My attempt at starting my own business and why I had to stop. Part I

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This is a long one, folks, so I’ve decided to divide it up into two parts.

Enjoy!

 

In the beginning of 2018, I decided to start my own private tutoring company.
First, here’s why:

MentorDanmark

About 3-4 years ago, I worked for a company called MentorDanmark. MentorDanmark provides tutoring for students in ‘folkeskolen’ (which is like primary and lower secondary school) and ‘gymnasiet’ (higher secondary / high school). So basically from ages 6 to 19. The mentors are all university students, or students of other types of higher education. Another requirement is that they need to have top grades from ‘gymnasiet’ in the subjects that they would like to teach. So, for instance, I wanted to teach English and Danish, so I needed top grades in those. Their screening process is substantial, and it’s only gotten more comprehensive since my time working there.

I loved working for MentorDanmark. I had students ranging in ages from 12 to 18. They have a pairing process to match mentor with student, based on interests, subjects, location, etc. So this is basically how it works (or at least how it worked in my time):

1. MentorDanmark finds a match.
2. Mentor, student, and student’s parents have a non-committal meeting, where you talk about what the student’s goals are, and see if there’s a good teacher-student chemistry.
3. Mentor and student are matched.
4. Sessions are usually 2 hours twice per week, and usually take place either 1) at the student’s residence, 2) at a library, 3) at their school.
5. Student provides material from school. Mentor can also bring in relevant material.
6. Let the sessions begin!

That’s how it was back in 2015, at least. Seems to be the same basics today.

So we’re dealing with high-quality tutoring for kids who are having a tough time with certain subjects at school. Most of these kids have agreed with their parents to get a mentor, often even suggested it themselves. I remember one of my students, Carla, was so wonderful and sweet, and super motivated. She would almost always be prepared for our sessions, and was eager to learn. And she was very proud of having a mentor; she thought it was so cool. Once, I was on my way home from a session with a student, who lived in the same town as Carla, and we bumped into each other at a bus stop. She was with her classmates, returning from a field trip, I think. She was really happy to see me, and told everyone, “That’s Maria, my mentor!!” That made me feel happy and grateful.

Of course, I also had a few students who were not interested at all. It was obviously their parents who’d made the decision on their own. I was annoyed with them, because they were never prepared and it was difficult getting them to work. But I also felt bad for them; imagine being a kid whose parents have forced a tutor on you, and you have to spend hours after school twice a week, working with a subject you’re not good at, and probably don’t like, with some university student you don’t know. I couldn’t blame it all on them.

Most students were wonderful, though. And I loved it. Actually being able to see and follow my student’s progress and development from session to session was so rewarding. Watching them improve and feel their confidence growing was just… I just truly enjoyed the work.

The main reason I had to resign was because of depression. I was not diagnosed at the time, but I was pretty sure I was suffering from depressions and stress. And I felt it, but ignored for too long. So, I had to quit, in order to try to keep up with my studies. Both MentorDanmark and the families were very sad to see me leave, and left me a beautiful reccommendation. I teared up when I first read it.

Social butterfly in an international space

I’ve been very active in the international environment in Copenhagen for years, and have many international friends here. I’ve helped quite a few with their Danish, especially when people were getting close to an exam. I enjoy it so, so much, and they appreciate it at least as much.

I worked as a volunteer at Studenterhuset (a place where students meet across the many subjects and faculties at the University of Copenhagen. Super awesome place. Check it out here). The House is run mainly by volunteers, the majority consisting of internationals (around 40 nationalities).
One day, when a small group of us volunteers were sitting outside in the court yard hanging out, we somehow got to talking about Danish language schools in Copenhagen, and how they weren’t very good. They talked about the pro’s and con’s of the few different schools, and how stupid the system was. Then, one girl, named Valeria, looked at me and said: “Maria, you should start your own teaching business!”

Now, at first, I kinda laughed it off. Sure, yeah, I’ll just start my own company and give those schools some competition. But the idea ruminated in my head for a long time.

When I was close to finishing my bachelor’s degree, I started thinking seriously about it. I researched how to start your own business, and found out that it’s actually super easy. The hard parts are making a website, accounting, PR, VAT, taxes, etc. But the actual act of officially registrering your business, as well as getting a CVR, is just a click of a button away…

 

Maria’s Private Tutoring

I decided to take advantage of SquareSpace’s 14-day free trial, and created my own website. I came up with a name – Maria’s Private Tutoring – and asked a friend of mine, who was studying media design, if she would design my logo. Later on, I also asked her to design my business card. And she said yes. In return, I promised to proof-read her bachelor thesis. Very good deal.

