. This caused great stress (with all the trouble that comes with living on the edge the whole time), and insomnia of course. Sure, I could focus on things, but if I'm honest, I had a tendency of running bananas like a armoured car here at home. I was so winded up around dinnertime that I had troubles just sitting down and enjoying a good meal with my family. And of course they all felt the stress too, no matter how I tried to hide it underneath my "happymommyface".
The medicine they gave me is a antiepelepticum, called Lamotrigin. I was really scared the first weeks, what if I would become even more active and stressed out? Or depressed and sad? Or completly bananas and out of control? The thoughts and fears were many, but now I just feel at ease over my decision.
Next week I'm taking out the serotonin (very slowly and careful), hold a thumb for me please. I have very little hopes of me being completely medicinfree this year though, but who knows?
Last but not least. The reason I dared changing meds is basically that I now have a good, solid doctor. Yes, he's really green at his job, sure, but I see him as competent (however a bit nervy and all over the place...) But he listens, comes with good points, and is always supportive in a nice way. Yei to him!
Sure, serotonin can be helpful, one might need that sometimes as a crutch to hold on to when the sea is at storm, but you shouldn't solely depent on it. If you eat that stuff (like I did, for over ten years now), and you feel like a neutral veggie or your emotions still kicks you into a rollercoaster, you might need something else.
So, I took the big step of trying something completely new for me. And guess what? It works, and it works damn well too! I don't really care if it's placebo, as long as I feel like a human being again. And it has minimized my chronical pain as well (I'm diagnosed with arthritis and fibromyalgia). The pain is now softer, and more bearable.
I now have access to my feelings again, without the rollercoasterturns. Earlier, the inside of my head was a mess of thoughts, like a tornado. This caused great stress (with all the trouble that comes with living on the edge the whole time), and insomnia of course. Sure, I could focus on things, but if I'm honest, I had a tendency of running bananas like a armoured car here at home. I was so winded up around dinnertime that I had troubles just sitting down and enjoying a good meal with my family. And of course they all felt the stress too, no matter how I tried to hide it underneath my "happymommyface".
The medicine they gave me is a antiepelepticum, called Lamotrigin. I was really scared the first weeks, what if I would become even more active and stressed out? Or depressed and sad? Or completly bananas and out of control? The thoughts and fears were many, but now I just feel at ease over my decision.
Next week I'm taking out the serotonin (very slowly and careful), hold a thumb for me please. I have very little hopes of me being completely medicinfree this year though, but who knows?
Last but not least. The reason I dared changing meds is basically that I now have a good, solid doctor. Yes, he's really green at his job, sure, but I see him as competent (however a bit nervy and all over the place...) But he listens, comes with good points, and is always supportive in a nice way. Yei to him!
torsdag
Going public, hello brown paperbag over my head
Dear lord almighty..
Now I've read the article our local newspaper wrote about me. Above that, I've also watched the video that was posted on the internet along with this article.
Guess it was kind of good, but....
1- The reporter never told me she was filming me. She had this camera beside her "just for the sound, it can be good to have". Right there I should have suspected something, but no, I didn't (blueeyes inside and out, yes). So, shoot me for being naive.
2- The headline was a bit too much, I almost fell of my unicorn as I read it...... She didn't tell me about that either. It said "Ambers double life, living with heavy anxiety and hiding her drug abuse".
Thank you lady, that'll be great for my kids (and all their friends) to read. Shoot me again please.
The good thing is that this article (actually a series of articles that's been running for months now) is about how the doctors tend to give prescriptions for heavy drugs without following the patient further on. Too often they give you a "bigpack" containing a minimum of three months usage. Great. If you're addicted. Wich I became. And got out of.
I think it's really good that they drag this out into the open, not a day too late!
I have lived with the thought of me being a not-so-shabby-addict. This headline forced me to see the truth, indeed I was a drug addict back then. In fact, I mixed sleeping pills, morphine and vodka at the end, several times a day, before I finally came around to my senses and became myself again.
I will come to that later too, in an other chapter. Nothing I'm proud of, of course. But getting sober and clean all by my self, guess I can give myself a big pat on the back for that one at least.
Now I've been out of the fog for three years. The struggle continues, but I feel stronger and more calm than ever before. Hurray for that!
As I watched this video of hers, I noticed one other thing. I am not ugly. Not at all in fact. And I dont sound weird when I talk.
