I'm in shock right now. All the feelings from 1,5 years ago, when I was depressed, are now coming back. I just saw him, my former therapist. And, in the irony of life, I've seen 10 episodes of In Treatment the last couple of days. And today, while walking to the supermarket just half an hour ago, I saw him. Fuck.
My therapist was a good guy. I really, really liked him. But honestly, I'm frightened right now. Not because he did anything odd when I saw him, but just because. You know, I had major panic attacks every time I had to go to his office. It was just... I don't know. Scary. He did great, but I still can't get over the fact that it all scared me loads.
I was walking. Down the last little hill before I you get to the supermarket. There were some cars coming up the hill, with some space in between. Just at a sudden, I saw a familiar face in the car. I always follow every car I pass on this way with my eyes, and I smile at them. Suddenly I realized who I saw. I couldn't believe it. I don't even know how to put this happening into words. But yeah. He smiled, I think. I don't know if he knew who I was, but maybe. I'm not sure if I've changed much in 1,5 years, I really don't. But suddenly I was like "Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Fuck. What do I do now?" And then I had to relax myself, telling me to breathe and not to panic. Yeah, that worked fine...
Damn, I won't get depressed again now! I was thinking about seeing the school councilor at UWC, but I don't know. I'm fine, ain't I? There's nothing wrong me, right?
No, I'm not sure. I am fine, I trust you. But still. My relationship with father sucks, and yeah. But I don't know. I've come to believe that all artists have to be a bit mad. I'll easily confess that I'm a bit mad, but still. Is there anything more? I don't know. See, on one side I'd like to be really happy and to have no problems. On the other side I won't let that ruin my possibilities of becoming a great artist and performer. No, I don't know.
Don't freak out, Sunniva, you'll be okey.
Until We Bleed covered by Meghan Tonjes
Showing posts with label psychologist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label psychologist. Show all posts
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Back On Track
So, I'm opening myself up to my friends. A little more for each time I see them. I think I should link this page to a friend. You know what? I actually intentionally let a friend of mine read this shit I'm posting. I'm gonna do it again – let myself out to people. Wanting people to know me. And I think this place is the closest to be me. Just a sec, I'll let her know.
Okey, that's the longest Facebook message I've ever sent... Yeah, I def have a life. Not.
What I was going to write, causing the title, is this: I think I'm on my way back. Back to where I was in late 9th and early 10th grade. Which is back on track. The track that made me depressed and just bad. 2009 was the year of hell for me, and I really don't want to end up on the same path that I walked that year. Man, I need to talk to somebody.
I bet I've already told you (not that I actually remember what I've written here) that I've decided to get my ass back into a therapist's chair again. Still, I don't like the thought that it's not the same person I saw for half a year. Will I have to start everything all over again? Can he read what the other psychologist wrote about me? Will the new therapist suck?
Why the fuck did you have to quit? Bitch. No seriously, I needed you. Maybe I don't need you now, but I still need somebody. Fuck. It sucks "losing" the person you told everything to. Or at least it does when we didn't get the chance to finish.
I wish you could've seen me succeed. Becoming as close as possible to normal. Because we had something going, we really did. Maybe we could've "figured it out", and both could see the whole thing as a victory. You could look at it as a succeeded case, and I could tell myself and everyone that I'm not crazy. No, I would've given you that victory of making me happy again.
You made me happier and better, that's for sure. But the happiness went away, and I bet you I'll end up on the bad path again pretty soon. We'll see. I'll see. Honestly I think you think that I would need more help. That I wasn't really done. But we had to end. We both hope that I'll just get the courage to try once more. Do you have faith in me?
No seriously, I love how the psychologist and I had our own little psychoanalyzing thing between us. "I think you think", "you think I think" and "I think you think I think"'s. Poor guy... No, we both learned something, I bet you.
Now I just need the courage...
Okey, that's the longest Facebook message I've ever sent... Yeah, I def have a life. Not.
What I was going to write, causing the title, is this: I think I'm on my way back. Back to where I was in late 9th and early 10th grade. Which is back on track. The track that made me depressed and just bad. 2009 was the year of hell for me, and I really don't want to end up on the same path that I walked that year. Man, I need to talk to somebody.
