Question of the day.

Hi guys. πŸ™‚

Here’s another question I have for you.

Who was the first non-relative you said “I live you” to?

My answer:

Emmmm. Misha? πŸ˜€ … I don’t know! I’m not one for saying that too often and to just anyone, the more that it’s such an overrated phrase nowadays as if just plain saying “I love you” really meant something in the grand scheme of things. And I’m generally not too good at expressing my emotions, it’s quite a problem for me still. Also, I’ve never been in a romantic relationship, so I’ve never had a chance to use it in that context. That doesn’t mean of course that I haven’t loved anyone who wouldn’t be my relative, but, as far as I can remember anyway, I simply never told them that, for different reasons, usually just because it makes you vulnerable. I’ve had friends who would tell me in this or that way that they love me, like you love a friend, and then I’d say the same if I did love them like that too, but I don’t think I’ve ever said “I love you” as such to anyone other than my family and Mishmish, who is also my family, so doesn’t count here separately of course.

How about you? πŸ™‚

Working On Us.

It’s week #4 of Working On Us at

Beckie’s Mental Mess

and I’m very happy to participate in this prompts series for the second time. Last week, I was answering the questions for prompt #1, but this time, I found prompt #2 really relatable. It’s a photo prompt, so I couldn’t actually see it, but Beckie described it and the image of a brain inside of a bird cage really spoke to me. I suppose I should include the photo in my post somehow, but since I have no clue how to do it, and am blind, so don’t need to have a clue about pics haha, I’ll just leave it as it is.

I was thinking about that prompt a lot last evening and thought I would make some piece of creative writing but since I don’t feel very creative at the moment it’ll just be a bit of a ramble.

I’ve been fascinated by brain for years, and it’s one of my main interests. But it’s not only that why I found this prompt so relatable. I could say I often feel as if my brain was locked in a bird cage, and unable to get out, just never thought about such a metaphor before. What does it feel like when your brain is locked in a brain cage? For me, among other things, it means difficulty in releasing emotions, there’s no way to get them out, whether you want it or not. Your brain fills up until it’s all full and all the feelings are one big mishmash, so that sometimes you don’t even know what you feel any longer. Things get mixed up, until finally the brain can’t contain anymore, and things start to leak out. But instead of leaking outside in a proper way, instead of being expressed, they spill all over the cage. It’s flooded with stuff that can’t be released otherwise, and the brain is swimming in all the intense feelings. That’s when overload happens, and I start feeling a lot of intense anger that gets turned inwards, so I feel like self-harming. Sometimes, when the flood is really strong, something will spill outside through the grating, but the cage is tall and thick so it’s really hard. The only way for me to get my brain out of that cage is writing. Then, the bird cage opens and it can fly out and feel more free.

Another thing that a bird cage makes me think of in the context of my brain, is the feeling of alienation, or feeling disconnected, or loneliness in the crowd, inadequacy, or however you want to call it. I like being different, and individualistic, and I like being on my own more than around other people most of the time and feel more comfy with it. But when it becomes a bird cage for my brain is when I do need to be with someone, but for whatever reason can’t make a connection with people. Sometimes it’s like you can see other people from there, but there’s no way of communicating effectively. You can only bang on the cage and hope that they will hear you, but even if they will, they usually won’t be able to help you out, or open the cage, or get close enough that you could communicate, or feel the way you feel. Even if they do get to you, you’ve been living in this cage for so long that you can’t even explain to them what it’s like, and what you need, and they won’t understand, because they live out there in the world which is so very different. So after a couple trials, you just sit in the corner of your cage and look out, watching people come and go. Sometimes they’ll glance in your direction in confusion, not understanding why you are the way you are and live in a bird cage, what’s wrong with your brain that you constantly keep it in there. As if it was your choice. Sometimes you might feel desperate, and try to jump over the cage, but that hardly ever ends up well and is risky, you can easily get hurt. Even if you do get out of there in one piece, you quickly realise that you don’t fit in, and lots of consequences come with it. And after so many years of living in a cage your brain just doesn’t know otherwise and has it hard to adjust and be just like any other brain living in the outside world. So after all, you put your brain back into the cage, voluntarily this time, ’cause a familiar enemy is worse than the one you don’t know anything about and don’t know how to deal with.

That’s the way my brain feels sometimes. Well, regularly. Again, writing, for myself or with/to others, is something that helps, to some degree, especially blogging and penpalling is what I’m thinking of.

Also, I think the bird cage analogy works very well in regards to my sleep paralysis experiences too. It feels like my brain and me are locked up in a bird cage with all my dream monsters. I can see the outside world but they don’t see me, and I can’t run away because my dream “friends” are all over me. The only thing I can do is wait for the dream cage to open and flee as soon as possible.

What’s a bird cage of your brain? How does it look like and what does it represent? πŸ™‚

Astrid S. – “Think Before I Talk”.

Hey people! πŸ™‚

The song I have for you today is from one of my recently most favourite pop Norwegian singers, Astrid Smeplass, known mostly as Astrid S, who is a pretty successful singer in Norway but also abroad as it seems. And since I heard this song for the first time last year it just got stuck in my brain, and I still like it quite a lot.

Remembering… or how to tell your brain it’s over?

I’m remembering

a lot of stuff from the past lately. Lots and lots of memories which I try to ignore, and sometimes I succeed, sometimes not. So I thought maybe writing about it would help, if ignoring doesn’t work out too well. Those memories are mostly related to the beginning of the school year, which used to be an absolute nightmare for over a decade.

I see people from my family and others buying their kids things for school, I hear my Mum talking how she’s afraid of the next schol year for Zofijka, I notice time flying so quickly and September approaching, and each time I see any signs of the school year coming, I have to remind my brain, it’s not you now, it’s over. But it doesn’t listen for too long, and soon I get overflooded by another wave of memories.

I remember all those days and nights before I”d go back to the boarding school when I cut myself ’cause my pain and helplessness were too bad. I remember not being able to eat and sleep because of the anxiety. I remember the feelings of utter loneliness and not belonging anywhere, along with many other overwhelming feelings with which I couldn’t cope, but finally I always had to cope somehow, so I just bottled them up, feeling them rising inside of me with every second. I remember feeling very unsafe and rebelled that I had to leave everything that felt nice, familiar, everything and everyone that I loved, and how desperate I was to not do it. I felt guilty and weak because even though the situation was the same and obvious for so many years, that there was no alternative for me, I still couldn’t adjust to it. Well in a way I did, but the adjustment was only hiding what I felt so it wouldn’t bother anyone else, because well how long can it take you to accept something so obvious and inevitable that if you have special needs and need special education, you need to go to school where they can adjust things to you, and there aren’t many of such so most children have to be away from their families. For me that was an issue, and it looked like it was wrong.

Those feelings always accompanied me when I had to leave home and go to the boarding school, but when the school year was starting, they were particularly intense. Because the school year always meant changes. Changes that could often regard me more or less, but even if they were directly to do with me, it wasn’t a norm that I, or even any of my parents, were asked about our opinion, whether we agree on them or not, whether they’re acceptable. That was normal there. If you had a friend, who was also your roommate, with whom you lived for years, you got to know very well, you should be aware that when you come back to school next year, you may suddenly be informed that you two will no longer live together because… just because. And you could not only be moved to another room, but also to a completely different group. THis exact situation didn’t happen to me, only because I didn’t have real friends there, but it did to one of my classmates and she was just told to get over it, because it was necessary and such situations happen in life so she has to get used to it. I though changed my roommates very often too, and it was often very tough. And many other changes could await you there, hardly, if ever, nice.

So yeah, I was just sick of anxiety every year before the start of school year, and afterwards too.

But it’s now four years since I got out of there, and I am so happy about it, yet each time it’s close to September, my brain goes mad. Even this year, when I’m completely free of that freaky brain washing machine called education system. I even had a pretty yucky dream last night, I haven’t have this kind of memory dreams in a while, but that one was yucky and it took me quite a while to get back to the present after I woke up. Those dreams aren’t particularly scary, like creepy or something, but are just kinda made of my crappy memories so reliving them over and over definitely isn’t nice aND I wake up feeling nausious and stressed out.

As I wrote earlier today in Music Monday Care & Love post, I am trying to fill this week with various self care activities and other enjoyable things, and that helps me to stay in the present and focus on the positive, and there is much positive stuff going on in my life. Plus it helps me to not slip down again to that self-loathing hole, which is always very easy when I’m having memories. But it doesn’t stop my brain from going back to the past, often at least expected moments.

So I wonder, how do you make your brain know it’s over? It seems all so complicated.

 

Question of the day.

When was the last time you were moved to tears??

My answer:

Hard to say, as I told you a few times on this blog it’s not easy for me to be moved to tears, I may quite often feel at the verge or just be very moved but still not cry, first because still crying is an issue and second because I think that’s simply how I am. And even if I do cry, it’s rarely like fountains of tears, in opposite lots of people in my family on Mum’s side. πŸ˜€

So I guess the last time I was moved to tears was when I was reading “Battered, Broken, Healed” by Maggie Hartley – Maggie Hartley is a UK foster carer and in this book she describes the story of Jasmine who is an infant and as it turns out later on she was taken into care because her father was abusive. I cried when I was reading about her mum’s experiences, about her abusive relationship, and particularly about how her husband wouldn’t allow her to take care of Jasmine. It somehow moved me, I found it very weird because normally I don’t cry when hearing about people’s sad stories, or it has to be really really really tough or there has to be something that particularly speaks to me for any reason. I am not someone who particularly loves children in general, but I found that really sad, for whatever reason.