That was a surprise!
For all my life I've avoided cameras and all that as much as possible (not easy now in 2016 ...). I've been raised told that I'm too ugly for my mother to even speak to or look at. And I guess I believed her, never questioned it at least.
For these three sober years (and mainly since I got into psykodynamic therapy) I've had the guts to question if I'm really that bad, that ugly, that nasty, that nothing-to-be-proud-of, yadda yadda. At my heaviest days, I've even had troubles going outdoors, avoiding people and all that. But now I really see that this is just an ugly illusion, I'm good enough.
So. The article gave me a lot of good shit in the end. But. I still refuse to go out without my brown paper bag!
Now I've read the article our local newspaper wrote about me. Above that, I've also watched the video that was posted on the internet along with this article.
Guess it was kind of good, but....
1- The reporter never told me she was filming me. She had this camera beside her "just for the sound, it can be good to have". Right there I should have suspected something, but no, I didn't (blueeyes inside and out, yes). So, shoot me for being naive.
2- The headline was a bit too much, I almost fell of my unicorn as I read it...... She didn't tell me about that either. It said "Ambers double life, living with heavy anxiety and hiding her drug abuse".
Thank you lady, that'll be great for my kids (and all their friends) to read. Shoot me again please.
The good thing is that this article (actually a series of articles that's been running for months now) is about how the doctors tend to give prescriptions for heavy drugs without following the patient further on. Too often they give you a "bigpack" containing a minimum of three months usage. Great. If you're addicted. Wich I became. And got out of.
I think it's really good that they drag this out into the open, not a day too late!
I have lived with the thought of me being a not-so-shabby-addict. This headline forced me to see the truth, indeed I was a drug addict back then. In fact, I mixed sleeping pills, morphine and vodka at the end, several times a day, before I finally came around to my senses and became myself again.
I will come to that later too, in an other chapter. Nothing I'm proud of, of course. But getting sober and clean all by my self, guess I can give myself a big pat on the back for that one at least.
Now I've been out of the fog for three years. The struggle continues, but I feel stronger and more calm than ever before. Hurray for that!
As I watched this video of hers, I noticed one other thing. I am not ugly. Not at all in fact. And I dont sound weird when I talk.
That was a surprise!
For all my life I've avoided cameras and all that as much as possible (not easy now in 2016 ...). I've been raised told that I'm too ugly for my mother to even speak to or look at. And I guess I believed her, never questioned it at least.
For these three sober years (and mainly since I got into psykodynamic therapy) I've had the guts to question if I'm really that bad, that ugly, that nasty, that nothing-to-be-proud-of, yadda yadda. At my heaviest days, I've even had troubles going outdoors, avoiding people and all that. But now I really see that this is just an ugly illusion, I'm good enough.
So. The article gave me a lot of good shit in the end. But. I still refuse to go out without my brown paper bag!
söndag
The wrong place at the wrong time
Today I was supposed to go to a meeting in my role as a friend to a man who is investigating his psychiatric conditions. My friend told me to be there (at the clinic) at three, and wait outside for the doctor to let me in (since it's Sunday and not on any ordinary schedule).
When I got there, I saw a friend of my moms standing there as well. We said hi, how are you and all the ordinary phrases. I was a bit withdrawn as I don't know if this woman has any contact with my mother at the moment. Normally, my moms so called friends never last that long. She grinds them down mentally, uses them for what ever purpose she has at the moment, and makes a big fuss when she gets tired of them being not so addicted to her anymore.
Long story short - she's rather good at making enemies (well earned...)
When I got in to the clinic, the doc told me he had actually booked an appointment by phone with me, and it was not this afternoon. I wasn't supposed to have come there. But since I came anyways, he welcomed me and we had our meeting.
When I was all done and stepped out in the hallway I saw the other woman waving at me down the corridor. "Come here a sec, will you?"
"Oh shit, here it comes agaaain" I thought. I'm used to hearing what a pity it is that I have turned my back at my mom, and how childish I am for holding grudges against the woman who got me into this world. Usually this is thrown at me by people who only know her vaguely, but it is hard to hear all this from time to time, it's so tiring to have to defend my choices.
But all she said to me was "If you're ever in doubt, believe this: You are so right not having any contact at all with that mother of yours. Oh the stories I could tell. Never, ever doubt, you did the right thing".