I started taking courses at Københavns Erhvervshus (Business House Copenhagen), where I also got individual counselling from one of their business advisors. All for free. Apparenly, Copenhagen municipality loves entrepeneurs. Probably because we create our own jobs.

When I finished my BA, I really started getting into it. So, in Denmark, we have something called ‘a-kasse’.

The Danish word ‘a‑kasse’ is an abbreviation for ‘arbejdsløshedskasse’ and means unemployment insurance fund. When you join (become a member of) the a‑kasse, you are guaranteed an amount of regular income if you become unemployed. So the a‑kasse can give you time to look for the right job, pay your bills – and in fact help you to find a job.

– source

An a-kasse also provides different types of courses. My a-kasse, “Akademikernes Ambitiøse A-Kasse,” just happens to offer a bi-yearly course called “Akademikernes Start-Up.” To sum it up, it’s a three month course with classes on how to start and build up your own business. They have different companies and entrepeneurs come in and do presentations, and they even gave us full access to this beautiful, big office space in the middle of the city, in the same building as my a-kasse’s offices. There was a lunch arrangement – 500 dkk per month for all-you-can-eat amazing lunch Monday-Friday. Long story short, it was perfect for me.

And it. Was. Free.

Of course, you can’t just get in to a programme like that. I had to send in an application form, and they invited me in to an interview. He loved my idea. It was awesome. And I knew I was in.

Things were going great. I was applying for jobs (you have to apply for a certain amount of jobs per week to continue to get money from the a-kasse), going to courses, working on my company, getting to know the other participants in the programme, having lunch with them, sharing experiences and advice and recommendations… Everyone was very impressed with how far I’d already come. And I was one of the youngest there. They also gave me so many new ideas and perspectives.

My family and friends were all incredibly supportive and believed in my idea. I had a beautiful, user-friendly website. And I even started looking for and talking to potential customers. That’s right – I was that far in the process.

So… what happened?

 

To be continued next Tuesday!

Why group therapy is amazing

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It’s not too late
Cause you are not alone
I’m always there with you

And we’ll get lost together
Till the light comes pouring through
‘Cause when you feel like you’re done
And the darkness has won

Babe, you’re not lost

– Michael Bublé, Lost

In my experience, group therapy is amazing. Let me tell you why.

When I was first diagnosed, I felt so alone. I felt like I was crazy and that no one could relate to what I was going through.
Then I started group therapy, and found out that that was not true at all.

The first group I joined was a circular group, where people would join as they were diagnosed. So it wasn’t necessarily the same people every time, as some were just beginning, and some were just finishing. There were three instructors: a psychologist, a nurse, and a doctor (I think. Or maybe it was a therapist. I don’t remember). Sometimes they were three, sometimes two.

The way it worked was you’d join the group, and after 3-4 months, you’d have gone through all the themes, and they would start over. So for instance, when I started, the theme was “causes for bipolar disorder.” Then we moved on to “indentity,” then “daily rhythms and structure,” and so on. The theme of my last session in this group was,”children and bipolar.” That last one was how to deal with life with kids when you have bipolar. It wasn’t super relevant for me, but it was still good to learn about. Other themes were “cognitive difficulties,” “medication and side-effects,” “The Diagnosis,” “depression,” “mania/hypomania,” “mixed state,” and “who do you tell, and what do you say?”
Then, when they were about to start discussing the theme “causes for bipolar disorder” again, it was time for me to leave the group.
This was all an introduction to bipolar – what it is, how it’s treated, triggers, strategies, etc.

Meeting with and listening to people of all ages, from different backgrounds, who suffer from the same disorder as me, was absolutely amazing. Although we were all different, we had this thing that we were dealing with. All newly diagnosed, all basically equally scared, insecure, and confused.
These weekly meetings became the highlight in my life at the time – a time when my boyfriend and I had broken up after more than four years, a time when I was heartbroken, had to move out of his apartment, uprooting myself completely, all the while starting medication and treatment for bipolar. Aaaand studying at university full-time.