The last time I was moved and felt like I’m gonna cry and wanted to, but couldn’t, was when I was listening to my current crush Gwilym Bowen Rhys’s latest album a few days ago, and that’s not very weird, I often feel very moved listening to my crushes’ music, even if it’s not particularly sad, but just when it’s expressive and/or beautiful. I was listening to this album as a whole for third time, this time just to immerse in it, but it still speaks to me.

How about you? What was the thing that moved you so strongly? πŸ™‚


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Question of the day.

What was the last thing you got angry about?

My answer:

Seriously angry I was on 3rd July, I feel always a lot of anger when I feel overwhelmed with lots of feelings and so it was on that day, but I feel like I wasn’t angry about anything speciffic, just a lot of things together plus maybe some bottled up stuff from God knows when in the past.

Less angry I was yesterday, at my computer, or more exactly at my screen reader, which suddenly refused to work and then it turned out that my SAPI5 crashed, which led to pretty weird things happening and me not being able to use most of my speech synthesisers, which, if you use multiple languages regularly and alternately, also such that aren’t very popular, can be an issue.

How about you? πŸ™‚

Question of the day.

What is the last thing you cried about?

My answer:

Cried like cried or just felt like crying? I have issues with crying and with expressing emotions generally, so, although I’ve learned to cry, it’s still really hard to do for me and I am rarely able to really let my emotions out through crying. I can feel like crying, or like I would really really like to cry very often, but I don’t cry often at all. I guess the last time I cried was in May, after one of my finals, and then I literally cried all the way back home and even afterwards and couldn’t stop, it was all scary! But the last time I felt like crying was last week on Tuesday, and it was also in some part related to my finals. But generally I felt like crying because I was just overwhelmed by lots of emotions and triggered, but just couldn’t let it out in any way, or figure out what’s actually ging on inn my brain, I was also extremely angry at that time and when I feel angry I often feel on the verge of tears, just like my Mum. In most situations I am glad I am not an easy cryer, like many women in my family are, but sometimes I would really like to be able to relieve myself through tears but it just seems impossible nowadays after all those years of bottling things up.

How about you? πŸ™‚

Feeling better.

Yes. I am still depressed and sick of many things, but definitely not as overloaded with feelings and triggered as yesterday. I feel like I owe you some clarification of what exactly happened, so I’ll try to do my best, I hope it’ll also help me to see things even more clear, it may be a little lengthy though and I need to warn you I am talking a bit about suicide ideations later on.

Basically my Mum was really pressuring that I should rewrite the math exam, and that was how all the stuff has started for me. I feel like before I go into details, I should clarify that generally my Mum isn’t one of those poor parents who want their kids to meet their expectations and be perfect, absolutely not, that would be unfair to say she’s like this. I guess it was just hard for her to understand some things, and accept what happened. As I wrote you yesterday she knew before we got the results that I’m not gonna do it, that because of my always very shitty math results I’m only gonna take it once and think of it as a sort of try, not take it too seriously, like something of great life importance, as most people do. If it goes well, then brilliant. I’ll be happy, but if not, I’ll just let it go, because then I’ll know it’s just not for me. People say your finals are important to your further education/career in a way, and that’s true, but not for me. The things I really can picture myself doing in life, as a job, that I know I’d be happy doing, and that would be doable for me, knowing my physical and emotional limitations, would be something to do with languages or writing, most likely at home/online. I honestly can’t picture myself going to a traditional uni at the stage I am now, because I wouldn’t be able to commute on my own, I’d have to have someone driving me back and forth, my anxiety in big groups of people can be very intense and can make my functioning pretty shitty. This was also a partial reason why I finally chose to self-teach at home at my last school, the one I’ve graduated from in May. Also I just have no idea what could or should I study. I already speak a few languages and plan to learn more, but I can do it without going to any sort of school just fine, or even better, no one has to adjust to me and I don’t have to adjust to any class, just can learn what I want, when I want, at my own pace, which, honestly, I think is faster than people have on traditional courses, and my vocabulary is more extensive. I could study linguistics, or translation studies, but if I know a language, I can be a translator without them. Sure it’s better to have a paper attesting your knowledge, but nothing can proove it better than just myself, if, let’s say, I’d translate a book, and it’ll be written in a good language and well overall, who will have the right to tell me I can’t make it because I don’t have some shitty piece of paper? That’s what my Swedish teacher told me, and honestly I didn’t look at it before this way, but as he said it, my mind somehow opened wider and I realised that it’s really true, and I should be happy that I have some gift for languages, or at least that it’s something I really like doing, instead of overthinking on all the things I can’t or don’t want to do but feel like I should. I really liked his unconventional and fresh way of looking at everything. As you know I also thought about doing Celtic studies online (or linguistics or translation studies online), but it would be more as a hobby then really.

Back to my Mum. I think she was shocked by that news that I failed maths. I think that was what caused her reaction. She is a big optimist and tries to be always looking forward for the best, no matter what and what the chances are. I was this way too as a kid, but luckily for me, I am no longer so, and it’s much easier. It’s not that I always see things black, or catastrophise (although yes, very often), it’s more like my pessimism is defensive. Like I try to be prepared for the worst and then if the best happens, I can be really happy. But my Mum clung to her hopes and good wishes and I think it struck her a bit. She just couldn’t get it that I am not going to rewrite it. We were both very insistent, we had a quarrel about it. She was saying that it won’t make me any harm if I’ll take it once again, if I did it the last time just to try then I can try this time again, that I’ll be surely less stressed because I’ve already been through that, that I should be more courageous… I could understand her perfectly, but it couldn’t change my mind. I felt like she doesn’t understand my position in this at all. Yes, I could rewrite it. Let’s assume that indeed it would be less stressful for me because of familiarity of the situation, that all the other stuff would be OK. But I just can’t believe that after all those years I’ve been learning that stupid math, and got only 16% on the exam, I would be able to suddenly rewrite it with the score of minimum 30% after two months of learning. I don’t even have the motivation, for the reasons I wrote about before. And no, it’s not true I wouldn’t be stressed. i would be even more, whatever it says about my resilience, I know it’s shitty. ‘Cause what if I fail again? Would they want me to rewrite it again, just to try, ’cause who knows, maybe this time I’ll succeed? I can imagine my mat tutor. She’s a very nice person, but she had hell with me, and vice versa. I haven’t talked with her since before the finals but I suppose she’s very disappointed with me, with all the efforts she’s put in me. Do I want to go through it again, and disappoint her again? Not because she’s particularly important to me but you generally don’t like to disappoint people if they do their best to help you, right? The last thing I want to do this year is see her again every week, discuss why I failed, learn all the stuff again, with both of us greatly discouraged and stressed. I still remember all those hours we spent together during weeks directly before the finals. She finally decided that she can’t help me with the tasks as much as she did before and guide me through everything, say if I do things right or wrong, because there will be no one with me on the exam who will help me and I will have to do things on my own obviously. So she gave me a task, and I had to do it on my own. She just sat there in silence, not giving me any hints or anything. I was telling her everything I did, or actually didn’t do, just trying to do it different way and sooner or later discovering it’s wrong or that I don’t know how to wriggle out of where I was and what to do next. Guys, we had 2 HOURS together! I was sitting with it for an hour, and didn’t do practically nothing. It was nerve wracking for me although I kept smiling and laughing at myself and tried to seem to have a light attitude to things, but I just wanted to cry and fall into pieces. Honestly the only thing that I think helped me to not fall apart and give up completely was Misha, who was sitting next to me consistently like never before, as if he knew I need him desperately. And my poor tutor could barely stand it, I mean the situation, not Misha, I just could sense how frustrated she is and how her patience is coming to an end. Finally she gave up and told me how I should do it. And then there were many similar situations when we tried to do the same, with pretty similar endings, sometimes I was able to do something, more or less, but always was finally stuck somewhere for good until she enlightened me. After that lesson I actually laughed, not cried, because of an outsider’s perspective it surely could be very funny to observe us, but it felt scary and enormously stressing and I don’t want to (and don’t see any sense in it) go through this anymore. Of course I didn’t tell Mum about it, she has no full idea of how much of a nightmare our lessons were, my tutor was telling her often that I am not doing well or something, but since I am adult there was no reason to update her on everything as she always does with Zofijka.