I bet I've already told you (not that I actually remember what I've written here) that I've decided to get my ass back into a therapist's chair again. Still, I don't like the thought that it's not the same person I saw for half a year. Will I have to start everything all over again? Can he read what the other psychologist wrote about me? Will the new therapist suck?
Why the fuck did you have to quit? Bitch. No seriously, I needed you. Maybe I don't need you now, but I still need somebody. Fuck. It sucks "losing" the person you told everything to. Or at least it does when we didn't get the chance to finish.
I wish you could've seen me succeed. Becoming as close as possible to normal. Because we had something going, we really did. Maybe we could've "figured it out", and both could see the whole thing as a victory. You could look at it as a succeeded case, and I could tell myself and everyone that I'm not crazy. No, I would've given you that victory of making me happy again.
You made me happier and better, that's for sure. But the happiness went away, and I bet you I'll end up on the bad path again pretty soon. We'll see. I'll see. Honestly I think you think that I would need more help. That I wasn't really done. But we had to end. We both hope that I'll just get the courage to try once more. Do you have faith in me?
No seriously, I love how the psychologist and I had our own little psychoanalyzing thing between us. "I think you think", "you think I think" and "I think you think I think"'s. Poor guy... No, we both learned something, I bet you.
Now I just need the courage...
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
I Can't Breathe
Right now I'm hyperventilating. Because I'm scared. Which makes me hyperventilate even more. Fuck dogs.
That's right, I was scared by a dog. You know what? I'm freakin' scared of everything. And I hate it. I can breathe now.
Animals scare me in general. Whenever I'm at my great grandma's, there's this cat wandering around. And at a sudden, in the middle of the dinner, I feel something smoothly swipe my left leg. Slowly... And there you have me, terrified. Dogs are even worse. I scream loud, and don't know where the hell I'm supposed to put myself. Yes, I'm afraid of heights. But animals are different. They're not scary, they're deathly frightening. So I start crying.
Through the past year or so I've been "developing" my asthma. It's getting real bad nowadays, and I've started on regular medication. Mainly because I'm coughing like I've got lung cancer, but my doc thinks it's asthma (I don't disagree at all) causing it. So now I have to inhale weird powder that might give me fungus in my throat (!) if I use it wrong. Welcome to my life.
What is bad with asthma, is that whenever I'm scared, or just working out, I start hyperventilating. I need loads of oxygen, but my lungs find that hard to do. For some fucking reason. And I can't breathe. Then I get even more scared. Fucko, fucko, fucko. Yeah, today I feel sorry for myself.
What am I really scared of? I don't know. Nothing. Everything. Myself. Or those around. I try to live a "normal" life, but I just feel weird. Maybe my friends don't like that I'm gay? Do they have a problem with it? It's weird, isn't it, that a girl wants to be friends with other girls that are straight? Maybe she likes me? Maybe she wants to turn me straight?
Yeah, I think I'll try starting to talk with somebody again after the summer holidays. I'm sad. For no reason. Sounds familiar, Sunny? Kind of, yes... Fuck. This ain't fanfabulous. This is life. And it sucks. I need to talk to somebody.
This post's been containing too many swears. That's probably not good. I thought everything was OK. Fuck. My father's cutting the grass. Again. I hate allergies. I hate medicine. I hate it. Ex-psychologist: This was my fifteen minutes of sadness for today.
That's right, I was scared by a dog. You know what? I'm freakin' scared of everything. And I hate it. I can breathe now.
Animals scare me in general. Whenever I'm at my great grandma's, there's this cat wandering around. And at a sudden, in the middle of the dinner, I feel something smoothly swipe my left leg. Slowly... And there you have me, terrified. Dogs are even worse. I scream loud, and don't know where the hell I'm supposed to put myself. Yes, I'm afraid of heights. But animals are different. They're not scary, they're deathly frightening. So I start crying.
Through the past year or so I've been "developing" my asthma. It's getting real bad nowadays, and I've started on regular medication. Mainly because I'm coughing like I've got lung cancer, but my doc thinks it's asthma (I don't disagree at all) causing it. So now I have to inhale weird powder that might give me fungus in my throat (!) if I use it wrong. Welcome to my life.