Yeah… 2016 was probably the hardest year in my life.

This introduction group – along with my psychiatrist – really saved my ass. Actually, before that, the psychiatric emergency room at a local hospital close to where I lived also played a massive part in keeping me from totally giving up on life. There was about a month (I think) between turning to hospital psychiatry and actually getting an official diagnosis, where I was in a very deep depression. I was also moving in with a stranger, renting a room in his apartment (he turned out to be a dick – but that’s a story for another time!), while trying to deal with my break-up and keeping up with my classes at university. I desperately wanted to give up. So, to the psychiatric emergency room I went.

They recognized that I might soon become a danger to myself, and decided that I needed help until I could start treatment at Rigshospitalet. I was assigned a doctor, a nurse, and a psychologist. The nurse would pay me a weekly home-visit (we went for walks because I didn’t want my flatmate to find out), and I would have weekly meetings with the psychologist at the hospital. These people kept me afloat and got me through a really tough time until I was finally diagnosed. I am so grateful for the people who helped me – I got so lucky. I’ve heard too many horror stories to count about mistreatments and people experiencing so much resistance from the system. I’ve just been really damn lucky.

Okay, so back to group therapy. After I finished with the circular group, I had to wait for about 3 months before I could get into what they called the “psych-educational group,” which consisted of a steady group of people meeting once a week for 18 sessions. I was the youngest in the group, but there were a few others who were only a couple of years older than me. I think the oldest in the group was in his late fifties. But the age really didn’t matter much; I almost hurt my neck from all the nodding, because their stories and experiences were just so relatable. There were times when someone would describe something I’d experienced, word for word. And it wasn’t just me – everyone in the group felt this way.

It was incredible.

We went through new themes, expanded on some from the circular groups, and focused a lot more on each individual and their personal progress. The end-goal was for all of us to work out a plan of action for both depressive and (hypo-)manic episodes. (For more on plans of action, click here). After learning about ourselves and our individual triggers, symptoms, and warning signals, we wrote out a plan so that we might in the future be able to prevent an episode from escalating, or prevent it from developing all together!

On that Tuesday once a week, I didn’t feel alone. I felt understood, safe, and accepted. That I still have value.

We were all pretty sad during the last session. None of us wanted it to end. It was really hard going from group sessions once a week, to just monthly- or bi-monthly visits with my psychiatrist. We all tried to stay in touch afterwards, you know, creating a Facebook-group and everything. But it only took a couple of months before that went down the drain.

Last fall, I got lucky. There’s a place close to where I live now, called “Socialpsykiatrist Center Nord-Vest,” which loosely translates to “social-psychiatric center North-West (Copenhagen). They offer different courses and activities to support people with mental illnesses or people who are socially/mentally vulnerable. I’d never heard of it until a volunteer-based organization I follow, “En af Os,” posted on Facebook about this place called RecoveryLab that was offering a free course. And they just happened to have a few spots left for a course that was starting in two days. I sent an e-mail, and voilà – I got in! A session a week, 12 sessions, great people, each with their own challenges, absolutely wonderful. I’ve gained more friends, young and old. I’ve gotten especially close to one girl named Anna, and we hang out almost every week now. And again, the whole group – including our two instructors – were really sad when the course came to an end. We were hoping to get a second course in the beginning of this year, but the center didn’t get enough funding for it. Maybe this Spring – here’s hoping!

My conclusion: group therapy has worked wonders for me. Each group has taught me something new, or built upon what I had already learned. Although it’s hard and nerve-wrecking starting over in a new group, it’s been rewarding for me every time. Yes, my psychiatrist can understand to a certain extent, but she will never understand the way others with bipolar do, or people with depression or personality disorders in general.

Obviously, feeling all alone in the world is not good, whether you have a disorder or not. But with depression, for instance, feeling all alone in the world can be down-right dangerous. Finding someone who can relate to what you’re going through is great. Being with a group of people who can relate is amazing.

It doesn’t have to be a physical group, of course. In fact, it can be extremely difficult – and often impossible – to join a physical group if, for instance, you are in an anxious and/or depressive state. But there are tons of Facebook-groups and online forums where you can connect with others. Support and understanding is out there; you just have to google for it.

 

Return next Tuesday for a post on my attempt at starting my own business, and why I had to stop.

