Misery loves company.

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Written on Monday the 8th of April, 2019.

 

This week’s post was supposed to be about something completely different. It was going to be about how I finally got my own place, a two-room apartment with a long hallway, a tiny bathroom, and a kitchen that will be replaced (hopefully soon – it’s a dump).

But plans change. Things happen. Unexpected things. Sad things.

The night between Saturday and Sunday, my grandfather (my grandma’s husband, on my father’s side) passed away in his sleep. I won’t go into details about that, it’s not necessary. But it came as a surprise to me. I knew he was old, was having health problems, but… I thought he’d be around for at least another couple of years. But that was not to be.

My dad called me around 9am yesterday and told me. I burst into tears.

Today, my dad took me and my sister to see him one last time at the chapel. My aunt also joined us. Just writing this makes me cry. It was devastating and wonderful to see him and say goodbye. He was cold as ice, as to be expected. But I’d never touched a cold… body… before.

His skin was still soft, though, and he looked like he was sleeping. Both my sister and I expected him to wake up, squeeze our hands with that wonderful, warm grip, open his eyes and smile at us. We stood there for a while. I was resting my hand on his, caressing his cheek and his hair. He looked so peaceful. It was so strange to see him so quiet… none of us had seen him be so quiet before. He was always on the go, smiling, talking, fully present. His presence is now gone. It felt terribly wrong.

As we stood there, my aunt started telling stories. And she told us things we’d never been told before. I knew my father’s family history was complicated, but I had no idea just how much. It’s a private story, so I won’t share it here. I’m so overwhelmed by it, and confused. I really want to learn more about it all.

To make matters worse… last week, my grandmother (from my mom’s side) called me and told me that the mother of my cousins had taken her own life. I was stunned and overwhelmed. She and my uncle had divorced years ago, so I barely had any contact with her anymore. But to think that she was… it’s so hard to believe. And my cousins… I can’t even begin to understand the pain they must be going through. My heart and soul goes out to them.

Within one week, I’ll be going to two funerals. In the same city, if you can believe it. I almost can’t.

My family on both sides are in a lot of pain. I’m in a lot of pain. However, thinking about how amazing and incredible my grandfather’s life has been really helps. He was a true jack-of-all-trades. One could only dream of living a life as full as his.

I will end it there. The wound is still fresh, and I need to process it all, and get through this difficult time. I’m very fortunate to have wonderful and kind people around me to be there for me, and I for them. For that I am truly grateful.

I hope you are all well and safe. Appreciate the people around you, as cheesy as that sounds. Show the people you love that you care. Allow people to love you.

My grandfather was the epitome of love and compassion, and I will do my best to follow his example.

May he rest in peace, that beautiful, caring, loving, hilarious, street-smart, and incredibly talented man. He will be missed by all who ever met him. A truly special and one-of-a-kind human being. All of the above is an understatement. I’m just… so, so grateful for having had him in my life.

“Pas nu godt på dig selv. Og opfør dig ordentligt!”

– Erik Lenskjold

 

 

Thank you for reading.

When a friend abandons you: in retrospect

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First of all, I apologize for accidentally posting a post without any content. I’ve been so busy that I absolutely forgot that it’s Tuesday. Sorry ’bout that… anyway, let’s get on with it. 

I’ve felt abandoned by quite a few friends in my lifetime. Friends I thought I could count on. It’s heartbreaking every time. But, as years have passed, and I look back on what happened, I feel like I can understand – or at least respect or acknowledge – their side of the story. Of course, their side of the story is what I imagine it to be, in order to make sense of it all. 

I was bullied for most of folkeskolen (primary/elementary school), so from I was around the age of 8 to 16. I was the nerd, the redhead, the weak link. I was the girl the teachers liked (most of them anyway), the one who did her homework and did well in school. I was a very easy target. On top of that, I had quite the temper (even worse than now), so teasing and bullying would always provoke a reaction from me. 