What is bad with asthma, is that whenever I'm scared, or just working out, I start hyperventilating. I need loads of oxygen, but my lungs find that hard to do. For some fucking reason. And I can't breathe. Then I get even more scared. Fucko, fucko, fucko. Yeah, today I feel sorry for myself.
What am I really scared of? I don't know. Nothing. Everything. Myself. Or those around. I try to live a "normal" life, but I just feel weird. Maybe my friends don't like that I'm gay? Do they have a problem with it? It's weird, isn't it, that a girl wants to be friends with other girls that are straight? Maybe she likes me? Maybe she wants to turn me straight?
Yeah, I think I'll try starting to talk with somebody again after the summer holidays. I'm sad. For no reason. Sounds familiar, Sunny? Kind of, yes... Fuck. This ain't fanfabulous. This is life. And it sucks. I need to talk to somebody.
This post's been containing too many swears. That's probably not good. I thought everything was OK. Fuck. My father's cutting the grass. Again. I hate allergies. I hate medicine. I hate it. Ex-psychologist: This was my fifteen minutes of sadness for today.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Low
And I'm down the road again... But I was outside skinny dipping today. Yeah, that was totally out of context. *Gathering thoughts* OK, let's look at this. I promised the psychologist to if I ever felt bad. And I keep my promises. As far as possible, tho.
Lots have been happening lately. I've had my final exams for Lower Secondary, if there's anything like that. Grade 8-10 (7-9 within British/American standards). It's been pressuring, but not bad at all. I actually ended up with an A+ on my oral exam (in Religions). The written one I won't know about until graduation day, June 17th. We'll see. But it sure has been busy, without that much time to "figure out life" and stuff. That might've been positive, to just put everything away for a couple of days, but I don't think it really works...
Naval - Yann Tiersen
I think I'm hitting the lows again. I'm really not as happy as I was just a month ago. Maybe I'm just tired. Tired of school, tired of friends, tired of people, tired of fitting in. Tired of everything. I think I'm going to watch a movie. A comedy. Something really funny. Because right now I need it. I don't give a damn that it's 11pm.
Yeah, that's also been a concern lately. I'm sleeping lighter now. And if you know me, and have slept by my side, you know I'm a heavy sleeper. A really heavy sleeper. But at a sudden I've been sleeping worse. And I can't fall asleep. I could fall asleep at 10.30pm sometimes. Maybe even before that. But now I'm not sleepy at 11. I'm not even sleepy at 12. I might sleep at 1am. No, the sleeping is getting worse.
I'm thinking about talking to my former teacher. Yes, I had a crush on her. That's not the point. She's over 40 for God's sake! No, I want to talk with her about my crazy year of 9th grade. I was a wreck. I was horrible. I was crazy. I was questioning. I was living and trying not to live at the same time. It was a really confusing time. Why do I want to talk about it with her? Because I want to tell her that I'm not as crazy anymore. That I'm better. Because she noticed something was wrong. But she wanted me to get through it myself.
I want to apologize. She deserves an apology. Because I really am sorry. And I put her through a lot. I put myself through a lot. I might've put the world through a lot. But here I am today. She deserves an apology.
The low is hitting me. Yes, the psychologist told me somewhat what to do when I'm feeling down. I'm not feeling horrible, I'm just feeling down. I'll make it through the two months of summer vacation, and then I'll see what I do. Maybe I'm going to look up a psychologist once again to really get through this, whatever it might be. Because today I'm clueless. As clueless music sometimes can be. Or, as clueless us humans can be when listening to music.
Yes, I think I'll try to get to talk with somebody again after the holidays. It's just to find the reason to talk with somebody. I tend to feel the need of a reason.
I'm crying now. I don't know why. But I'm crying. I'm an artist – a creative soul. It's beautiful, but It's a torture at the same time. I hate crying. I never cried at the psychologist. Almost six months, and no tears. I want it that way. I can't be vulnerable. I must stay true, stay strong. Stay me. And me does not involve crying. At least not around other people. These thoughts makes me cry. I've been using the verb 'to cry' far too many times in this section...
They say that you shall live like there's no tomorrow. Is there any tomorrow? When will I know tomorrow?