Strategies to help prevent a depressive episode

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When the life you had planned
Slowly slips through your hands
When it feels like you just slept through all the best years of you’re life
When you can’t find your way
When each day ends the same
When you’ve lost the fight inside of you
Is there anything worth holding on to

– Cynthia Erivo, Anything Worth Holding Onto

Let me start by activating your imagination.

Most of you know what it’s like. It’s dark. It’s cold. It seems impossible for you to get out of bed. A long day ahead of you. If you could just have five more minutes…
… But no. You must. You must get up and go about your business. You may have overslept, maybe you have to rush, but the darkness did not prevail.
Most of us know what this is like.

Now, imagine this was every morning for a week. Two weeks. A month. Six months. A year. It’s not even cold outside anymore; the sun is shining. But you just can’t get up.

Now add some negative thoughts. “I’m useless,” “life is pointless,” “I hate myself,” “I’m not doing anything today, so what’s the point of getting up,” or “There’s just too much, today is too much, I can’t, I just can’t.” “Why can’t I just disappear?”

Now add a feeling of heaviness in your body. It’s hard to move; every movement is a struggle and requires enormous efforts. You feel 90 years old. And you’re just… so… tired.

Now imagine not getting up until evening. Maybe you can get yourself to eat something. You feel terrible for staying in bed all day. And you’re still so damn tired.

I could go on, but let’s hold it there for now. What I have just described are classic symptoms of depression. And these also happen to be some of my earliest “warning signals,” a.k.a. the first signs that I might be headed into a depression.

The point I’m trying to make is that it’s normal to have a hard time getting out of bed sometimes. Especially during the Nordic wintertime (am I right?). But for people suffering from periods of depression, it’s super important that we learn how to figure out when it’s “normal,” and when it might be early symptoms of depression.

I’ve been through an amazing treatment program at Rigshospitalet (a highly specialized  hospital in Denmark), at the Kompetencecenter for Affektive Lidelser. I learned so much about my own personal illness, e.g. what my early warning signals are, what triggers the different episodes, and making a prevention plan for when they might be building up. I’ve done other courses as well, expanding on all of the above. I’ve even managed to actually prevent a depressive episode from developing further than the early stages, which was a HUGE accomplishment for me. It has not been easy, and it still isn’t. It’s almost constant work. But it’s working!

My strategies

Let me share some of the best strategies I’ve used – and still use, to prevent a full-blown depressive episode. They obviously take time and practice, just like anything else. I haven’t perfected any of them, and I probably never will, but I have them, and I try my best to use them.
I use at least 4 or 5 of the listed strategies in my daily life, regardless of any sign of early symptoms. It’s called prevention, my friends, and when you suffer from something that does not have a cure, you gotta do your very best to prevent future episodes in any way you can.

Let’s get to it!

 

1: Keep track 

I use a mood tracking chart similar to this one:

Here’s the mood tracker in PDF-format:

mood_tracker

Mine is in Danish and more colorful:

We used these in the treatment program at the hospital. Back then, we had to fill out almost all of the boxes every day. But now that it’s just for my own personal use (monitored by my psychiatrist, of course), the only relevant ones for me are “stemningsleje” (mood), anxiety, and sleep. This way, I can keep track of any major changes that might occur, and prevent a potential episode.

Other great mood trackers come in the form of the people around you. If you have someone that you see regularly, preferably also someone who’s experienced both your highs and your lows, tell them about your early warning signs of an episode, and ask them to just be aware of any potential future mood changes. I think it’s important that it’s someone who knows you quite well, though. Otherwise they might mistake one bad day for a depression.

 

2: Get to know your symptoms

A good place to start is to make a list of every symptom of depression that you’ve experienced. Then, try to pick out the ones that are typically the first to occur, as far as you can remember. Some of my earliest symptoms are: more negative thoughts, I sleep longer than usual, I have less energy, and I don’t feel like doing anything.
Take your time and really think about what they are, and how to recognize them.

Let’s say I’m stabilized, or “neutral,” and these symptoms start showing. I recognize them and am aware of them. If I have one or more of the abovementioned symptoms for a day or two, it’s fine. If it goes on longer than that, then, as a precaution, I take action.