Besides, MS. Smelly Maggie – the headmistress of that school for the blind where I took the finals! That’s I guess my main stressor. If you are new to my blog and don’t know anything about MS. Maggie, I’ve written a lot about her in May, but basically she was a nightmare, I can honestly say that in my whole life I hadn’t met a more jerky and intentionally rude person, I had a nasty encounter with her after one of the exams and it has taken me weeks to clear the mess she made in my brain. I don’t want to see the bitch anymore. I know she wished me that I’d fail it. She told me she “really hopes for the best for me” with such a tone that wouldn’t leave you with any doubts, but that if I won’t get the 30%, I should go to their school, do something else there meanwhile, and then I can rewrite it next year. When my Mum joined that discussion and tried to intervene when I was already too fucked up to say anything constructive, she said she knows I have already got over my boarding school trauma if I had any and I can go to theirs with no problem, the problem is just with me, and with my Mum who “imagines things that aren’t real about me”. Someone who said such things among others to us despite not knowing neither of us for more than 10 minutes. What could I expect her to say next time I see her? Other than that, she already knows about my “unfortunate accident” and called my Mum to say she is “looking forward” to see me in August and was very surprised when Mum told her about my decision and told her I have the time to 6 July to change my decision.

But I didn’t tell Mum about my concerns and how stressful it would be for me. I just kept telling her that I’ve already made my decision months ago and now I’m not gonna change my mind. I told her I don’t see any point in doing it because having my finals completed and passed and getting certifficate won’t change anything for me. Mum kept saying that I don’t know, that I don’t know what waits for me in the future, that I may regret it later on.

That’s true. I may. I now don’t think I will, but who knows. I understand her concerns and that she is worried about me. But if I’ll really find something – some studies I want to take, or a job that requires higher education and that would be particularly suitable for me – after five years, why can’t I write it all again then? I’ll be much more motivated, and even if it’d happen after 5 years, after which you’d have to pass all the exams again to get the certifficate, you have 5 years for a rewrites, so if it would happen after 5 years, I can happily write everything all over again. I’d do it much happier than I’d do now, I’d have some deeper purpose to it.

Mum says that until that time I’d already forget everything, that I’d have to learn again.

I’m sure not. I have a lot of knowledge about Polish literature from school and not only from school, and I don’t think I could forget it that easily. I’d just have to repeat some things. Same with English, well better actually. And as for Maths, I already don’t know anything. SO what’s the difference? Maybe only slight difference is that if I’d have a purpose, I could do better at maths and maybe get to that 30%. Although it’s hard for me to imagine it.

It’s generally hard for me to imagine a situation where I find some very good job or studies that are just for me and that I could do and be successful at, but maybe it’s my AVPD speaking and I shouldn’t let it.

And you know what’s another thing? When someone forces me to do something, pressures on me, doesn’t listen to my arguments or tries to prove for all means they’re wrong and I should do what they say, it… it just scares the shit out of me… You know, I’ve had tons of nightmares throughout my life, one just last night, evolving around that motive – someone forces me to do something, and I can’t, I don’t want, it’s scary like shit what they want from me, but I for some reason can’t persuade them I can’t do it, or can’t refuse at all. I’ve had such situations happening to me in boarding school, I don’t want to go into details right now. But it all just triggers me. I only want to scream and shout and cry and feel like having a massive meltdown and I can’t cope with it, I can’t form sensible arguments, I feel attacked and overwhelmed, and… I just can’t manage it. Even little things evolving around someone being very insistent make me feel quite upset and uncomfortable easily. Like when I was a teen even little suggestions expressed with some more pressing tone, could make me feel upset and irritated. Now I cope better with little things – my Dad is a kind of guy who likes to persuade things to people and make them think how he thinks so I just had to get used to the little things – but I am still not perfectly at ease with them and things on such a large scale like that fuss with the exams was way more than I could stand not getting all unsettled. Honestly I can’t remember any such intensive arguement that I could have with anyone over the past few years, I despise all the yelling and raging at each other without any deeper sense to it, I don’t think it can lead anywhere, but… it just happened, faster than I could think, and we started to shout and were both fumin’. My Mum isn’t the kind of person who often would impose something on you, but I felt very hemmed and very very triggered. So that I actually felt lots of separate feelings, like sort of disintegration as I wrote yesterday, which I sometimes do experience and which is always so very bizarre.

And so as that talk or argue progressed I felt more hopeless and overflowed with feelings, finally Mum left and it looked like she gave up.

Lots of my family members have texted or called either me or Mum to ask how I did and they all were so pitiful… As if someone had died and they expressed their condolence. It felt ridiculous and annoying and I had a hard time to stand it. And they also were so insistent – “but why won’t you try again?”. At some point it was just a miracle I didn’t snap out at poor people, I guess they asked with the good intentions, but I just couldn’t stand it. Particularly my catastrophising gramma was making me enraged.

At some point my grandad came with eggs – he sells eggs and to us as well when we need – and although I was in my room and was locked and didn’t want to see anyone, I could hear them talking about me and my Mum being very upset, and I guess even crying. I had to let Misha out because he meowed so I heard some bits of their talk. Then I heard that someone was walking upstairs to me and I guess knocking on the door –
I’m not sure because as soon as I’ve heard someone approaching I’ve set my darkest Finnish metal playlist on the full volume on the headphones to not hear anyone talking anymore about the fricken exams. I thought it was my Mum, but it was my grandad, as it turned out later on.

I’ve heard from Mum then when he left that he thinks the same as I do. It felt so good that at least someone understands, or tries to understand me, and thinks the same. I was afraid he won’t, he’s such an intellectual generally. My grandad has always stood by my side, literally, no matter what, and I was seriously afraid it might not be so this time. But then I thought that he’s absolutely not objective. He would support me and stand by me I guess even if I killed a man in the most brutal way you can imagine. I can imagine him saying that it wasn’t what I really wanted to do or that he still believes in me and that sure if I did it, I had a solid reason. That’s my grandad. Like if any of you have read “Emily Of New Moon”, he’s just like her cousin Jim in this regard hahaha he always makes me think about him, I mean Jim about my grandad. I was his first granddaughter and my disability and being away from home for years have I guess made him even more dedicated and attached to me and favouring me over his other grandchildren.

and when I realised he’s not objective, I started to panic even more.

Maybe Mum is right? Maybe they all are right? They probably are. There are more of them, and they can think rationally about it, while I can’t? What if I will really regret it? Do they all feel disappointed with me? Maybe I should change my mind? Is it about me being not resilient enough? Not courageous enough? Squeamish? Would other people in the same situation do it? Maybe I should just try more and be more serious about this whole thing? Maybe I’m too lazy? Faking AVPD to have an excuse? Maybe Maggie is right in all she said to me? She culdn’t say it without a reason, could she? Should I make such a big deal out of it?

Just this sort of questions and much more self defeating and self loathing thoughts circulated and exploded and overloaded my brain.

I realised that what I would like the most would be if someone could look at the situation really objectively. Understanding and knowing my perspective, and knowing the objective exam situation. I didn’t want people to tell me that I should rewrite it just because people always do so when they fail an important and deciding exam, I also didn’t want people to behave like my grandad and tell me what I wanted to hear if it’s not what’s true and objective. But I doubt anyone can tell me what I should do objectively and basing on my own situation. Is there any objectivity actually? I am just curious what would other people do in my place.

So yeah yesterday was incredibly rough. My feeling triggered and depressed has spread much wider and it stopped being just about exams and my future. I just felt like a piece of shit overall and everything was scary and hopeless and… well, it was just horrid. I was actually feeling suicidal, because I felt so conflicted because of this situation and so overloaded because of the argue with Mum, I just didn’t see any way out. It was actually the first time since a very long time that I was really pretty suicidal and had a lot of suicidal ideations. I feel horrified when I think about it now because at one moment I was so close to do something just in an impulse. I was going to sleep with Misha, and wanted to take my sleeping pill, because I was just all shaky and stuff. I took her, and I just had one short moment when I thought I’d take all of the meds I had in my room. It wasn’t much. I had some sleeping pills, anxiolitics and pain killers and allergy pills, but it wasn’t a lot of it in total. And that was what saved me. Because as I thought about it, my emetophobia came to the surface and told me that if I take this, I’d rather end up in the hospital on the detox than dead. And And it was then I fully realised what I just wanted to do. WHat a shit. It feels very scary now, I haven’t done such things for ages, and surely not so impulsively. It feels like a huge regress. Should I be thankful to my fucking emetophobia?

Today, I can see things a little bit more clearly, and I’m not feeling as much different shitty things at once.

I think my Mum’s outlook on things is different now.

I actually had a little talk with her about it today too, a bit calmer. It was incredibly hard for me, because I had to open up to her a bit about how I feel about that shit, I mean why I feel like rewriting that exam is pointless. I had to reveal to her a bit more of my AVPD self who usually stays locked inside of me away from normal people and so that I can pretend better or worse that I am normal or more normal than I am. Then I also told her that yes, it does, and certainly will, feel weird to me, to know several languages, be, say, a translator, maybe translate Vreeswijk, which would be like a HUUUGE THING and not have any higher education. But it’s nothing major I think. It will give me a harder kick in the ass and motivate me to actually try to be better than all the linguists that have the honour to be well educated and have lots of letters after their surnames. And she actually agreed with me and she told me we can stop talking about it and end the topic if I want and that she won’t urge me.

Of course, it doesn’t look exactly that very lovely as I said Mum and I am still, as always, very full of doubts as for my future, will I really manage to be a translator? Can I actually do anything else than that pseudo job at my Dad’s? But if other people, particularly my Mum, will stop analysing that bloody exam, if I’ll try hard, I hope I’ll manage. Life will always feel scary for me, no matter what, but this way much less.

