Heh. Life, am I right? … Am I right?

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Written on the 14th of October 2019.

 

I can’t really figure out where I am in life these days. I have a place to live, but it’s not my home. I have a job, but it’s an internship, unpaid, and part of the job center program to see how much I can work. I want to live a healthier life, but I don’t know how to get started. Every time I try, I fail. It’s so hard sticking with it. I want to write more and draw more, but my mind somehow manages to convince me that I shouldn’t. And I don’t understand why.

I feel like I’ve been living in this limbo for a long time now. I’ve had so many of these periods in my life, where it feels like I’m just waiting for something to start. Something to change. Something to trigger that spark, that self-discipline, that powerful sensation of suddenly knowing – yes, that’s it! That’s what I gotta do! That’s where I’m heading!

It seems like it always comes down to purpose. Purpose, purpose, purpose. But maybe it’s not just about that. Maybe I’m not just lacking purpose in life. What if it’s something else?

It’s like having a writer’s block, but for everything. A life block, I guess you could call it. I’ve been removed from my life, floating above, looking down, not knowing how to get back. Should I not be taking charge? Should I not be in control? Isn’t that what it comes down to, being in control of your own life, steering the reel, at least as far as possible?

I’m just sitting here on a chair in a small room in a shared apartment typing away on my laptop, with pain in my neck and lower back, having eaten a pack of biscuits instead of dinner, thinking about when the appropriate time would be to go to sleep. Usually I say 9pm at the earliest, unless I’m super exhausted and can barely stay awake. But on a regular night like this, no way. Earliest bedtime is 9 o’clock.

I’m constantly checking my calendar, to see if I have any exciting plans I can look forward to, as if something special needs to happen every day for me to bother with life. Or maybe it’s because it makes me feel better, knowing that even though I’m just sitting here by my laptop all evening, watching Netflix, waiting for bedtime, that I’ll be doing something tomorrow, or the day after that.

Nick is in the Netherlands visiting his family, so I’ve been home “alone” (one other flatmate has been home, and yet out most of the time). My nights have consisted mainly of checking Facebook, e-mails, YouTube, repeat. Sometimes I’ve torn myself away from that vicious circle and watched some Netflix (currently watching Jane the Virgin season 4). Once or twice I’ve allowed myself to play The Sims, but I try to keep it to a minimum. I get so damn addicted and I can’t tear myself away from it, so I end up not eating and going to bed too late. On other nights… well, I just go to bed really early. I’ve been extremely tired these last 4-5 days, and have been sleeping too much.

Why does life have to be such a big deal? Why can’t it just be whatever it is?

I feel bad for sitting in front of the screen all day, because I know it will only make my pains worse. At work, that’s all I do, as well – sit at my desk and work on my computer. When I’m home, I should be stretching on my yoga mat and do neck exercises, or go to the gym, or go for a walk – not watch three more episodes of Jane the Virgin. I could be reading a book, or drawing. I feel a little better knowing that at least right now, I’m writing – on my laptop, yes, but writing nonetheless.

Jane has a writer’s block. I can relate. Sure, I can write a blog post now and then, when I’m inspired or when I’m finally able ot get something out that’s been eating away at me. But I’m not writing as in writing fiction. My evil little inner critic is always stopping me, saying I might as well not start anything because I won’t be able to finish it anyway. Then I think of Jane, and I think: well, she seems to be able to pull through it. So surely, I can too?

Except, my life isn’t a telenovela. And I’m not Jane. I’m Maria, a girl with a bipolar disorder, who’s been tossed around and around and is feeling dizzy and disoriented. I receive social benefits while on sick leave, trying to figure out how many work hours I can handle without getting sick. I’m practically living in a shoe box with 99% of my belongings in storage.

Nick keeps telling me that I’m doing a lot, that I’m improving, that it will get better. Of course, a part of me knows that he’s right. It just feels so far away, like an unreachable future, too good to be true, too good to hope for.

I wish I could glue everything back together. It’s all so scattered. I’m so scattered. Maria the Scatterbrain. Scatterscatterscatter.

It’s 8.17pm. Definitely not bedtime yet. So I’ll listen to a sad, sad song, because it’s stuck in my head. I’ll Never Love Again, from A Star Is Born. Maybe I’ll actually do some yoga exercises? At least a bit of stretching. (I say that every night.)