 

3: Make a plan

I recommend filling out a sort of “plan of action.” It could look something like this:

Here’s the WORD-file:

plan of action – depression

I also have all my plans written down in designated notebooks or on pieces of paper in folders. I definitely recommend having these in physical form. So in my notebook, it looks like this:

 

I know. You’re probably thinking: what the hell kind of language is that??? Fear not. It’s just Danish. Allow me to go through it with you.

So first, I’ve written down examples of early signs of depression. Negative thoughts and sleeping more are at the top of the list. These are relatively easy to notice for me, as I, as previously mentioned, try to track my sleeping pattern and my mood. Other examples include:

Anxiety
Increased irritability
More migraines
Difficulty eating when I’m by myself
Doubting myself and all of my decisions
Catastrophic/all-or-nothing thoughts

etc.

My plan of actions and strategies (I’ve added some from other pages of my notebook):

• Contact phychiatrist, GP, dad, friends
• Start writing symptoms down and try to grade the severity from 1-5, where 5 is the worst.
• Cancel/postpone appointments that make me stressed/anxious
• Perhaps full- or part time sick leave
• Go away for a bit; e.g. take a trip to Kolding (I have friends there) or Fuglebjerg (my sister, brother-in-law and nephew live there)
• Logical thinking: asking myself logical questions in certain situations, and then turn to others for validity.
• Work with accepting the fact that it’s there, and take it seriously.
• Indulge myself
• Go for walks
• In relation to the catastropohic/all-or-nothing thoughts:
  Think the thought through to the end. What’s the worst that can happen? (So far, it’s never been nearly as bad as my depression tries to convince me it is.)
• If I have started sleeping more, it’s because my body needs it. When I go into a depression, I have lower energy, and I need to sleep longer.

Etc.

I try my best to use all those strategies over and over and over again. However, I do think the most important one is to contact a professional asap, as well as the people closest to me. Even if I’ve just been sleeping 2 more hours every night for three days, and especially if that’s topped with other early symptoms. Since I’m still in the early stages of medical and therapeutic treatment (was only just diagnosed a few years ago), it’s even more important for me to continue with these strategies and my plans of action, as I’m not completely familiar with my patterns yet. Plus, depressions are not static; they’re not identical every single time. They change. So, for me, keeping track and creating awareness about it is the most important strategy.

 

I hope all of this makes sense to you, and that you might be able to use some of these strategies to prevent depressive episodes, or help you get out of one. If you have any questions, please comment below, and I will answer to the best of my ability.

And PLEASE, if you have any strategies that have worked for you, leave a comment below. Sharing is caring! ❤ Let’s help each other out, ya’ll.

 

What is self-worth?

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What is self-worth? What does it mean?

What am I worth all on my own? How do we even define or measure the value of a person?

If it doesn’t depend on the external world, then why is it so important?

Do I have to be worth anything? Can’t I just be? Just exist as I am? Or is it important to be worth something to oneself?

The following was inspired by a friend of mine.
She told me that after years and years of wanting to go back to dancing, she finally went to a class. It was exactly the kind of dancing she used to love. But she discovered that she no longer enjoyed it, and that made her feel unsure of herself. She always used to tell others about how she loved dancing, but that she just didn’t have time for it anymore. She liked how others would respond, and she liked thinking about how they thought of her, knowing that she could dance. It’s cool, right, when you’re really good at something, and you feel interesting to others? So what happens when you no longer enjoy it? If you’ve always identified with and presented yourself as someone who likes dancing, and you no longer do… it can feel like a piece of you is suddenly missing. And you start to wonder… Who am I now, then?

For me, it’s definitely drawing and painting. I used to be very artistic, and was always praised for my art. When I think about what I was capable of back then, I feel like I’ve failed. I can no longer say that I like to draw or paint. I can no longer put that on my lists of interests or abilities. I identified myself with being good at drawing and painting and being creative so much for more than half of my life. So who am I without it? What is my value if I’m not good at this anymore?

Accepting that even though you’ve changed, and continue to change, and your ideas and hobbies and interests have changed, you are still you at your core. The fact that you’re different, that you’ve grown, does not change the fact that you are still you.

Maybe self-worth is closely connected to identity. Maybe it’s about not being afraid of letting go of who you used to be, of what you used to be good at, of what you used to enjoy. It’s okay to change your mind. It’s okay to not like what you used to like.