Lots have been happening lately. I've had my final exams for Lower Secondary, if there's anything like that. Grade 8-10 (7-9 within British/American standards). It's been pressuring, but not bad at all. I actually ended up with an A+ on my oral exam (in Religions). The written one I won't know about until graduation day, June 17th. We'll see. But it sure has been busy, without that much time to "figure out life" and stuff. That might've been positive, to just put everything away for a couple of days, but I don't think it really works...
Naval - Yann Tiersen
I think I'm hitting the lows again. I'm really not as happy as I was just a month ago. Maybe I'm just tired. Tired of school, tired of friends, tired of people, tired of fitting in. Tired of everything. I think I'm going to watch a movie. A comedy. Something really funny. Because right now I need it. I don't give a damn that it's 11pm.
Yeah, that's also been a concern lately. I'm sleeping lighter now. And if you know me, and have slept by my side, you know I'm a heavy sleeper. A really heavy sleeper. But at a sudden I've been sleeping worse. And I can't fall asleep. I could fall asleep at 10.30pm sometimes. Maybe even before that. But now I'm not sleepy at 11. I'm not even sleepy at 12. I might sleep at 1am. No, the sleeping is getting worse.
I'm thinking about talking to my former teacher. Yes, I had a crush on her. That's not the point. She's over 40 for God's sake! No, I want to talk with her about my crazy year of 9th grade. I was a wreck. I was horrible. I was crazy. I was questioning. I was living and trying not to live at the same time. It was a really confusing time. Why do I want to talk about it with her? Because I want to tell her that I'm not as crazy anymore. That I'm better. Because she noticed something was wrong. But she wanted me to get through it myself.
I want to apologize. She deserves an apology. Because I really am sorry. And I put her through a lot. I put myself through a lot. I might've put the world through a lot. But here I am today. She deserves an apology.
The low is hitting me. Yes, the psychologist told me somewhat what to do when I'm feeling down. I'm not feeling horrible, I'm just feeling down. I'll make it through the two months of summer vacation, and then I'll see what I do. Maybe I'm going to look up a psychologist once again to really get through this, whatever it might be. Because today I'm clueless. As clueless music sometimes can be. Or, as clueless us humans can be when listening to music.
Yes, I think I'll try to get to talk with somebody again after the holidays. It's just to find the reason to talk with somebody. I tend to feel the need of a reason.
I'm crying now. I don't know why. But I'm crying. I'm an artist – a creative soul. It's beautiful, but It's a torture at the same time. I hate crying. I never cried at the psychologist. Almost six months, and no tears. I want it that way. I can't be vulnerable. I must stay true, stay strong. Stay me. And me does not involve crying. At least not around other people. These thoughts makes me cry. I've been using the verb 'to cry' far too many times in this section...
They say that you shall live like there's no tomorrow. Is there any tomorrow? When will I know tomorrow?
Friday, April 23, 2010
I'm Coming Out
Diana Ross - I'm Coming Out
Yeah, that's probably the gayest song ever made. But I like it. Now, what happened this Wednesday:
My mother was driving me to my gymnastics practice, and while sitting in the car she just went:
– You've got some well thought out thoughts sometimes.
– Well, thanks... That might be because I've been going to a psychologist for the last half a year, I said.
– Oh... Well, I'm glad I got to know.
And then I got off for gymnastics...
So, after gymnastics practice my mother picked me up and drove me home. We didn't talk all "Oh my God! You're talking to a psychologist!!!" We got home, and in the kitchen we started talking a bit more.
– The reason I've been seeing a psychologist is because I'm a lesbian, I said.
– Oh... Really?
– Yeah...
And then there was this bad scary and awkward silence. I looked at her, and she smiled so weird.
– What?! I asked her
– No, it's nothing. Pause. – I'd really never guessed that...
So I assured her I am, and we started talking about our weird family. And then it was over.
I'm done! I'm freakin' done with it! I came out to my mother!
Yeah, this is the reason why I'm on a current high right now. But I'm done! It's weird, but it's real.
BJ Thomas - Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head
Yeah, that's probably the gayest song ever made. But I like it. Now, what happened this Wednesday:
My mother was driving me to my gymnastics practice, and while sitting in the car she just went:
– You've got some well thought out thoughts sometimes.