Don’t wanna give my heart away

To another stranger

Or let another day begin

Won’t even let the sunlight in

No I’ll never love – 

I don’t wanna know this feeling

Unless it’s you and me

I don’t wanna waste a moment

oooooh

And I don’t wanna give somebody else

The better part of me

I would rather wait for you

oooohhh….

Okay. Gonna schedule this post to be published on another day, turn off my computer, and listen to some Gaga. And definitely stretch.

Maybe.

Lower dosage = less energy…?

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Written on Tuesday the 15th of October.

Maybe it’s a combination of my increased working hours and the evenings growing darker and darker with every passing day. Yet, I feel like I should be experiencing more energy, since my new psychatrist and I decided a couple of weeks ago to once more lower my dosage of mood stabilizers with another 25mg. This hasn’t been the case. I’ve actually gotten more tired, sleeping 10-15 (!!) hours every night. The 15 hours were just one night, but still – where did that come from ?

I know it’s only been a few weeks. I know the weather has been grey and cold. And I know Nick has been gone for almost a week. All these factors have probably affected my sleep pattern. Still, I can’t help but feel a bit disappointed, as I was finally starting to feel more energized and sleeping less. Thoughts and worries are slowly seeping into my mind… what if this is a sign of a beginning depression? It probably isn’t. But “probably” doesn’t really silence my worries.

I think I might give my psychiatrist a call one of these days, just to let him know how I’ve been feeling. Always good to keep the doc updated, especially when we’ve been making changes in my medication.

It’s still early days, but better safe than sorry, right? I haven’t been stable for that long, considering my history of frequent episodes. I want to make sure I nip it in the bud, if anything is actually going on. Can’t be sure. I’d like to be sure. Get advice from my psychiatrist. Stay alert.

People sometimes ask me, “Are you sure it’s healthy to constantly be aware of your mental state? Wouldn’t it be better to just live your life and not obsess about your disorder?” They could be right. But I don’t think so. Maybe when I’ve been stable and on low dosage of meds for several years, I can allow myself to not contantly be on guard. That’s just not my reality right now. I’m still working towards stability, structure, fewer episodes, and making my way to be able to keep a steady job. It’s just not an option to loosen the reins yet.

So, I shall continue to be observant, and have those around me be observant, too. Especially Nick, since I’m with him every day. And then hope that it’s just a passing thing, and not the first signs of a new depression. Fingers crossed.

 

Too much to ask for?

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“A normal life.” Is that too much to ask for?

 

I would love to live a life without constant physical pain. It would be a dream come true for me. It just doesn’t seem right that from the age of 20, I have suffered from pains almost as bad as my 82-year-old grandma, and it’s not getting better. If anything, it’s getting worse. I can’t imagine feeling like this for the rest of my life. And yes, I know there are things I can do to try to make it better. Exercise is the main thing. But exercise has always been difficult for me, and I’m scared that I might overdo it and make it worse. The biggest hurdle for me, however, is changing my habits and overcoming my obsessive thought patterns.

Now that I’ve started cycling more, my obsessive thoughts about sweat and BO have gotten pretty bad. I’ve been trying to combat it by bringing an extra top and sweater or cardigan, so that I can change when I arrive at the office or whereever. But with the constant change in the Danish autumn weather, it’s really difficult for me to get dressed in the morning. What if it’s too warm for this? Will I sweat too much? Will I smell? What if I get too cold in the office, should I bring a thicker sweater? Will this be too warm or too cold for cycling? Will all of this fit in my backpack? What if it rains, should I bring my rain suit? My rubber boot has a hole in it, my feet will get wet, should I buy rain covers for my boots, I need to buy new boots, can I wear my sneakers, no they will get soaked and ruined, what about my winter boots, will they hold against heavy rain, they’re the only winter shoes I have that are relatively comfortable and still looks good with more formal clothes so I don’t want to ruin them
whatamIgonnadoshouldIjusttakethebusbutthatcostsmoneyandI’vealreadyspenttoomuchmoneyonpublictransportandwhataboutThursdaywhenIhavetogoseemyfriendwholivesfurtherawayIneedmoneyforthatonmycardIneedtoexerciseorI’llneverloseweightandmypainwillnevergoawayohnoit’sstartedtorainfuckwhatdoIdowhatshouldIdowhatshouldIdowhatshouldIdo…