Still though, I wonder, maybe I should rewrite it? Maybe it’s like giving up? Maybe I should just grit my teeth and go through it, and maybe I’d pass it and then have more possibilities in life? Maybe I’m selfish in some way not wanting to do what they suggest me?

I have a question for you guys. If you decide to answer it for me, please, be honest, whatever your thoughts are. I won’t be resentful or anything, I want to know what other people think.

My question is – if you can imagine my situation, as I wrote about it and as you know it and me from my previous posts – and if you were in the same situation, what would you do? Would you strive to improve your results and have more chances for future, and not disappoint people that are close to you? Would you want to challenge yourself more and see the point in it? Or would you do as I hope to do and focus on your good sides, not dive into that very anxiety provoking thing again?

I’m not asking you that question in search for advice. You won’t be responsible for what I’ll do, I won’t change my decision most likely, they need to have people signed up for rewrites until Friday and that’s way too little time for my introverted and overanalysing brain which is very sluggish recently. I just simply want to know what other people’s attitudes would be, I don’t know, maybe something will inspire me. πŸ˜€ I suppose it’s crazy to ask people about such things as it may be a little abstractive for others, I guess, but if you have any thoughts on this, please share.

It’s interesting how I feel even better now after writing it all, looks like it makes a difference whether you’re writing in a diary or blogging? I feel much lighter now if I’m honest.

Question of the day.

How are you feeling, today?

My answer:

First let me give you a little background, particularly for those who are my newer followers, but also for you all to update you on what has happened.

I’ve got my finals results today. They’re pretty much as I supposed them to be. I got 49% from Polish. Could be better, but it’s OK, given that it was my first exam in a row and how stressed I was and that some questions were a bit weird and I just didn’t know how I should answer them the best and what they actually expect from me. English – 92% – I thought it would be pretty high. Extended English was 82%. I also know I could do it better, but it’s still a very good score, and I’m happy about it, and I suppose that the reason why I didn’t make it better was that when I was writing an essay one of the teachers in the committee talked something constantly to me which really distracted me and pissed me off, while the essay was the most important part of the stuff. And, now, dear people, maths. There was 30% minimum to get to pass it. Being said many times how spectacular I am at failing anything Math related, and how much of a wreck I was then emotionally, how do you think? How much could I get?

……….. *drumroll*

… 16% Lovely, innit? πŸ˜€ How could I nail it so! No, seriously, I’m curious how I got that 16% I just felt so totally brainwashed during that exam.

I didn’t know whether to cry or laugh when my Mum told me it in the morning, but because I supposed it to be so, and because I cried over those things way too much in the past, I just snorted. I took it very lightly ad my Mum noticed it of course. She said “I see you don’t care at all” – Maybe not at all – I said – but I thought and cared about it so long before and I knew it would be so. Or I supposed so.

Don’t get me wrong, of course I would love to get a higher score at it, at least that minimum 30%, just to have it done, it’s sure not a nice feeling to fail so spectacularly at such an exam, I feel sorta disappointed even though I expected it to be this way. But as I said, I expected it, I was pretty sure that despite that miracle I wrote about in May about my oral Polish exam when I just passed it with 100% another miracle can’t happen in this case, I just didn’t write enough, I just didn’t do how to do many of the tasks so I just left them, or completely improvised, just to write anything and not make the committee suspicious about my knowledge, it’s not their business to judge me, it would look weird if I’d give them back blank pages, so have to write anything, in hopes maybe something will enlighten me and it will be right, that’s how I did it. Despite years of preparations. And another thing is that I just haven’t any speciffic, just ANY plans for the future. I just don’t know anything what I would like and could do at the same time. Might seem weird for you knowing how much things interest me etc. but that’s the truth. It feels pretty hopeless when you think about it more, but I got used to it. I wanted to study Celtic Studies if I’d pass the finals, and that would be cool, but that would be just for studying, what could I do here after Celtic studies? Can’t think of many things. Moving anywhere doesn’t seem a real option so far either. It all’s generally very complicated.

Anyway, my Mum didn’t really set her mind and prepared emotionally to the fact I may not pass, despite I told her it’s pretty likely and she was worried, but clung to some little hope she had. And now she’s making lots of fuss about it. I already told everyone interested much longer before the finals that I am just taking them to check myself and my abilities, to see if I can pass all the exams and that I’m gonna try to look at it as lightly as possible, and that I’m not gonna rewrite maths if I fail it, unless I’ll have only a few points less from the minimum, then maybe I could try again. But otherwise it’s pointless, if I wasn’t able to prepare well enough in all those years, what can I do until taking it again, it would be pretty unlikely I would pass it the second time. And they seemed OK with it. But now my Mum can’t get it that I’m not gonna take maths again. No one seems to accept it.

Of course she notified everyone who asked her how I did and they all are so pitiful and so insistent, everyone has handfuls of good advices for me, but they just don’t get it from my perspective. They can’t, and I don’t expect it from them, but I also don’t expect and don’t need all that fuss they make and how they all feel for me more than I do for myself.

The situation with the exams and various people really getting the shit out of me started lots of other stuff going on for me emotionally today, not directly related to exams thing at all. I just slipped into a sort of AVPD and depressive hell.

So, finally, as for how I feel, I don’t have many words for it. Shitty. Like a depressed pile of stinky and sticky shit. I’m sick of my own brain and of people and of everything, I actually think I’m triggered in some way, and I just feel too many things that I don’t even know how to describe, and very different things, as if I was a bit disintegrated emotionally, so I can’t write much about it now. I’ll maybe write more in length later on, tomorrow or something, or maybe it’ll become more manageable TO COPE WITH BY MYSELF, but right now I just don’t have that many words I could use for my feelings, and I’m going to try to sleep in a while even though it’s JUST 10 PM, to shut off my brain for as long as possible and because I just feel so wiped out physically, and I’m afraid that if I’ll stay awake much longer I might end up self harming or something because I just can’t cry or anything and I need to get it out somehow but I can’t, so maybe sleep will help. I think I’d give up much earlier and cut but as you may remember my grandparents’ have their 50th wedding anniversary on Saturday and it would be hard for me to cut so that no one would notice it then because I have a dress with exposed arms and it’s not that very long either, plus it may be hot on Saturday so a lot of my skin would be exposed. So that’s I guess the only one reason why I haven’t done it yet because the urge’s pretty strong. I don’t want anyone to notice and I don’t want to do it to my grandad, particularly not now. He seems to be the only one who still at least tries to understand me, believes in me and stands by my side, although he’s not objective either, because he has ALWAYS supported me no matter what the circumstances were like and I think he would still stand by my side even if I did something really objectively morally disgusting.

I am sorry it’s all a little chaotic, the situation is pretty complicated and I’ll write more details about it later on, if I’ll find the right words and if I’ll still feel like doing it. I hope I didn’t worry anyone with my self harm urges, I promise you guys I won’t do anything today, I think I’m too exhausted. It’s just all so overwhelming. I wouldn’t think it would be so. I wanted it to be a nice day, regardless of what my results will be like. But it was gross.

How are you doing? πŸ™‚

Question of the day.

When was the last time you were really angry?

My answer:

It was last month, during my finals, during that notorious encounter with the headmistress of that school where I passed them. I was just so angry I could barely keep it inside, I was tampin’ fumin’ ragin’, to use my favourite expression,, I was triggered,frustrated, sad, hurt, overwhelmed, scared, all and more at once. And I couldn’t get over it for days, and I still feel very weird and awful when I recall it. I am very lucky I had my Dad who was driving me back and forth for all the finals so I didn’t have to stay in their boarding school at nights and deal with her more than necessary, and when we once did stay in Bydgoszcz we went to the hotel and had fun thanks to him being so much at our disposal, otherwise it could be really a horrific experience, also more practically because from what we heard about rooms in that boarding school and the living conditions there, it didn’t look very appealing, particularly for my Mum. She was indignant that they call their rooms “cells”, even at the boarding school where I was learning they had “guestrooms” (and the school was led by nuns, so… well…). Anyway, anytime I had to see that bitch afterwards before and after any exam I was just feeling absolutely raging and it is pure luck for both of us, I think, that I’m so excellent at bottling up emotions so she didn’t have to deal with my rage and I didn’t put myself in trouble. πŸ˜€ I’m so so sooooo happy it’s over. I might see her once more if I’ll pass the written exams and will have to go there once again to receive the certifficate, but then the circumstances would be completely different, so it won’t be so tough. And if I won’t pass, then I won’t see her at all, and she won’t have anything to say about it, although I suppose she would really like to put in her two pennies worth if she got a chance, assuming from her earlier comments and behaviours towards me and my Mum.

When was the last time for you? πŸ™‚

Wanna join the no sleep club? And a bit of a rant, couldn’t resist.