– Well, thanks... That might be because I've been going to a psychologist for the last half a year, I said.
– Oh... Well, I'm glad I got to know.
And then I got off for gymnastics...
So, after gymnastics practice my mother picked me up and drove me home. We didn't talk all "Oh my God! You're talking to a psychologist!!!" We got home, and in the kitchen we started talking a bit more.
– The reason I've been seeing a psychologist is because I'm a lesbian, I said.
– Oh... Really?
– Yeah...
And then there was this bad scary and awkward silence. I looked at her, and she smiled so weird.
– What?! I asked her
– No, it's nothing. Pause. – I'd really never guessed that...
So I assured her I am, and we started talking about our weird family. And then it was over.
I'm done! I'm freakin' done with it! I came out to my mother!
Yeah, this is the reason why I'm on a current high right now. But I'm done! It's weird, but it's real.
BJ Thomas - Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head
Friday, April 16, 2010
The End Or The Start
Meghan Tonjes - The End
Yeah, I think we all need some music today/tonight(/whenever you're reading this). Always, actually. And it fits this day. Every day actually.
Yesterday I had my last session with the psychologist. Which means I'm done. I'm freakin' done! No more "missing" the buss, no restless hours thinking about what some dude I don't even know thinks about me. I don't need to think through everything a thousand times and answer weird questions. And I didn't need to break the deal. He finished it, so I was left with no choice.
To be honest I felt so good after that last time. We talked seriously, we talked weird, we were right and wrong all over. He told me his "thesis's", letting me into the process of deliberate if they were good or bad. And now I know what he really thinks, and what he was left with after this period of almost half a year.
I'm grateful. I'm so grateful it's almost as I don't understand it myself. But I really am. Who "me" would've been if it wasn't for this, I don't even want to know. Bad, I guess. So yes, it's helped me. A lot.
What's happening further? I have no idea. He asked me whether I'd ask for help if I needed it later, and if it's gotten easier. I was a wreck after every session for a while only because I was terrified of going there... To ask for help might not be the easiest for me, but hopefully some of the scary is gone now, as I've seen "how it is". But I really hope this will be the first and last time ever no matter what.
Me ending up as a wreck again is what scares me the most, I think. But when I'm able to go straight to the wrong end, I guess it's possible to go to the right end as well. That sounded weird, but whatever.
Remember the feeling. If I can remember this feeling, I think I can stay happy. The key to happiness is more complicated than x+2=5.
The Killers - I Can't Stay
Go dance!
Yeah, I think we all need some music today/tonight(/whenever you're reading this). Always, actually. And it fits this day. Every day actually.
Yesterday I had my last session with the psychologist. Which means I'm done. I'm freakin' done! No more "missing" the buss, no restless hours thinking about what some dude I don't even know thinks about me. I don't need to think through everything a thousand times and answer weird questions. And I didn't need to break the deal. He finished it, so I was left with no choice.
To be honest I felt so good after that last time. We talked seriously, we talked weird, we were right and wrong all over. He told me his "thesis's", letting me into the process of deliberate if they were good or bad. And now I know what he really thinks, and what he was left with after this period of almost half a year.
I'm grateful. I'm so grateful it's almost as I don't understand it myself. But I really am. Who "me" would've been if it wasn't for this, I don't even want to know. Bad, I guess. So yes, it's helped me. A lot.
What's happening further? I have no idea. He asked me whether I'd ask for help if I needed it later, and if it's gotten easier. I was a wreck after every session for a while only because I was terrified of going there... To ask for help might not be the easiest for me, but hopefully some of the scary is gone now, as I've seen "how it is". But I really hope this will be the first and last time ever no matter what.
Me ending up as a wreck again is what scares me the most, I think. But when I'm able to go straight to the wrong end, I guess it's possible to go to the right end as well. That sounded weird, but whatever.
Remember the feeling. If I can remember this feeling, I think I can stay happy. The key to happiness is more complicated than x+2=5.
The Killers - I Can't Stay
Go dance!
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Session Filed "Scary"
So, yet another day passed, yet another session done. Weird...