I mainly had one friend for most of my primary/elementary school life. Let’s call her Marlie, out of respect for her. We’re still in touch to this day, and we’ve put the past behind us. Now we can just laugh about it. And, of course, this is my version of what happened, and I’ve also forgotten so much. Anyway, so Marlie was pretty much my only friend in my class for many years. I had a few other friends that were older than me, who I’ve known since kindergarten (and are still friends with to this day), but not anyone else in my class. However, as there were periods of more serious bullying, or if we’d had a fight, she would go to “the dark side,” meaning leave me behind and make friends with the bullies. When it was safer to be friends with me, she’d come back. And I’d always welcome her with open arms. 

Until I finally had had enough. Here in Denmark, we’re confirmed around the age of 13-14, usually on a Saturday or Sunday. On the following Monday, we all get a day off from school. That day is called Blue Monday. It’s basically a day where we can all go spend the money we got as presents at our confirmation parties. A common thing to do is to spend the day in Tivoli (amusement park in Copenhagen) with your whole class. Now, the only reason I decided to go was because Marlie had promised me that we would seperate ourselves from the group and just run around and have fun on our own. But when the day came, she told me that her cousin (who was a year younger than us and with whom I would fight over Marlie’s attention) was coming, too. She was just gonna skip school and join us. And it didn’t take long for those two to run off by themselves. That left me alone with the rest of the class who didn’t like me. And I certaintly didn’t like them. It got very, very awkward – because everyone wanted to have a nice day, but they didn’t know how to act around me if they weren’t being mean. 

When I got home, I ate my face (the only piece of the cake that hadn’t been eaten at the party – apparently no one wanted to eat my face except me), cried my eyes out, and swore never to talk to her again. 

So, the next day, when Marlie came over to me in class and said hi, I didn’t even look at her. We didn’t speak to each other for a whole year. Then we entered our final year of school before we were all to be scattered to either high schools or tech schools or whatever, and we decided to bury the axe and be friendly and civil. 

We pretty much lost touch right after we finished school, but years and years later, we reconnected on LinkedIn. We talk once in a while, but we don’t live close, and we each have our own seperate lives. 

In retrospect, I understand how hard it must have been to basically be the only friend of this girl who was bullied by everyone else. Because, of course, they often took it out on her, too. It couldn’t have been easy, and I don’t blame her for it anymore. 

The worst case in relatively recent years was with a girl I used to study Japanese with. We bonded almost immediately (she’s older than me, is married, and now has one or two kids – so I’ve gathered from online stalking). She became like a big sister to me. We were in the same study group, would hang out outside of classes, and we just got very close. At least, that’s what I thought. And I had no idea that I’d made friends with her when I was in fact having a hypomanic episode. 

We both decided to go to Japan during our third semester, to kind of get re-inspired to continue with Japanese studies. We went to Fukuoka’s Women’s University, as I think I’ve mentioned in a previous post. I’ll definitely want to write a whole post about that experience later on. But, for now, let’s try to stay on topic. 

Long story short: I went into a deep depression, and she abandoned me. From one day to the next, she simply stopped hanging out with me and stopped talking to me altogether. She’d barely even greet me when we walked past each other. She’d found some other people to hang out with, people who were much more fun to be around. And I felt utterly miserable and alone. And betrayed. 

Somehow I’d magically made some other friends there (two swedish girls, a belgian girl, and a few others) who were there for me during that awful time. But the fact that the one person I thought I could count on just left me like that… it was so hard. 

Later on, I was told that the girl had told someone that she’d basically just found me too depressing to be around. At the time, I was pissed. Disappointed. Really? You’re only my friend when I’m happy, but not when I’m sad? What kind of shitty person are you? I guess I never meant as much to you as you did to me. I guess we weren’t that close after all. 

Years later, I realize that it’s not that simple. She was in Japan, struggling with her studies as well, and just wanted to get the best out of her stay there. I was bringing her down, big time. It’s hard for someone to handle, especially considering the fact that she met me when I was hypomanic! She probably felt hopeless and scared that I might take her down with me. So, she did the only thing she could think of: leave me behind. And we never spoke again. 

People are not always as resilient and strong as we think they are. Sometimes we expect way to much of people – I’m definitely guilty of that. Even some of my closest friends have had to distance themselves from me during depressions, which caused us to lose touch for long periods of time. Yes, I blamed them, to a certain extent. But I mainly blamed myself. After all, I was the reason they abandoned me. I was the problem. Of course they wouldn’t want to be friends with me. I don’t deserve friends. 