Hi. πŸ™‚

So, does anyone want to join the No Sleep Club? I don’t know if there’s something similar in English, but in Polish, we have a sort of saying: if for example you say to someone “I didn’t sleep tonight” that person can say “Welcome to the club” which means she didn’t sleep either. and I had such situation with my friend when I told her I didn’t sleep very well and she said welcome to the club and then we were talking about the idea of a no sleep club. Just a place where not sleeping at night people could be together and do whatever they want, but just be glad they’re not the only ones not sleeping. How do you like the idea? πŸ˜€ Just my thoughts. πŸ˜€

SThe rest of this post is going to be almost entirely a rant, so… just be prepared:

eems like I’m not going to sleep tonight, or at least not much. Today is one of these days when it sucks more than usually because I’m feeling very crappy and depressed since Thursday I think and I was hoping to at least sleep through some more of this shitty time. But probably I just had too much sleep last time as I slept from about 1 AM until almost 10. So again my sleep cycle is ruined. It all feels even more overwhelming at night. I just feel so low I am surprised I can function in the outside world as usual, or almost as usual. I feel like it could give me some relief if I could have some outlet, I’ve tried to write about all I feel and don’t feel in my diary and maybe why, but although I was writing for quite a while and wrote down a lot of my depressive thoughts and concerns and frustrations and all, I feel like I didn’t get to the core and wasn’t able to define what it is that overwhelms me the most, like I couldn’t get it into words. In any language I know well enough to talk at least basically about all this fucking complexity of my freaking brain that sometimes barely makes sense even for myself. Well most of the time I think. So I gave up with expressing myself, I think, at least for now.

But what I noticed looking at my diary recently is that I finally seem to see any patterns or cycles in which my depressive moods, or rather more depressive than usual, tend to go. I’ve always wanted to know if it’s possible in my case to define in which part of the day, or week, or month, my mood is most low or high. And I looked at the dates of entries and saw most of these filled with lots of depressive/generally self loathing thoughts I was usually writing either on the very end of the month, or the very beginning. And when I have PMS, but that I’ve already known. I don’t know whether it could matter or not, but am going to see how it will proceed this month and in a couple next months.

I think I’ve told you my ex therapist with whom I check in from time to time on the phone, thinks I have bipolar. No one else from the mental health specialists whom I visited suggested it, but she said that in her opinion mood swings I’ve been experiencing and sudden lift ups which aren’t very high, but are visible for me and which she had seen too, can be classified as hypomania. Only that I actually didn’t have such a really upbeat mood in months now. I had days when I felt pretty neutral or even a bit higher than neutral, but nothing like I could really say that I am in a good mood, no euphoria or anything. And so recently I started to wonder if she’s right or not. I know some people have longer cycles, but then if I had such a long depression phase, with so changeable intensivity, I guess I should have a longer hypomania episode, or shouldn’t I, I don’t know, that seems to be the only thing I know right now. And then thinking about that let me again to the conclusion that if I still don’t have the diagnosis other than that reactive depression three years ago and no actual treatment, it must mean I must be totally not fitting into any criteria, maybe I’m just somehow faking it or something or making a big deal of things, or am just untreatable. Of course rationally I know people can struggle with not getting a diagnosis either psychiatric or in any other medical field, for much longer, but emotionally I can’t really get it.

Good at least my anxiety has lessened since I’m on afobam again, it makes things more manageable, this yea is really so shitty, I don’t get how I’m actually supposed to get through it, so it’s good I’m on it now. And Misha’s with me. This is such a good child. It’s often hard to get him sleep with me at night, he sleeps so much during the day he’s then full of beans in the evening, but recently he started to come to me on his own when he sees people are going to sleep and meows at me to feed him and put him to bed. πŸ™‚ He’s just sweet. And I am working on a name game, just to not think too much, or to not overthink and I’m going to post it here later on. I hope you’ll like it too, I got the idea from Meagan a.k.a. Tulip By Any Name, but I’m making my own. I rarely have ideas about my own name games, though I love them, so I’m glad I have something to occupy my mind at least for a while. It’s nothing big, but you have to be focused on it.

This no sleep thing really frustrates me, mostly because I have Maths in the morning. I don’t know how I’m gonna make it through with no sleep, but if I’ll feel very zombie-like maybe our tutor will take Zofijka during my hours. And my head started aching a few hours ago like I’m going to have a migraine soon, so yeah, seems like I’ll be having lots of fun tomorrow, or today actually, or whatever else kind of shit it’ll be then. But I didn’t have a migraine for some time already, but why do I have to have it at all? Is it really so necessary if so many people can live without it? Shit. Yeah everything seems soooo overwhelming right now, almost whatever I’ll think about.

Sorry it is so chaotic, but I’m generally very chaotic when talking about stuff like that, honestly, although I’ve been always writing a lot in my diary about my, hmmm, internal experiences, I still feel quite odd sharing my negative feelings with other people, even writing.

Really thanks for reading if you made through all this.

Question of the day.

What is the most important thing a person can do to improve themselves?

My answer:

Another hard one… Umm, a person? Every person? I think it’s hard to find a thing which all the people could do to improve themselves as we all have so different qualities… and so different values so what’s important to me doesn’t necessarily have to be important to you.

But the first thing I thought about was to become more empathetic. Most of us, unless severely hurt in childhood or having some conditions like brain damages, are empathetic to a varying degree, but I think also most of us could make more use of it or improve our empathy. I think it’s often that when we do something we know is good for us it sometimes happens that we tend to think so much about advantages which we will have of it, that we might not see other people who may be also influenced by our decisions and won’t benefit from them or may even feel hurt. Sometimes we feel emotional, arguing with someone or something like this and our emotions change our view on things. We see our feelings first and then other people’s and we often say things that may be hurtful for them just because we feel hurt. We know they will feel pain and it isn’t necessary to hurt them, but we don’t try to feel how it would be to be in their situation.

I think if we tried to imagine possibly exactly how a person may feel when we do something, or how would we feel being in their shoes, we would do much less hurtful things to people and maybe even start to do more nice things to them. Of course too extreme empathy isn’t good either, but I feel like most of us would benefit if we tried to improve this quality in us. And it would be definitely a big self improvement.

What is such thing in your opinion?

Present.

It’s often hard for me to live in the present

.I’ve always had a tendency to either worry to much about the future, or delve in the past, analysing all the awful stuff that happened to me or idealising my good memories, or when my future seemed absolutely hopeless to me, to escape into daydreams where everything looked colourful and I could entertain myself with millions of beautiful scenarios of my life and the reality around me.

I noticed it at some point a few years ago, while talking with my Mum about something good that happened to me in the past and I was all like “oh it was so good back then” and Mum finally told me something that really amazed me and gave me a lot to think about. She said she thinks I think about the past or the future so much that I don’t live the present and can’t appreciate it, and so my own life flies past beside me, without me taking actually part in it. And although it sounded harsh and brutal for me back then and I immediately said it’s not true, it stayed with me and I thought about it a lot.

Finally I realised it’s true. I realised that when those things I liked so much about the past, when all those nice moments were happening, I didn’t think much about them, didn’t think they are nice because my mind was focused on so many other things, negative and stressful things, so I didn’t really live that moment, only in my memories afterwards. I know now that there is even the word for it in the Welsh language, which can’t be translated directly to English, it is “hiraeth” and it means longing for things, or particularly places, that don’t really exist, because you idealised them in your mind. Like your motherland for example, when you’re an emigrant. Some time passed away, so it could change, and your mind deludes you that it was better than it ever was because, the grass is always greener… obviously. Hiraeth may also refer to the longing for something you don’t know, so you know you feel the longing or yearning and it’s very strong, but you don’t know what’s it all about so it’s a bit frustrating. Oh but I shouldn’t talk about the hiraeth now!

So I realised I was experiencing that what now I know as hiraeth and decided to change it. I thought it is a total and pointless waste of energy and of time to do what I did.

I started to try to see all the positive things around me and, pretty quickly actually, it wasn’t already so hard for me to notice different small things in life that could be enjoyable. I still am a pessimist, but not of that kind that don’t see any positives at all. My pessimism, as I wrote sometime before, is more of a defensive nature. And it doesn’t stop me from being positive and grateful for all the good things in life. I am very often depressed, but, unless it hits me really hard for some time, usually I’m not anhedonic, so, I still have my passions, things I like to do, and they usually help me. Also I cope better with not so distant future. Like, let’s say about three years ago, if I would have a nice weekend and could do lots of things I like, everything would be great, I wouldn’t focus on the weekend, but would likely freak out about all the stressful things that wait for me on Monday. Now I rarely experience it to an extent that really disturbs me a lot. If I have something stressing ahead, it’s still in the back of my mind, but if I’m doing something better right now, I surely won’t focus on that stressful thing. Why should I do it?

I think it is now easier to appreciate the life and all about it more, because the present is just easier for me than the past was. Just the fact that I wasn’t seriously suicidal in years now means I’m now in much better place than I was back then.

Unfortunately, I’m still worrying, sometimes almost obsessively, about the more distant future, it’s very hard to control it, especially in times like these, when I’m finishing one of the stages in my life and aren’t quite sure what to do next. I am still daydreaming, and, especially at night, different crappy memories like to remind me about their existence. I’m still trying to unlearn it. But at least I haven’t that feeling, that my life is going beside me, and I am stuck in the past or in the future and don’t take any advantage of it.

Do you also feel sometimes like you’re not living the present?

 

A bit of a mental health update.