Today I was at his once again. We talked, we analyzed (I think we got our own psychoanalyzing club...), we wondered, and we talked even more. I think this session has been the longest thus far. At least it felt that way. Not so sure whether that's a good or a bad thing, but whatever.
Last time we decided that this session was to be about my family. Or, I asked if we could so. Because he kind of wanted me to be done. Poor guy, now I totally messed that up for him. Because I actually told him. That I was suicidal. Once.
I'm definitely low on sleep, and this day has been marked by that. When walking up to his office, I just had to stop for a second. I got tears in my eyes, wondering how I could possibly tell him this. The anxiety I've had before "invaded" me, and by a sudden I regret the whole thing. Why should I even care going in? But I did.
He could definitely see it. Smart as he is, he got that this was my way of showing him I wanted to tell him something. He asked. I said, "I want to tell you something, but I can't say it." So he suggested getting back to it. It's not like you're supposed to freak people out three minutes after you've met them.
We talked about my family. How my relationship with my grandfather is rather bad. How I'm terrified about my future. I don't even know if I'll have a real family around me ten years from now... Only future will tell. I really do have a bad relationship with them all. But I can't really see how it's supposed to become any better, as I've said before. If I'm to look at it myself, I'll ask if I really want any relationship with my family later in life. Maybe I feel I'm too vulnerable to manage hoping.
After a while he wanted to know what I wanted to tell him. So I spent 15 minutes trying to say it without saying it directly. In stead of sounding like it was supposed to, it sounded like I was about to say my father or grandfather raped me. Which wasn't the case. But trust me, it really sounded like that was the deal. He got it in the end, though.
"Sometimes I just wish I could disappear. Like, especially this Christmas." That's what I said, adding a lot extra, though, as I always do. But that's what I said. Then he got it. Thankfully.
I'm not going to go more into this part. My apologize, or blessing, depending on how you look at it and what's your outcome. Because I tend to be quite insensitive sometimes, and that might easily make people even more sad than this blog has already caused by it's nature. But we talked about this subject for a while, touching other things as well and putting everything into one (That sounds weird, and I'm totally aware).
Hopefully he gets me. I think he does. Though I can guarantee you I'm difficult to understand. So anything over 35% is approved. Maybe he'll let me understand how to get out of this mess I'm creating for myself. I'm crossing my fingers.
Today I was at his once again. We talked, we analyzed (I think we got our own psychoanalyzing club...), we wondered, and we talked even more. I think this session has been the longest thus far. At least it felt that way. Not so sure whether that's a good or a bad thing, but whatever.
Last time we decided that this session was to be about my family. Or, I asked if we could so. Because he kind of wanted me to be done. Poor guy, now I totally messed that up for him. Because I actually told him. That I was suicidal. Once.
I'm definitely low on sleep, and this day has been marked by that. When walking up to his office, I just had to stop for a second. I got tears in my eyes, wondering how I could possibly tell him this. The anxiety I've had before "invaded" me, and by a sudden I regret the whole thing. Why should I even care going in? But I did.
He could definitely see it. Smart as he is, he got that this was my way of showing him I wanted to tell him something. He asked. I said, "I want to tell you something, but I can't say it." So he suggested getting back to it. It's not like you're supposed to freak people out three minutes after you've met them.
We talked about my family. How my relationship with my grandfather is rather bad. How I'm terrified about my future. I don't even know if I'll have a real family around me ten years from now... Only future will tell. I really do have a bad relationship with them all. But I can't really see how it's supposed to become any better, as I've said before. If I'm to look at it myself, I'll ask if I really want any relationship with my family later in life. Maybe I feel I'm too vulnerable to manage hoping.
After a while he wanted to know what I wanted to tell him. So I spent 15 minutes trying to say it without saying it directly. In stead of sounding like it was supposed to, it sounded like I was about to say my father or grandfather raped me. Which wasn't the case. But trust me, it really sounded like that was the deal. He got it in the end, though.
"Sometimes I just wish I could disappear. Like, especially this Christmas." That's what I said, adding a lot extra, though, as I always do. But that's what I said. Then he got it. Thankfully.