I almost broke down in tears by this surprising message.
There I was, at the wrong time, wrong place and everything, and I got this almost magical words said to me straight up. Just like that! It meant the world to me to hear her say that, believe me.
I'm a victim of childhood abuse. Mother broke my arm first time when I was two years old. The physical and mental abuse continued until I was sixteen and moved away from her. I have much to tell here, but that's a later issue.
Tonight I'm going to sleep all happy, comforted by this Sunday. And if I didn't believe in fortuity, well... Now I do!
When I got there, I saw a friend of my moms standing there as well. We said hi, how are you and all the ordinary phrases. I was a bit withdrawn as I don't know if this woman has any contact with my mother at the moment. Normally, my moms so called friends never last that long. She grinds them down mentally, uses them for what ever purpose she has at the moment, and makes a big fuss when she gets tired of them being not so addicted to her anymore.
Long story short - she's rather good at making enemies (well earned...)
When I got in to the clinic, the doc told me he had actually booked an appointment by phone with me, and it was not this afternoon. I wasn't supposed to have come there. But since I came anyways, he welcomed me and we had our meeting.
When I was all done and stepped out in the hallway I saw the other woman waving at me down the corridor. "Come here a sec, will you?"
"Oh shit, here it comes agaaain" I thought. I'm used to hearing what a pity it is that I have turned my back at my mom, and how childish I am for holding grudges against the woman who got me into this world. Usually this is thrown at me by people who only know her vaguely, but it is hard to hear all this from time to time, it's so tiring to have to defend my choices.
But all she said to me was "If you're ever in doubt, believe this: You are so right not having any contact at all with that mother of yours. Oh the stories I could tell. Never, ever doubt, you did the right thing".
I almost broke down in tears by this surprising message.
There I was, at the wrong time, wrong place and everything, and I got this almost magical words said to me straight up. Just like that! It meant the world to me to hear her say that, believe me.
I'm a victim of childhood abuse. Mother broke my arm first time when I was two years old. The physical and mental abuse continued until I was sixteen and moved away from her. I have much to tell here, but that's a later issue.
Tonight I'm going to sleep all happy, comforted by this Sunday. And if I didn't believe in fortuity, well... Now I do!
måndag
Interview tomorrow
Tomorrow it's finally time for my long wanted interview in our local newspaper. For a while now, there has been a hot storyline of how the doctors prescribe heavy medicins for people without knowing their full health condition (and how easy it really is to get those heavy substances without being physically investigated at all), and how many patients either get even sicker or/and get stuck in the deep swamp of drug abuse because of this. Terrible if you ask me, so it's really good that this shit has come out in the open finally.
Yes, it is a rather delicate, sensitive subject to many. Speaking up in public about health conditions, how it is to be addicted to painkillers, psychiatric illnesses, and not least criticize our golden doctors (no one is going to admit me as their patient from now on, because I do have a lot to tell here) etc etc...
Well. We live in a smaller town. People tend to gossip - a lot. If the newspapers say so, then it surely must be true!
In this town you are what you always were, never forgiven, never given second chances. Funny how that goes until one of the "good guys" take a shit in the wrong jar....
I've been on both sides. I've been the critical eye, I've been the fallen golden girl, I've taken the sides of all the wrong people, and I've fought and been the voice for the not so strong. I can be a pain in the ass with my honesty, and I'm quite fearless to the great gossipers in this community.
The trouble with me is that I have no problems speaking up in public at all (which sometimes gave me a feeling of never wanting to go outside without a brown paper bag over my face, but I've survived that too).
Yes, sometimes people get a bit offended or even hurt, but I have never said a mean word to anyone that doesn't deserve it, honestly. And I've rarely criticized anyone's personal sides as much as their actions.
So. Hold a thumb for me folks, may I choose the right words this time too.
Yes, it is a rather delicate, sensitive subject to many. Speaking up in public about health conditions, how it is to be addicted to painkillers, psychiatric illnesses, and not least criticize our golden doctors (no one is going to admit me as their patient from now on, because I do have a lot to tell here) etc etc...
Well. We live in a smaller town. People tend to gossip - a lot. If the newspapers say so, then it surely must be true!
In this town you are what you always were, never forgiven, never given second chances. Funny how that goes until one of the "good guys" take a shit in the wrong jar....