I’ve had quite a tough time in a few recent days. It started on Thursday and it was even more tough because it was my birthday, so, you know, people would expect you to be happy, smiling and beaming, while I felt everything but that. Since I got up, I felt just so overwhelmingly depressed, plus extremely irritable and emotional, like anything you’d say could make me cry or scream, just like a minefield. Very unstable. So, although as I wrote some time before, I am still a master at stifling emotions and no one really could really see anything that’s going on inside me, even my Mum didn’t realise until I told her, it was really hard to keep things under control.
I had a very poor sleep the night before and maybe that contributed to it. I fell asleep sometime between 4 and 5, I had so many thoughts and feelings on my mind that they kept me up and anxious for the most part of the night. Luckily when I finally fell asleep, it wasn’t disrupted and I had some time to catch up on sleep before the noon. So as I said, I felt just massive floods of emotions going through me when I woke up. I felt like I was shaking inside and had a lump of rage and tears constantly in my throat, as if I was close to a meltdown, which felt a bit scary.
I tried to be smiling and I think I succeeded, after all I am sure that if not my emotional disregulation, I would surely enjoy that day much more.
My sis Zofijka was very sweet to me. She bought me a Toffifee, she knows I love Toffifee and she loves it too, so we were eating it together. Also she got me a pillow which looks like a cat and she called it Misha. My Mum got me a salt lamp, which is really lovely. And I got a cat figurine made of onyx from my Dad, so my gem stone figurines collection is now a bit bigger. It is very lovely too. I felt very grateful for how they knew what would make me happy.
The first more difficult moment for me during that day happened when my aunt, who is also my God mother called me to wish me happy birthday. She is kind of know-all person, quite judgmental and that’s why she often, consciously or not, hurts people with her straight-away, judgmental opinions, which surely aren’t facts, or with her “good advices”. I think almost everyone knows someone like this, who wishes you only well, but in fact every time you talk to them, you feel drained or hurt.
So this time wasn’t an exception and she kind of worsened my mood even more. So I decided that before any guests will come, I need some Mishtime, just Misha and me, otherwise I will explode and people will be surely very astonished and confused. So we had some time together with Misha and with some good, Norwegian electronic music on. I think Mishka realised in some way that I need him, because he stayed beside me for an entire hour, although it’s so not his style. We lied together and I was stroking him and listening to his sounds – his heartbeat, breath, his tummy and any other Mishsounds. They are all sooo cute! πŸ˜€ Really. And they are so soothing. That’s why I sometimes wish I could go inside Misha and hide there, although my sis says it’s weird, because she thinks Misha can’t be even a bit as beautiful inside as he is outside and she’d prefer to be small enough to fit his basket and curl up in there with him. Anyway, Mishtime made me a bit more relaxed for a while, but just for a while.
Finally the guests came and it turned out we’ll be having quite a lot of extended family here. Our family is rather big and they like gatherings and their food, especially my Dad’s family, so it was really quite a bunch of people. Although I know them all more or less obviously since they are my family, I didn’t feel very confident in such a big group of people so the anxiety turned on at some point as well. And then we also had a little family drama, not regarding me directly, but indirectly and it made me even more emotional, so after a few hours I just needed urgently to go away from all this. So did it. Misha was following me so we both went to the bathroom and I had a long, hot shower and cried my guts out, as I felt I needed it, where as Misha enjoyed his favourite activity – drank the water from the tap in the tube. He always drinks from everywhere but his own bowl. πŸ˜€ I couldn’t really get exactly why I had all these emotions and why they were so intense and mixed. So I cried a lot and for a while I felt I let it out, but it couldn’t be all, because I still was feeling very depressed and hopeless and lonely, although paradoxically the living room was full of people who came to me, at least theoretically. But I knew that if I came to them, the feeling of loneliness wouldn’t decrease. And I was just as crappy as I didn’t feel in weeks already. And then before I even fully realised what I’m doing, I cut myself. Again. Ughhh… Then, of course, endorphines started to work. But again, just for a while.
So I decided that I need to call my therapist. Well I’ve told you already that she isn’t my therapist any longer formally, but since I don’t have any other regular therapy instead, she checks in with me from time to time, like once a month or so. She’s very busy and has a few jobs, so it’s often hard for her to carve out some time. That’s why I was almost sure she won’t be able to talk.
But she was. And it already felt like a huge relief. I told her how unstable and chaotic I feel and like I can burst out with any minute and how unsafe I feel because of that and that I have no clue what could cause it, only that it may be some unprocessed stuff from the past or something like this. Then while talking to her about all that, I realised that it might be also due to PMS, as I have it. There was a little discussion about PMS on one of the lists I’m on exactly the same day, but I didn’t realise it may be due to PMS, or partly because of it, before I started to talk about it to my therapist.I talked to her about what’s going on in my life. That recently I am having sleep paralysis and all the scary dreams regularly again so often wake up pretty exhausted before I even start doing something more constructive. I also talked to her about my anxiety levels which are shifting quite a lot now, sometimes I can feel almost no anxiety and then suddenly it just hits me so strong that it’s sometimes really hard to stand it. Sometimes I even don’t see the reason of such reaction very clearly. And it’s often hard to hide from people that I am anxious, which I hate, because it still makes me quite unsafe when I know or even suppose that other people may realise what I’m feeling at the moment. I told her that I often feel like I don’t get myself AT ALL and how it damn frustrates me. And that I cut myself and now am frustrated about that too. We also talked briefly about my social anxiety in connection to my birthday. She already knows that this school year is extremely hard for me because of the final exams coming in May and stuff related to that as well as because I feel very unsecure about my future and it just looks so shitty and hopeless to me. So she asked me also about these things and how I am doing school wise. I told her that besides that previous exam session being much tougher for me emotionally than I’d expect and how drained I was afterwards, it’s fairly well with this now, I decided to slow down before the next term starts ’cause I feel I really need it and now I’m trying to think about school and my future as little as possible, but I think I’ll have a gap year before I’ll start with any further education. Just to have more time to consider what would be the best for me and also to recharge after this year. And maybe gain some new skills like a new language, find another job, so I’ll have more money either to save for the future or spare just for things I enjoy since I can do this now as I live with my family. That’s what my Mum told me would be wise to do, to take a gap year, and I think so too. My therapist said it’s reasonable indeed. We also talked about my relationship with my Dad, which was always difficult, complicated I mean, but rather good and recently started to break down a bit which worries me and makes me a bit confused. And we talked a lot about many different emotions and feelings and the content of my dreams and other things that are a bit too private to put it here, plus some of them are still fairly difficult for me to talk about.
Anyway, she was able to put some of the weight off me and I felt a little bit more uplifted, even just the fact that she was accessible for me and I had someone supportive to talk to did a lot for me. I felt much more encouraged and not so much hopeless, although it still wasn’t ideally.
She told me that she’s of course not a doctor, but she thinks I am in a lot of distress because of all that what’s going on and if she’d be me, she’d ask my doc to put me on Afobam again.
I was taking Afobam some time ago for a while and it really worked for me so I think it’s not a bad thought and I think I’ll do it next week. Also she told me she would really like to be able to schedule some regular sessions for me, ’cause that’s definitely what I need in her opinion, so she said it would be good if I could find someone who would provide me support on a regular basis. THat may not be as easy though, but I was also thinking about it a lot recently, so looks like it’s time for it.
Misha was still with me as talked to my therapist and purred loudly. I think there really might be something more to that theory that animals are very good at feeling our emotions, he was just so sweet that day. Or maybe he realised it was my birthday haha.
So when we finished, I went downstairs to see what’s up and helped my Mum a bit to tidy up and then went straight to bed with Misha, as I still felt quite depressed and exhausted. The next day I talked to my Mum about my call with the therapist and what we talked about and generally about everything related. She isn’t always very understanding, but was very supportive when I talked to her and we talked honestly and openly for about an hour which I really appreciated. And my Mum also told me she feels like she might have PMS right now, ’cause that day was also hard for her. I didn’t have that overwhelming feeling of too many mixed emotions inside me any longer, although was still feeling depressive throughout the day. But it wasn’t as scary as on Thursday, it really made a huge difference for me.
Today, besides poor sleep again and still feeling a bit depressive, I feel much more stable. My therapist checked in with me today in the morning via email and seemed very pleased to hear about my conversation with Mum. So that’s it, I really hope it’ll get only better from now on. Hope you all are having great weekend. πŸ™‚

Stifle *long post*

Sorry, it might be a bit chaotic. I rarely open up so much to people so I got a bit emotional.Β Β Β  Also very sorry for being so late with this prompt, I actuallly wrote it much earlier, but the URL I inserted was wrong.