You can still think and talk about how you used to love dancing, painting, reading, playing video games, studying, whatever. But the fact of the matter is, you don’t have to love it anymore. There is no point in feeling bad or worthless just because something does not interest you anymore, or just because you’re no longer good at something.

You’re busy with other things now. You have other priorities. Your life is different than before. So maybe self-worth is about accepting who you are as you are right now, not focusing on who you used to be. Comparing yourself to the you of the past, thinking that you used to somehow be better, is pointless.

If you wish to change something about yourself, really consider whether it’s about truly wanting to improve on something that’s meaningful to you, or if it’s what you think others would want you to change. If the answer is the latter, chances are that your self-worth will suffer.

I actually feel a lot better after writing this.
I hope you will, too.

Thoughts?

It’s my birthday

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27 years old. It feels strange. I know that I’m growing older, and I’ve changed so much, but I still feel like I’m 21 or something. I’m sure most people can relate.

I see people who were barely people when I considered myself an adult, and they’re all grown up and adult as well. It freaks me out – How is he so tall?? – How is she already in high school?!

I’ve been excited about birthdays for most of my life. But as I grow older, they don’t mean as much to me. (One year I forgot and only remembered the day before.) I mean, I still celebrate with friends and family. I invite family members (that I like) over for cake. On another day, I invite some of my closest friends over for… well, cake. Which has become a great tradition, and of course I’m doing the same this year.

I don’t really give out a wish-list out anymore. To me, the presence of the people I care about is a gift enough in itself. People’s time is so much more valuable, especially in this day and age. I don’t need more things – unless they’re consumerable, like a nice, organic body lotion, or some chocolates, or maybe an I-owe-you for a nice dinner or a trip to the cinema. In general, I’m trying very hard not to accumulate more (unnecessary) stuff. Second-hand shopping has become a true passion of mine, as well as recycling/up-cycling. It’s become increasingly important to me over the last few years, and I don’t expect it to stop. It’s also one of the reasons why I declared “Gift-free Christmas” quite a few years ago. Now, there are exeptions. One example: my parents still insist on giving me presents. However, my dad and I have come up with a wonderful solution: whenever I need something during the year that I might not have money for at the time, he will buy it for me and “subtract” it from the Christmas Present money pool. A perfect deal, if you ask me. Definitely reccomendable.

As a child, time passed by so slowly. A week felt like a month, a year felt like three years. Now, a year feels like a month, and a week feels like a day. In retrospect, at least. A day can feel suuuuper long, but by the end of the week, you think: where did the time go? – I find that scary, especially since I have such a poor memory.
My grandmother started a sort of log journal many years ago, writing down events that were important to her. I got to read them a few years ago, and it inspired me to do the same. It gives me an overview and a perspective I otherwise would not have.
This is the format (an example from 2017):

28.11    Nevø Mathias Ladekarl Frydendal blev født!

01.12    Blev klippet og farvet hos frisøren. – Julefrokost på kontoret (Aronsen).

02.12 –

04.12    Kolding

10.12    Julefest hos Ylenia og co.

15.12    Birkegårdens Haver med far og mormor

21.12    Afleverede Bachelorprojekt

24.12    Juleaften hos mormor, med Kenneth og Onkel Erik

26.12    Natten til tirsdag blev min cykel stjålet.

For someone who has serious problems with timelines and remembering specific dates, this sort of journaling is priceless. It’s a great source of reference for me, also considering my illness – it’s helpful when I need to remember exactly when I was diagnosed, when I was in the different treatment programs, etc. Nice and practical.

Back in 2017, when I turned 25, I decided to write a recollection of my life. I did have quite the quarter life crisis, and had this despairing feeling that I had achieved almost nothing in my life. Of course, looking back, I realized that that’s not true at all. I think it’s healthy to reflect on your life like that sometimes, as it’s so easy to lose perspective. Hashtag relateable, am I right?
Towards the end of 2018, I was thinking back on the year as being really terrible for me. But when I said that to my boyfriend, he was like: what do you mean? – And he proceeded to remind me of all the things I had accomplished, how strong I had been, how I had not given up when depression came a-knocking, how consistently wonderful of a friend and girlfriend I was, and how proud he was of me. That kind of blew my mind – that I had completely lost perspective to such a degree that I was convinced I’d had an awful year, when I’d in fact had a pretty good one. I finally finished my BA; I managed to prevent a depressive episode and put my health first; I had amazing experiences with friends and family; started my own company – and put it on hold indefinitely due to health; I traveled; went to 2 weddings; met many of Nick’s friends and family members; I moved; and so on and so on.