I've been on both sides. I've been the critical eye, I've been the fallen golden girl, I've taken the sides of all the wrong people, and I've fought and been the voice for the not so strong. I can be a pain in the ass with my honesty, and I'm quite fearless to the great gossipers in this community.
The trouble with me is that I have no problems speaking up in public at all (which sometimes gave me a feeling of never wanting to go outside without a brown paper bag over my face, but I've survived that too).
Yes, sometimes people get a bit offended or even hurt, but I have never said a mean word to anyone that doesn't deserve it, honestly. And I've rarely criticized anyone's personal sides as much as their actions.
So. Hold a thumb for me folks, may I choose the right words this time too.
fredag
The ugly wall
Hi.
I'm new here, but not new to writing blogs actually. This might be my seventh blog (I think, probably I've forgotten about some oldies I wrote years ago..), but this is a whole different one.
Earlier, I tried to fit in. I tried to write that "oh look how happy my life is, look at my healthy eating, my time at the gym", yadda yadda, well - you get it?
I didn't want anyone (or mainly myself) see how things really were, deep under the surface. Couldn't admit that I was one constantly unhappy, depressed, pillpopping, angry puppy, no way. That was not how I wanted to see myself at all.
A short background (yes, this actually is the very short version):
Had my first severe depression when I was around nine years old. Grew up with a pretty unstable mother (I get to that later on), and a stone cold father. Two adorable, younger sisters, not so many friends, and grandparents who had no troubles both being there for me, but partly ruled the whole family by giving us a guilty conscious to get their will through.
Moved to my father (in another town) in my teens, hoped for stability and a better life.
Moved to my own apartment at age sixteen, got through school with low grades (but I did it), and started working right the day after I graduated.
Moved back to my hometown at age twenty, got two lovely sons during the next three years, worked, studied, worked a bit more and started my own company at age twenty seven.
Twelve years later, I was both married, divorced, had my third son, got divorced again, and finally I hit the big, hard wall with the speed of lightning it self. Had to shamefully leave my beloved business to my colleague, and just crawl away and hide from everything but my children. Total breakdown, both physically and mentally.
How could this be? Strangely this came as a heavy, ugly surprise to me, I was totally unaware of the life I lived.
That breakdown is now four years ago. And that's where my story, my life, really started.
By building a new ground, a firm, solid one this time, I slowly began (and still is btw) to take my life back, I began to make choices based on what I needed, what my soul needed.
I'll try to get you all a good, fair view of how a sad soul actually can heal, hopefully I can help someone out or at least point you in the right direction <3
I'm new here, but not new to writing blogs actually. This might be my seventh blog (I think, probably I've forgotten about some oldies I wrote years ago..), but this is a whole different one.
Earlier, I tried to fit in. I tried to write that "oh look how happy my life is, look at my healthy eating, my time at the gym", yadda yadda, well - you get it?
I didn't want anyone (or mainly myself) see how things really were, deep under the surface. Couldn't admit that I was one constantly unhappy, depressed, pillpopping, angry puppy, no way. That was not how I wanted to see myself at all.
A short background (yes, this actually is the very short version):
Had my first severe depression when I was around nine years old. Grew up with a pretty unstable mother (I get to that later on), and a stone cold father. Two adorable, younger sisters, not so many friends, and grandparents who had no troubles both being there for me, but partly ruled the whole family by giving us a guilty conscious to get their will through.
Moved to my father (in another town) in my teens, hoped for stability and a better life.
Moved to my own apartment at age sixteen, got through school with low grades (but I did it), and started working right the day after I graduated.
Moved back to my hometown at age twenty, got two lovely sons during the next three years, worked, studied, worked a bit more and started my own company at age twenty seven.
Twelve years later, I was both married, divorced, had my third son, got divorced again, and finally I hit the big, hard wall with the speed of lightning it self. Had to shamefully leave my beloved business to my colleague, and just crawl away and hide from everything but my children. Total breakdown, both physically and mentally.
How could this be? Strangely this came as a heavy, ugly surprise to me, I was totally unaware of the life I lived.
That breakdown is now four years ago. And that's where my story, my life, really started.
By building a new ground, a firm, solid one this time, I slowly began (and still is btw) to take my life back, I began to make choices based on what I needed, what my soul needed.
I'll try to get you all a good, fair view of how a sad soul actually can heal, hopefully I can help someone out or at least point you in the right direction <3
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