I'm not going to go more into this part. My apologize, or blessing, depending on how you look at it and what's your outcome. Because I tend to be quite insensitive sometimes, and that might easily make people even more sad than this blog has already caused by it's nature. But we talked about this subject for a while, touching other things as well and putting everything into one (That sounds weird, and I'm totally aware).
Hopefully he gets me. I think he does. Though I can guarantee you I'm difficult to understand. So anything over 35% is approved. Maybe he'll let me understand how to get out of this mess I'm creating for myself. I'm crossing my fingers.
Monday, April 5, 2010
What To Tell The Psychologist Tomorrow
Now, here's my list. Totally just for my own randomness, but if you tag along, you do so. I just can't find anywhere else to write at the moment.
What I should tell the psych tomorrow:
My relationship with my father and grandparents sucks. I can't see how it's going to improve, and I have no idea what to do with it. Right now the only thing I can look at as an option, is to completely shut down my relationship with them. Not talk to them, not involving in their business. And, most importantly, not let them disturb my life.
I feel horrible sometimes. This one has to do with the first one, but it's really an issue in itself. When I'm around my father, grandfather and grandmother, I feel horrible. I end up thinking thoughts I really shouldn't think, and those thoughts could really scare the bravest. It's ruining me sometimes, and I can walk for days thinking solely about this case. It's not helping them either, I guess. Even though they try to change my feelings for them, it's really not working. Maybe, I don't know, but maybe they're really touched by this too. But it's not helping me, no matter what. Still, I don't want to "bring them down with me". Am I thinking weird?
I should confess. I should confess I was suicidal. Does it really matter? Yes, I guess it does. So I want to get done with it. Let it go, let it flow.
I wish I was done with it all. Maybe this will be the last time. I can't be at his forever. I got to live my own life, and learn how to deal with things happening. Become free.
Maybe it isn't freedom. Maybe it is. I can't know that for now. Neither can I choose what it is, ending this thing. But I really hope it's freedom knocking on my door when I say "goodbye" for the last time. Wish me luck on becoming free. I'll probably need it...
Why am I chasing freedom and solitude? Why do I feel captured?
What I should tell the psych tomorrow:
My relationship with my father and grandparents sucks. I can't see how it's going to improve, and I have no idea what to do with it. Right now the only thing I can look at as an option, is to completely shut down my relationship with them. Not talk to them, not involving in their business. And, most importantly, not let them disturb my life.
I feel horrible sometimes. This one has to do with the first one, but it's really an issue in itself. When I'm around my father, grandfather and grandmother, I feel horrible. I end up thinking thoughts I really shouldn't think, and those thoughts could really scare the bravest. It's ruining me sometimes, and I can walk for days thinking solely about this case. It's not helping them either, I guess. Even though they try to change my feelings for them, it's really not working. Maybe, I don't know, but maybe they're really touched by this too. But it's not helping me, no matter what. Still, I don't want to "bring them down with me". Am I thinking weird?
I should confess. I should confess I was suicidal. Does it really matter? Yes, I guess it does. So I want to get done with it. Let it go, let it flow.
I wish I was done with it all. Maybe this will be the last time. I can't be at his forever. I got to live my own life, and learn how to deal with things happening. Become free.
Maybe it isn't freedom. Maybe it is. I can't know that for now. Neither can I choose what it is, ending this thing. But I really hope it's freedom knocking on my door when I say "goodbye" for the last time. Wish me luck on becoming free. I'll probably need it...
Why am I chasing freedom and solitude? Why do I feel captured?
Thursday, February 4, 2010
My Little Gay World
This is crazy. Or, my life is crazy. At least a little. Or maybe it isn't, I just want it to be. And I use it as an excuse for not blogging the last couple of weeks.
Actually, I don't need an excuse. I'm the one deciding. And I decided to not put a post up because I've really felt like crap these past two weeks. You just know when you should just lock yourself inside your room and listen to music and not torturing other people with your own shit. I really don't. But I (sort of) did this time.