These thoughts go through my mind almost every morning, and it’s driving me nuts. I sweat a lot, ever since I went into puberty, and it’s always been something I’ve been extremely aware of and uncomfortable with. It took me most of my teenage years and young adult life to find a antiperspirant that has an acceptable effect, yet it’s still not enough for me. How do I create a daily exercise routine with these obsessive thoughts? How do I find the self-discipline to reduce my suger intake and stop eating so much chocolate and cake? How do I say no when people offer? How can I live a healthy life? What does it feel like to get up in the morning and get dressed for the day like it’s no big deal?

What does it feel like not to always worry about every damn thing?

 

I would love to have a paid job 25 hours a week. To have a manageable job that I like, to have a steady income, without causing stress or triggering an episode… That’s my goal for 2020. I want to be able to pay half the rent, and buy new rubber boots without having to scour the internet for the absolute best deal, and end up waiting weeks, maybe months, before the old ones broke until buying new ones. I need a budget that won’t be completely ruined if I need to get a new pair of pants or if I need more sessions with my physiotherapist or need to take public transport more than I usually do.

 

I would love to live in the same place for more than two years. Since 2012, I’ve moved 9 times. Moving into our own place in January will be my 10th move. Moving is one of the most stressful things I can think of, and I’ve been uprooted so many times that I can’t even imagine living in the same place for more than two years. I desperately need the stability and security of real base to call home. Hopefully, Nick and I will live in our new apartment for many years to come. Or, you know, at least for three years.

 

Is that too much to ask for?

 

I joined a writing/art class!

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A few weeks back, I watched one of the Try Guys’ YouTube videos where they go to a professional art class. (You can watch the video here.) It inspired me to such a degree that I went out and bought a sketch book the next day. A couple of days after I bought it, I saw a post on Facebook about a free writing/art class for people who suffer from issues with mental health. They had a few cancellations, so there were a couple of open spots. I immediately sent them an e-mail and signed up. The class started less than a week from my sign-up, and I couldn’t really believe it – I was going to start writing and drawing again!

That evening, I drew my tea pot. It was the first drawing I’d done in more than a year, probably.

I can’t tell you how wonderful it felt to draw again. It felt so familiar.

So, we’re five people in the class, and the instructor is an established author. We’re also joined by a nice young woman who’s doing a big research project on how art can have a positive affect on people with mental illness. At the end of the course, which spans over 12 weeks, we’ll be doing four workshops – two writing workshops, and two art workshops. After that, all five of us will have finished some sort of writing/art-piece, that will then be published in an anthology and be exhibited somewhere (anonymously). Pretty cool, right? Anyway, it’s every Tuesday from 10.15-13.30, and it takes place at the National Gallery of Denmark here in Copenhagen. It’s a super cool art gallery, very popular, and it has a small, beautiful park behind it.

The class is divided into 3 “parts:” First, we go to our work room, sit down, have some tea or coffee, and do a quick round of “what thoughts have we had during the week about last week’s exercises.” Then, our instructor (Sofie) tells us a bit about the art piece we’ll be working with, and then we go to the exhibition where the piece is. We each take a little folding chair and place ourselves in a half-circle in front of the art piece, and then we just take it in quietly for about five minutes. Then we do some non-stop writing, talk about different aspects of the piece, more non-stop writing, and another discussion. After that, we go back to the work room and have lunch, and then we do some writing exercises.

I actually thought there’d be more drawing involved, but no drawing so far. On our first day, however, I stayed at the art gallery afterwards and drew two different statues:

I’m working hard on getting the proportions right. I’m proud of how I’ve been doing so far!
I’ve also done a few other drawings since then:

I drew this from an old picture of myself. I focused on getting the proportions right, between the eye and the nose.
Then I did another drawing of a statue at the museum:

I spent a little over an hour on it. I also took a picture of the statue so that I can draw shadows on it later.

It is mainly writing so far, which I’m also really enjoying.

I hope this post might inspire you to get creative, and just have fun with it! I’m not really focusing on the result as much as I’m focusing on the experience itself.

Have a great week! 🙂