Some triggers might be possible.
So today, thanks to Daily Post, as a non native English speaker, I’ve learnt a new great word, which is stifle. I am a lover of words in all “my” languages, so yay I’m happy.
So because of this, I wanted to share with you my coping with life strategy, which I’ve learnt during my time in boarding school and now trying to unlearn. I hope it will help someone with similar experiences, as well as myself. This “coping strategy” is as you can guess, stifling them. Why I was doing it?
First of all I think that because I am an introvert, I have always had a tendency to do it. My Dad is a professional kind of stifler and has been one as long as I can remember, but not as professional as me. But since I went to boarding school, I quickly started to have a feeling, that my emotions aren’t really valid. I don’t know if anyone thought so, but that was just how I felt. I didn’t feel good there for many reasons and it was always a nightmare for me to go back there. I know that most of the kids didn’t felt it like this. Sure, not all of them liked school, most kids don’t, they surely missed their families, but noone seemed to have it all to such a degree and to have such issues with adapting there. I was having these issues for all the time I was there. I know only one girl who had it similar to me, luckily her mum noticed it quickly and took her from there in primary. So generally I felt much like an alien, to whom no one can really relate. I felt incredibly weak and hypersensitive because I couldn’t deal with things normal kids dealt without a bigger trouble and, besides some obvious homesickness and other stuff like that, liked it there. Plus I was always kind of individualistic, so didn’t blend in well in the surroundings, while blending with the surroundings was very well-seen there. I know people, both the staff and the kids, thought it is strange that I have other interests than the majority and often prefer just to be alone than in the crowd of people.
In first few years I tended to talk to my Mum in details how I feel and how lonely and stressed etc. I feel all the time, but one day I realised that one of the staff is listening very carefully to what I talk to her about. She came to me then and told me with quite a particular tone in her voice: “You know, if you have a problem, with feelings or something, we can always discuss it on the meeting”. They had group meetings almost every evening there, so girls from a particular group met with their staff and either read something, or discussed things etc.
Maybe I am weird, but I didn’t feel very reassured by that. I needed time to trust people to share my feelings with them. I needed at least some proof that they are really involved. I didn’t want my deepest feelings to be “discussed” by everyone publicly. The more that I just knew they couldn’t understand me, even if they genuinely would like.
So my reaction was a silent rebellion. I thought that NO – from now on, noone will have access to my feelings. I am not a book, to read my emotions and “discuss” and maybe even review if they are “positive” or “negative”. I need to protect myself. I need to have at least some space for myself and this space will be my feelings, which will be just my own, noone else’s.
And you know what? I didn’t even really had to try in any special way to stifle everything. As I now remember it, I feel like it was just I had this outburst of anger and silent rebellion one evening and woke up with a marble mask all over me.
I also stopped to confide to my Mum, firstly because I was now more conscious that walls have ears, but also because I knew she’s worried. I knew from other people that when she’s coming back home after leaving me at school, she’s crying in the car and then at home sometimes too. Since those days I was always feeling guilty whenever I was talking to her about some more complicated stuff that is going on in my life or even just in my head or even if I just noticed a sign of worry in her and suspected it might be because of me.
Teachers, boarding school staff and some kids I was relatively close to, like my roommates, started to see the change relatively late. I tried to not change my attitude totally. On the outside, when I chose to be with other kids, I tried my best to be humourous, likeable, interesting, but as distanced as it was possible at the same time. I had trouble suppressing such emotions like joy or fascination, but never showed up any so called negative, especially, NEVER EVER, anger. With time, I decided to open up just a bit to one of my roommates, as we liked each other quite much and thought we are best friends. Or maybe we both just pretended to be ones, I don’t know. It wasn’t about my feelings regarding boarding school and that stuff though, but anyway, then I felt quite a big regret that I did it, it turned out to not be the right thing to do. But then I’ve bottled up quite a lot of it and, very rarely, from time to time, like once a year maybe, or twice, I started to have quite impressive meltdowns. Like all the anger, all the tears were coming out of me for little to no reason. And people were like… quite astonished. I was too. ‘Cause even before I started to stifle everything, I was rather calm. It felt like it’s not me. While in fact I was having a meltdown, yelling at people, making everything around fly all over the room, and crying, or having hysteria, I felt like I am standing beside and looking without many more emotions than just astonishment. I was just like: “Oh wow! Is this me?”. The next day I was scared though. Most often I didn’t even remember that much of a meltdown itself, but only thinking about not having control at all over your actions… it’s still quite frightening for me. And I felt exactly like I couldn’t gain any control during such meltdowns. It just had to leave me on its own, I couldn’t really help and stop it.
So then one of the staff started to think something must be really much more wrong with me than she always have thought before and talked to my Mum. But, although I didn’t put off my marble-icy mask at home totally, I was a bit more at ease and spontaneous, and didn’t have any meltdowns at all, so she didn’t see anything concerning and actually didn’t really believe in what that lady told her.
But she did notice some things soon and started to think about some alternative for me, I mean, alternative school.
And so for two years, at the age of 10 and 11, I was going to an integration school, much closer to my home, well not that close really, but it made a huge difference for me because I could be at home everyday after school and felt like I am incredibly lucky. I was always jealous about kids in such situation.
So it was better, but my attitude didn’t change, I actually even forgot about what I told myself about protecting myself and not giving other people access to my emotions, it just was going on its own now. I had to remind it to myself a few years ago. So the problem wasn’t really solved. All those emotions seemed to sit with me, and although I felt lucky and grateful that I am at home, I didn’t feel really happy.
I had neurosis, different psychosomatic symptoms like migraines or nausea or other crappy stuff, suicidal thoughts, everything felt very overwhelming, like any activity I had to do craved a lot of motivation, which I actually didn’t have, I was constantly depressed, anxious. It was then when I started to have symptoms of emetophobia and other speciffic phobias, although I really can’t recall any particular event that could trigger it, I just started to be more and more afraid of this and that even if I previously wasn’t and soon it became just a very strong anxiety, hard to deal on a daily basis.
After those two years, something happened, that’s another long story, anyway my Mum and me realised that I need to change school again. And, looking at things practically, there weren’t many more reasonable options for me than going back to that boarding school for the blind. I saw it too. My Mum knew that it would crave a lot of strength from me to come back there again, so to encourage me more she said she’ll do her best to make my biggest dream come true if I’ll be strong enough to come there again. Which she did a few years later. So yeah I decided to go there and burn myself all over once again. After all we live in the civilised world and everyone needs to have some education, I wanted to have it too, it’s not that I didn’t.
After the break it was even more hard. During my two years outside of that environment I was even more different, gained some strange interests and fears.
So it all clicked in the mind of that lady who talked to my Mum about me not expressing feelings and what she got of it is she started to think I must be on autistic spectrum.
So again she alarmed my Mum and talked it through with her. My Mum was frightened. Literally.
I needed to go back to school during summer holidays because they wanted to examine me for Asperger’s. I was twelve then so they didn’t really discussed it all with me before, I just got to know I will be examined in July and there will be some professionals from an autism centre. But, I was a very curious child. I liked to learn new things, I liked to observe the world and for some reason, especially people’s behaviours and personalities, in as big degree as it could be possible for a blind child. And also I was starting to be very interested in psychology and medicine. In our school, there were many kids on autism spectrum. Most of them were rather very low-functioning, some were Aspies. And I liked to observe them all and their behaviours too. Most of them seemed quite weird for me, but I could even relate to some. Like their aversion to changes for instance. Also when I was living at home, I listened to a radio programme where a lady from this exact autism centre was speaking about Asperger’s syndrome. So although they didn’t literally tell me who will examine me and what is ther job in general, as soon as I heard the name of the centre, I started to have a bit of a clue what’s going on.
I tink it was a bit unhonest of them to not tell me what they actually want to do and what they are concerned about. I know I was just a kid and kids shouldn’t know everything what is talked about them, but… it made me really worried. I started to feel even more abnormal and not validated at all. So I hid even more. The thing I remembered the best about ASD was that people with it tend to have interests, which were rather rare and tend to be extremely good at any particular thing. A bit stereotypical maybe, but that was what they said in that programme and it caught my attention, as it fit me in some way. I always felt quite uncommon because of my interests. And that thing with changes and adaptivity… I was wondering about it all the time. It wasn’t that I was afraid about having Asperger’s… well, probably I was, getting a diagnosis is most often a bit anxiety provoking for people and I’m sure I wouldn’t be an exception. But I am sure I could accept it. It is more about the fact that because of how different I am, they wanted to proof me how unhealthy and abnormal it is. That I don’t have the right to be different. My Mum said it was because that staff was so caring about me, but didn’t I hear all comments, of hers and many others, about how I should change and be like the others? “ALl the kids do this, why don’t you?”. Things like that. I am not sure whether it can make sense for anyone else like me, but that’s simply how I feel.
But even when finally that day came and the lady from the autism centre came to examine me, noone told me what’s going on.
She was all smiles and sweetness and told me she wants to make “an interview” with me.
I don’t really remember what she asked me about, I was very stressed out and hypervigilant all day long then. So “the interview” was finally over and I still hadn’t have an idea what was going on. It was driving me just soo crrrazy.
So I couldn’t stand it any longer in the evening. I went out with my Mum, I wanted to be as far as possible from the school building, so we went for a walk and I asked her quite directly as for me what they suppose to be wrong with me. Am I mental or what?