And so on. 

What I’m trying to work on these days is lowering my expectations, both of others, but also of myself. I try my best to be a good friend to everyone, but I also have my limits, as do everyone. It’s so important to recognize when it becomes too much, then take a step back, but in the most respectful way possible. I strongly believe that a one-sided friendship isn’t healthy; there has to be room for both. And if, for a time, that’s not possible, then perhaps it’s time to find someone else to lean on for a little while. It can be another friend, a partner, a doctor, a family member. Giving your friend a breather can sometimes be a way of preserving a healthy relationship. It’s not easy, and, as my motto goes, communication is key! Talk to them about. Ask them how they’re feeling, and ask them if everything is becoming a bit too overwhelming for them. 

I’ve cried a lot of tears when people have just stood up and walked away from me. I’ve  ben sad and confused and been through a lot of hurting. It still happens, but rarely; and when it does, I’m much better at handling it than I was 6 years ago. Better late than never, right?

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

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My business card. The e-mail- and web address no longer work.

In May last year, I went on sick leave. The reason? Early signs of depression.

So, I had been stable for a year around that time. I don’t remember the last time I was stable for that long; for the last maybe 6-7 years, I’ve had steady interruptions of depressions, and a few hypomanic episodes. So that year means a lot to me. I was able to really focus on my treatment, and I finally managed to finish my BA. I felt happy. I met someone very special, whom I love so, so much. I tended to my friendships, and I worked really hard on not working too hard. I used the strategies I’d learned, and continued to learn new ones. I had a steady place to live. The fact that I was in a good place was truly proven when someone very close to my heart died suddenly. I was heartbroken, and scared that I might fall into depression again. But I didn’t. With the help of those who love me, especially my boyfriend, as well as my psychiatrist, I got through it. It was awful, sad, and devastating – but I got through it.

When I finished my BA in January, I celebrated by taking a little trip to Skopje, Macedonia. I’d never been there before, and it was cheap, so I decided to go. I had such a wonderful time – can definitely recommend for a short holiday. Then, reality kicked back in. I had 4 and a half months left before I had to move out of my student apartment. I had to start applying for jobs to keep my dagpenge from a-kassen (see previous post). But I was super excited to start my own business, and couldn’t wait to get started.

In the beginning of April, I started the Start-Up programme through my a-kasse. It was so cool, and made me feel professional and important. We were 50 participants, each with their own idea for their own business. There were start-ups for video game companies, sustainable clothing, sustainable furniture, plenty of different consultant companies… even this super cool guy who wanted to make actual pianos, not just keyboards, in a small, practical size, so they would even fit in small apartments! Great ideas all around. And they all really liked my idea, as well.

It was going great. Until I began noticing certain behavioral changes.

It got more and more difficult for me to get up in the morning. I started having more migraines. Negative thoughts were seeping in, and my self-confidence and self-worth started going down a bit. Some social anxiety was brewing. So, I sat down and wrote all those symptoms in a notebook. Then, I got out my notes from my treatment at the hospital, including my ‘plan of action.’ I compared the two lists of symptoms, and there it was: a complete match.

Fuck.

Well, all I could do then was to follow my plan of action.

Following the plan

At that time, I’d already finished the programme at the hospital. But due to long waiting lists, my first appointment with my new psychiatrist was three months away. And I needed help asap. I’d been considering going to the psych emergency room (where I’d almost admitted myself back in February 2017), to try and get some help there. I told my GP about it, and she told me to go straight there when I left her clinic. I’d been in that situation before, as I wrote about in an earlier post, Why group therapy is amazing. Once again, I was assigned a therapist for home-visits, a doctor, and a psychologist. I was mainly in contact with Espen, my therapist, who played a big part in my recovery. He got me a mentor, who would soon become one of my most trusted allies to help me navigate the system. I’m sure I’ll write more about her in the future.

I did what the plan said: I applied for sick leave; spoke to my doctor; got temporary treatment through psych E.R.; talked and consulted with my dad about everything; reached out to friends for support; and, most importantly, took the situation seriously.