It’s been a year of learning, growing, and self-care. And I should be proud of that.

So what’s next?

Well, hopefully I’ll get an internship (starting in March) at Depressionsforeningen, which is a voluntary association that deals with depression and bipolar.
I’d also like to find a paid, steady job, not full-time, but maybe 30 hours per week.
I’d love to finally move in with my boyfriend. Hopefully we’ll be able to find a place this year.
And decreasing my dosage of lamotrigine would be nice.
I feel like those are my goals for my 27th year. I’m ready to work – just not too much.

Return next Tuesday for a post about strategies I’ve used to prevent a depressive episode.

Sometimes I wonder

Don’t feel like reading? Listen to the audio version here:

 

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like without my bipolar disorder. What kind of person would I be? Would I still have been creative from a very early age? Would I still have been as fascinated with movies, TV, and video games? I wonder what I would have looked like, physically. What kind of style and hair-do I’d have had. Would my body have looked different? Would I have had different habits? I wonder if I would have been meaner or kinder, stronger or weaker, taller or shorter, smarter or dumber. I wonder if my feelings and opinions would be different. Whether I’d still have cared about the world as much as I do. Would I have been more narrowminded, less inclined to travel, or maybe been good at math, wanted to be a doctor or a politician or a scientist, a carpenter, or would I have been a talented dancer, or maybe just super, super boring?

Would I still have fallen in love? Would I still have fallen in love with the same people?
Would I still have the same friends?

I think about death a lot. Moreso when I’m depressed, but still a fair bit when I’m not. I think about what it would be like to die, who would miss me, and that I’d definitely want to be cremated. It also makes me think about life and what it means. We make choices and choose different paths all the time. Life as we know it can change in a heartbeat. But it’s so hard to live in the now, that now that everyone is so obsessed with. Live in the moment. Sometimes I wonder what that even means. I mean, I am obviously living in the moment. I’m alive now. And the next moment. And this one. And this one. Until there are no more moments. There is a limited amount of those. There are good ones and bad ones and alright ones, you know, basic moments. Maybe it just means that one should really treasure each good moment and really feel it – give yourself away to it. But it’s not possible to do that all the time, I mean, even just knowing when something is a good moment or not in that specific moment can be impossible. You may only find that out in retrospect. So I guess… it’s good to live in the actual moment that is happening right now and not focus too much on the past or the future. However, that is of course also necessary at times. We learn from our past, and we plan for the future. The plan may not always work out, but it’s good to have goals. Things to look forward to. We all know this.

But do we – do I – live by it? I don’t think I’ve learned how to just yet.

I want to live a fulfilling life. But I’m still very much influenced by what society expects of me, and what other people think I should want and should need. What if my circumstances in life just don’t allow that? What happens then ? What happens then ? …

(Points for you if you get the reference.)

It’s funny. I quite often wonder about that fulfilling life. But I don’t remember actually writing down what a fulfilling life would be for me. So far, it’s all just fleeting thoughts and ideas in my head. Huh. I’ll give it a go.

…. This is harder than I thought it would be.

…….. Let’s start with values in life. I’ve written those down many times.

I value the people I care about.

Ok, give me a second, I’m gonna get my notebook out and see what I’ve written previously. Ah, there it is.

I value

• Always doing one’s best
• Doing something good/making a difference for others
• Having new experiences
• Intimacy
• Love
• Diversity
• Tolerance
• Authenticity
• Justice
• Honesty
• Practicing what you preach

So how do I apply those to create a meaningful, fulfilling life for myself?

I want to make a difference for others. (Which is also one of the reasons why I started this blog again). I want to make people smile and have good experiences. I want to show love and compassion. I want to be with the people I love. I want to practice tolerance and authenticity, and accept and appreciate myself for who I am. I want to help others feel good about themselves. I want to be as healthy, physically and mentally, as possible. And I want to live a quiet life, with as little stress as possible. I want to see more of the world, read, study, watch, learn.

That’s all my brain can manage for now.

Sometimes I wonder what my life would look like if I didn’t have bipolar. But mostly, I wonder what my life will continue to look like with it.