So finally someone had mercy and told me that they suspect me to have Asperger’s.
Even though it was one of things I expected to hear, it was a massive shock to me and it was hard for me to not show it.
The next day I had some other tests and stuff and then the lady who did all these fascinating interviews with me said she sees that I might have autistic traits, but all that I show isn’t enough to put me on to autistic spectrum. Then she was clearing things up for my Mum and me. That very many people show autistic traits, but they aren’t on the spectrum etc. bla bla bla, as far as I can remember she even said there is a connection with blindness and autism, so there’s like higher risk or something. Actually I know that as a little child, before 6 years old I think, I had much more autistic or autism-like symptoms. Like sensorisms or being easily overstimulated and others. She also said laughing that my interests are too many to look like in typical autistic person and that although most of them are not typical, they are quite wide actually. Which I now agree with. She also talked with my Mum and the lady from the boarding school, who still expressed some doubts about the outcome of the interviews.
The lady from the autism centre told me some things that helped me to realise at least a bit that things I feel, fear, enjoy are more valid than I think.
After some time though the staff from boarding school decided to make one more test. They didn’t even tell my Mum about it only when it was already done. They took me to a psychological clinic where one very cold and self-confident lady wanted to talk to me.
The school staff had to tell her about my love for writing, I enjoyed writing fictional short stories back then very much.
They were about a little creature I’ve made up. I called him Parpill. And he had different adventures. Most often quite childish, but also some maybe a bit peculiar, like when he was in prison. πŸ˜€ Some were horrific a bit, like when his whole family got sick with malaria, but nothing too bad, just things most children in their early teens wouldn’t come up with. πŸ˜€ My Art teacher helped me to project him. Her husband worked in a printing house so she got me some so called professional paper and booklets and she herself ilustrated my short stories whenever she had some free time and wrote them in normal print after I wrote it in Braille. I really really enjoyed doing it with her. Now I have a whole series of my Parpills books at home and I am proud of them although they are very childish, but that’s obvious I guess.
So to my big surprise, that cold lady from the clinic, after some very basic questions, asked me straight away: “You write about the Parpills, right?”. “Yes I do”. “You believe they exist?”. “Errm… sorry, what do you mean?” “Do Parpills exist?” “Surely not! Why would they? They are my own creatures created by me, I wouldn’t like them to exist, everyone could see them then and knwo everything about them” “But do you see them?” “No I can’t see obviously and they don’t exist”. That’s of course not the exact dialogue, only some bits I remember now, some more ridiculous ones. Basically she insisted I do see my Parpills and I live in my imaginary world and I should be more in the reality. So she told me that if I want to write anything, I would do much better if I’d write about our everyday life in the group.
You know guys, she couldn’t say something more wrong to me. I think that then my individualism was maybe even a bit too much expressed, but as for the circumstances and my age it isn’t a big wonder for me. But what I want to say is that I hated to think about myself as “a part of the group”, or class, or as an element of pretty much any community besides my family.
If you have any doubts yet, I obviously didn’t write anything about the group. But I also didn’t write anything about Parpill since then.
I don’t know when they told my Mum about that appointment, but I got to know everything about it years afterwards. I had already left that school and talked to my Mum about it. She told me they wanted to diagnose me with schizophrenia. And it’s still difficult for me to believe in it. Cuz… why? Or maybe Parpills really exist but I am schizophrenic because I deny it and claim I created them? Freaky world. I don’t get it anyway. Mum said that she was very irritated by that when the staff told her about what they did and she didn’t believe it either. So they kept apologising her and that they thought so because of me being so withdrawn and “overly imaginative” and because of the anxiety and that they know they did wrong and that psychologist was wrong as well, they know I don’t believe in Parpills.
Now as I think about it more, I am laughing, with some frustration, but laughing, but it really wasn’t fun when I got to know all that from my Mum, especially that I was in quite a crisis then even besides it.
Then they stopped with making up diagnoses for me, luckily. I am interested what would be their next pick. πŸ˜€
But my emotional issues stayed with me and sharpened. At the age of 15-ish I started to self harm. I didn’t have any meltdowns any longer. I cut myself and relished physical pain because it let me run away from all the MishMash inside me. Plus I could proof myself I am strong, at least with pain, if not mentally. It has always been my kind of complex, that I am not enough strong mentally, ’cause I haven’t dealt well enough with all that I had to deal. I also burned myself. But I didn’t want my scars to be visible, like it wasn’t because I wanted attention. I just wanted to manage it somehow. And i made myself ill on purpose, either to just be left alone and not need to do anything, as I was very depressed and even things like getting dressed were like huge challenges, or because I wanted home/not go back to school, or just for to self harm and maybe even die, accidentally, it wouldn’t be that bad. So I did things like walking barefoot on the snow on our terrace to go to school. Yes I know, really crazy things. I wasn’t very suicidal like hadn’t suicidal ideations, but often thought how nice it would be to just die and not exist.
I used I-doses. For those of you who don’t know what Idoser and Doses are, Idoser is an app and Doses are binaural sounds used with that app, that impact your brain like drugs do. They say they’re not addictive, but they make damage to the brain. I didn’t know it at first, I just wanted to use them to have some relief and also it was my way of rebellion. My school was religious, I started to be a Goth and turned myself back from God. I believed in Emilie Autumn instead lol. And wanted to be Wiccan. I didn’t realise that I am also worrying my family, who are genuinely and deeply religious. You can’t use drugs in school area. But I felt smarter than their rules. I was doing it. And no one, besides a few girls of my group and a few classmates with whom I shared some Doses, didn’t know anything.
And I practiced things like OOBE, LD and stuff, which seemed to give me some relief at first, but complicated things even more with time. And I think now that they also contributed to that my sleep is even worse and that I have sleep paralysis regularly. My Mum thinks so too.
After some time eople started to see that I do really strange things with myself, some nuns tried to talk to me about out of body experiences and lucid dreams that they are bad, that I shouldn’t use drugs wherever I get them or whatever it is I take. But I didn’t care and I kept denying that I take anything. Or actually I did care, I started to notice it was bad, but I didn’t want to stop, ’cause it still provided a relief.
I gave up on these things only when I started to rediscover Christianity and realised how bad it all is. Plus it was just my way of saying help me.
But with self harm I struggle to these days. Sometimes I may not cut for months, my record is about nine months, but it still comes back when I have a lot of emotions.
It also happened a few times that I felt very high and agitated, just exploding with joy, was alone at home, felt like I desperately need to talk with someone about it, but what I did was I cut myself. And I only realised afterwards what I actually did. Ugh…
I left the school at the age of seventeen with a master degree in stifling feelings. Sadly, I suppose that’s what I’ve learnt there the best.
It’s not that I only had bad things happening to me there. I would be extremely ungrateful to say so, but still, mainly bad things.
The next school year after I lived I went to the psychiatrist who was very helpful for me and, what I appreciated the most, honest and open. She finally called my problem by it’s name, said that I suppress all my emotions and that I have reactive depression.
It was four years ago. Now I still struggle with stifling emotions. I am conscious of it, but it doesn’t mean I don’t struggle. It’s always very hard for me to tell people what I feel, to open up to them and to express it. It’s hard for me to tell them what I feel to them. Sometimes I perceive talking to someone about my feelings simply as a disgrace. And sometimes I stifle everything before I can even think. That’s why people may think I am not honest with them, or even two-faced, cold and haughty. Moreover, I myself sometimes ask myself what I really feel and what is true about me. I am good at introspection, naming and differentiating feelings and see them very well in others, but my own feelings seem to hide from me so often or mix together so I can’t often even tell what exactly I feel ’cause it’s like a blending of many many emotions and I see them as from a distance. Or I can’t tell why even more often. I know a lot about myself, but some areas are totally unknown for me, and that sucks. It’s hard to work with yourself and process things when you feel like you don’t have connection with yourself. But I try, and I think I’m making some baby steps forward. Of course there are always three steps backwards and one step forward, but it’s always something. Especially that as for now I don’t have regular therapy. I talk with my former therapist on the phone from time to time, she always thinks about me and finds some time for me and it even happened that when I was in crisis and had noone to talk openly to, she was able and willing to talk to me at such crazy times like 6 AM, even though had so many other things to do. But she’s really very busy and needed to cut out some people’s hours from her schedule, as she has many clients and also other jobs. A few of them! But we talk like once a month and the rest of the work is entirely mine. It’s hard.
What I’d like to tell you in this post is that if you do this too, if you stifle your emotions for any reason, it’s not a cure for your problem. It’s inversely. It will only worsen everything. It’s a simple physical reaction. You can’t pull everything you feel inside. With time, there won’t be anymore place and you will just explode. In this way, or another. And believe me, none of these ways is nice or helpful to your life situation. I know it’s hard to unlearn it, but at least try to. It will truly help you.
For those of you who don’t struggle with tis issue. If you know someone who seems to be detached, like they don’t care for others or don’t show their affection, are cold, haughty or don’t trust you where as you think they should, because you are in relationship for instance, please try to not be judgmental. It’s very likely just their mask. It’s difficult, but try to look a bit deeper. Try to help them get rid of it. Are you still here? πŸ˜€
Congrats, and a big thank you, if you got through this post. It matters a lot to me. I can’t believe I wrote all that. I’m not really sure I did well, but maybe it will help someone. And I feel a bit lighter as I wrote about it. Again, thanks for reading. πŸ™‚
Ugh, wanted to write post with Misha, as it is his birthday today, or rather was, because it’s already past midnight here, wanted to pick a song of the day and write other stuff, but seems like it’ll have to wait.