Going on sick leave isn’t easy, though. I could go on and on and try to explain the system here, but I’ll save that for another post. Let’s just say it’s complicated and draining.

What about Maria’s Private Tutoring?

I might have made it sound like quitting the programme and going on sick leave was an easy choice. It definitely was not. It’s always hard to admit when you need to pull the breaks, and realize that you’re incapable of continuing with something you’re really passionate about. I put my heart and soul in it, and having to put that back on a shelf was very, very hard. The final hit was when my website renewed, and it was expensive, and I had to decide whether or not to keep the website running and lose money. I decided to contact customer service, and ended up cancelling the renewal, got my money back, and my website was gone. Boom. Just like that.

I did what I could; saved all of the content, and took screenshots of all the pages, so that if I ever wanted to start it again, I could remember what it looked like.

I felt like a failure. Now I had to tell everyone that I wasn’t starting my company after all, which created a lot of confusion. Everyone had been so impressed by me, and how I was going to be an independent business woman. They all believed I could do it, and all expected me to excel and succeed. I expected myself to excel and succeed. But having to tell everyone that I gave up made me feel like… well, like I had given up. Failed.

Changing the focus from failing to start my own company to succeeding in preventing a depressive episode became the next step. Getting praise from practitionors on how I had picked up on my warning signals and actually acted on them really helped. They were all impressed with the fact that I had accomplished something that many people in my situation are not able to do. Something I hadn’t been able to do before. The more I talked about it and thought about it, I realized that it was actually a massive win for me. I successfully prevented going into a deep depression.

Of course, the symptoms didn’t just go away. I’ve been going to treatments ever since. Still am. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m doing pretty well; I’m working to get myself back on my feet, and I’ve been stable for about a month and a half. On Tuesday, I start my 13-week internship at Depressionsforeningen (the association for depression and bipolar). Super damn excited! Two days a week, three hours per day. A good place to start.

Maybe one day Maria’s Private Tutoring will be revived. But not within the foreseeable future. My life demands other priorities at this time. And I’m okay with that.

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

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

 

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.

 

Let’s talk about bipolar

Disclaimer: this was originally posted on my friend Christine’s blog,
C.A.L.T
Post was written by me as a guest blogger. 

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

 

First, I would like to thank Christine for allowing me to use her platform to share this “story,” I guess you could call it, with you all.

Now. A lot of you – referring to friends and family members – already know this about me. Be you a close friend or an attentive, curious acquaintance, there is a high possibility that you already know. I’ve been very honest and vocal about this ever since I was diagnosed. It’s obviously not a conversation starter – unless it’s in a relevant forum – but it’s important for me to talk about. Mainly because so many people either don’t know what it is, are misinformed, or, as it turns out, actually know someone with a mental disorder, or have suffered/are suffering from a disorder themselves.

In Spring, 2016, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Affective Disorder (previously known as manic-depressive disorder, now referred to as bipolar) – type II.

Most of you are probably thinking: ‘what the heck does that mean? And why is it important for you to share?’ Well, that’s what I’m here to tell you!

Now, we all know that obtaining knowledge on something is only a Google-search away. Typing in “bipolar” in the Google search-bar will bring you plenty of hits. Here’s just a few examples:

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/bipolar-disorder/symptoms-causes/syc-20355955

https://www.clinical-partners.co.uk/for-adults/bipolar

https://www.rcpsych.ac.uk/healthadvice/problemsanddisorders/bipolardisorder.aspx

And then some in Danish, for good measure:

http://depressionsforeningen.dk/hvad-er-bipolar-lidelse/

http://www.psykiatrifonden.dk/viden/diagnoser/depression/bipolar-lidelse/bipolar-lidelse.aspx

https://pro.medicin.dk/Sygdomme/Sygdom/318434

 

You’ll see that much of what I have written below will reflect the descriptions in abovementioned articles. However, it will also include my own thoughts, experiences, and feelings.

Here we go.

Bipolar? Like Bradley Cooper in “Silver Linings Playbook?”

I was shocked. Or, as the kids call it these days, shook. I started tearing up as I stared back at the supervising doctor (/psychiatrist), dumbfounded. I remember that one of my first thoughts was, “but… I’m not violent. I don’t think people are conspiring against me or anything like that. How can I possibly have bipolar disorder?”

At that time, all I could remember knowing about bipolar disorder was from Bradley Cooper’s performance in the award-winning movie, “Silver Linings Playbook.” Cooper plays a character who suffers from bipolar. He shows classic symptoms of mania, such as believing that people are conspiring against him, paranoia, extreme energy, extreme anger, delusions of grandeur, etc. I couldn’t possibly see myself in that at all. This is where the “type” part becomes exceedingly important!

 

Bipolar type II – ¿qué?

The doctor slowly and clearly explained to me that bipolar is generally divided into type I and type II. The main difference between the two lies in the extremity of the “highs.” Put simply, if you’ve had just one full manic episode in your life, you’re automatically categorized as type I – and always will be. One manic episode = type I.

Type II, then, is when you’ve yet to have a full manic episode and have “only” experienced a so-called hypomanic episode. When I first heard that term “hypomanic,” I thought it meant “hyper-manic,” like, SUPER manic. He then explained to me that ‘hypo’ means “under” or “lesser” in ancient Greek. After that, me being bipolar type II didn’t seem that far off.

People who know me sometimes have the same initial reaction when I tell them about me having bipolar. Especially those who’ve never heard of this whole type-division before. One example was when I told a close friend of mine, and he initially didn’t believe me, because his ex-girlfriend had bipolar, and she’d run away from home because she was convinced her family was conspiring to kill her. She was hospitalized shortly after. That did not fit his image or experience of me at all. He’d never heard of the whole type-dealio.

Like the doctor did with me, I explained that there is a difference – and that there are, in fact, many kinds of bipolar, and that it overlaps with a lot of other personality disorders, symptom-wise. In fact, every individual case of bipolar is different from the next. Which is quite obvious, when you think about it.

We do, of course, have lots in common, us bipolar-havers. Which is one of the absolute best parts of the treatment program I was eventually signed up for. Talking to people of all ages, living completely different lives, who are suffering from the same thing as you, is incredible. It makes you feel less crazy, to say the least.

Which leads me on to the next part…

 

So I’ve been diagnosed – what now?

The process of being diagnosed was much more complicated than what I’ve written above. But before this becomes a memoir, let’s just say that I talked to three different specialists before the final diagnosis was made, and I was offered a 2-year treatment program at “Kompetencecenter for Affektive Lidelser” at Rigshospitalet. I agreed to join the program immediately, feeling a twinge of hope at last. Finally there was something I could do about it, and specialists were going to help me.

The program consisted of regular sessions with my designated psychiatrist, a rotary introduction-group once a week over three-four months (mainly learning about the disorder), and the actual psych-educational group with the same people every session (not rotary). These sessions were held once a week over 18 weeks in total. Oh, and medication, of course. Let’s not forget the meds.

Those two years changed my life almost completely. I’ve learned and experienced so much, and my view on life has changed over and over and continues to do so.

My psychiatrist was amazing. Brilliant woman. She was one of the founders of the department! I could not have wished for a better doctor to treat me.

The groups helped me through a lot. I believe that talking to someone who can directly relate to what you’re going through on so many levels is just as important as individual therapy sessions. Empathy suddenly gets a whole new meaning.

Now, about the meds…

 

Why we shouldn’t (necessarily) fear medication

I started taking stabilizers the day after I was diagnosed. Lamotrigine, 25mg. That dosage would be doubled every two weeks, until we’d reach 200mg, and then we’d evaluate whether to adjust it or not. It was super weird, starting on those meds. I’d never been on medication before, not like this, anyway. Birth control or regular pain killers don’t really compare.

Needless to say, the meds fucked with my system. Hard to avoid, considering you’re suddenly messing with the chemistry in the brain.

2016 was a rough year for me. 1) boyfriend broke up with me after more than 4 years; 2) was diagnosed with bipolar and started treatment immediately; 3) had to move out of ex’s apartment; 4) had to deal with university studies etc. etc. etc. The meds triggered several episodes, amongst them what you could call a “mixed episode.” This means suffering from symptoms of both depression and mania at the same time. Once I had an anxiety attack and started hyperventilating because I was feeling extremely excited (butterflies in my stomach) and deeply depressed (in my head) at the same exact time. It can also mean waking up deeply depressed, not being able to get up or eat or shower, to then in the late afternoon feeling crazy energetic and suddenly able to do everything.

It’s very hard to explain to someone who’s never experienced it. It was like my body was split in two, and the two parts were not communicating with each other.

Then came a hypomanic episode, which then led (as it always does) to depression.

In February, 2017, due to severe depression, my dosage was upped from 300mg to 400mg, and I started taking a very small dosage of antidepressants as well. It’s important to point out that antidepressants are very, very rarely used when treating bipolar, as it’s likely to trigger manic episodes. But, because I suffer mainly from depressions – long ones at that – my doctor and I decided we should try it.

And it worked.

For a whole year – from around March 2017 to March 2018 – I was in a so-called “stable state,” or “neutral.” I cannot remember the last time I’ve been stable for that long. Last winter was the first winter I haven’t been depressed in years. And this would not have been possible without medication.

Then it started going down hill again. But that’s a story for another time – and it’s actually a success story of me using the strategies and tools I learned in treatment!! (PS. Still on the same dosages.)

 

Why we need to talk openly about mental health

Or, should I say, why I feel the need to talk openly about my mental health.

Let’s talk about stigma.

Stigma is a result of ignorance. It creates fear and distances people from each other. It creates and supports existing destructive stereotypes and keep people from reaching out and seeking the help that they need. At its worst, it kills.

When I open myself up, others follow suit. It’s incredible to listen to their stories, stories that they may never have told anyone, or never really had a deeper conversation about it with someone who’s not a therapist of some sort. It’s the relatability, the honesty, and the inclusiveness of those conversations that creates a safe space to open up. It is a huge relief to finally find a safe space to talk about things that are stigmatized or looked down upon. No one wants to look weak, no one wants the world to see you as crazy or mad or even dangerous to society. No one wants to be discriminated against. Yet these are all things people with mental illnesses all face in one way or another. And that will not change if we do not talk about it.

When I tell people about my condition, they’re often nervous and scared of what questions they can ask and what they can’t ask. No one wants to upset me or make me feel uncomfortable. My approach is this: when it comes to a sensitive subject such as this, a subject relatively few know much about, there are no stupid questions. There are no wrong questions. I want to help you understand, or at least try to eradicate stigma, stereotypes, and just plain ol’ misinformation. So if you’re curious and willing to listen, then ask away. I really encourage you to do so. Actually, please do. It’s important.

 

Why I say “have” and not “am”

My name is Maria. I’m female. I’m 26 years old. I’m 165,5cm tall. I’m pretty smart and pretty funny. I’m not religious.

I enjoy watching TV, and I love dogs. Some of my favorite cuisines are Japanese and Italian.

I would love to travel to as many places as I possibly can. “At rejse er at leve,” as H.C. Andersen once said.

And I have bipolar.

Why not “am?” Well, would you say, “I am Asperger’s” or “I am cancer?” Or “I am broken leg?” Would you say, “I am bipolar disorder?” I wouldn’t. Because I am not my disorder. It’s a part of me, yes; it has shaped my personality, most definitely; but bipolar ≠ me. It’s an illness, something I will have to deal with for the rest of my life, just as I have been dealing with it until now – except hopefully I’ll get better at it with time.

I am not my disorder. My disorder is my condition in life. It does not define me as a human being – my actions do, as well as how I choose to live and be in this world.

Bipolar giveth, and bipolar taketh away. I’m trying to make the best of it, although it’s difficult AF. Thankfully, I have a wonderful support system, and I don’t know what I would do without them.

Sometimes it feels like all I do is fight for my life. But hey, I’m still here. And if you’re reading this, so are you. Thank you for that. I hope you learned something, and that both you with mental disorders as well as relatives and friends will work hard to talk about it. To be open. To share.

That’s where progress begins.