But here I am. Once again. I'm torn into pieces. I'm a total mess, as usual. Or... It's actually moving forward. I'm learning to accept myself for who I am. But it's going slowly. And it's not easy at all. Anyway, this is what's been going on:
I told one of my close friends that I'm seeing a therapist. She's OK with that, and she didn't begin to dig down deep into why. But I also found out she doesn't "approve" homosexuality. Yes, I've known her for quite some years now, and I know she isn't that a liberal person. Her beliefs set quite a standard for her, so I'm not surprised to finally find out what she really thinks. And even though she isn't accepting gays at the moment, I know that she is a person who can see good in people. It kind of hurts when I know one of my closest friends dislike homosexuality, but I can live with it.
Another friend of mine also got something to say regarding gays. From earlier experiences I've discovered that she got some strong opinions on certain subjects, but I actually haven't heard her criticize homosexuality before to this date. But today she told me, as well as her best friend (being there with us), her stands on gay marriage. As about everyone in her church she's against. No surprise after all, but I didn't expect her to say that a person's sexuality can be changed.
For my friend to say that all gays, including me, can change, really hurts. Changing a person's sexuality is in my eyes not possible. And when you get that thrown into your face, no matter if you're out or not, that's just... No, I don't like it. But I was so happy when her best friend, who's also a friend of mine, said that you "really can't change it. You're just born that way." But as said, I know some of my friends, and a whole bunch of my family, aren't accepting homosexuality. Yes, it hurts. But I can't sit on that the rest of my life. I got to build my own life, and live it how I want it to be.
So, except the gay bashing and a mentally roller coaster ride, I've been talking with the psych again. Well, I guess this is the major thing causing the roller coaster, but whatever. You get the point. Anyway: This Tuesday I was at the psych again. I had, as the time before, promised myself that this was the day I would say "I'm gay" to somebody. And guess if that happened? Nope...
It's getting better, though. I actually said "I like girls" like 10 times in one session! For me that's almost unbelievable. But I did it. And it actually released some of the weight on my shoulders. I'm not sure if that is how it will be - that my stress/anxiety level will be at this point or lower for the rest of my life - but hopefully I'll not end up as horrible as I've been the last couple of weeks ever again. Still, I don't know how it will go, but maybe I got a somewhat more positive view on it all now.
A little side note on the psych: Today, in studies class, my teacher came up to me. She was the one I had to tell I'm seeing a psychologist so I won't have to tell my parents, and she's been acting weird and over-caring since. And that's been quite annoying. But what she told me today, that's not annoying at all. That's just freaky.
"So, are you still seeing the psychologist? I haven't seen you skip school in the last couple of weeks..." she said to me.
"Yes, I got some sessions after school."
"OK, then. I guess that's for the best..."
"Yeah... Sure." And no, I was not to mention that I'll skip an hour and a half in 14 days. You're to take every day as it comes, right?
"Is it OK to talk to 'Henry' then?" my teacher keeps on.
"Yeah... Guess so..."
"You know, I know him, you see. And he's very easy to talk to." And no, I did not know that...
"Well, I guess there's a reason he's a psychologist..."
"Sure, but it's not everyone it's as easy to talk to."
"No, guess not," I finish.
Scary! And I thought I had stopped thinking all conspiracies, because that's what's for the best... Apparently that's not a fact. Because I've actually thought about that. He could know someone I know as well. And that's scary. And freaky.
Well, it's just to wait for the future to tell what will happen... Sorry about writing miles, but this might become my self biography someday. And that book got to be with some pages!
Actually, I don't need an excuse. I'm the one deciding. And I decided to not put a post up because I've really felt like crap these past two weeks. You just know when you should just lock yourself inside your room and listen to music and not torturing other people with your own shit. I really don't. But I (sort of) did this time.
But here I am. Once again. I'm torn into pieces. I'm a total mess, as usual. Or... It's actually moving forward. I'm learning to accept myself for who I am. But it's going slowly. And it's not easy at all. Anyway, this is what's been going on:
I told one of my close friends that I'm seeing a therapist. She's OK with that, and she didn't begin to dig down deep into why. But I also found out she doesn't "approve" homosexuality. Yes, I've known her for quite some years now, and I know she isn't that a liberal person. Her beliefs set quite a standard for her, so I'm not surprised to finally find out what she really thinks. And even though she isn't accepting gays at the moment, I know that she is a person who can see good in people. It kind of hurts when I know one of my closest friends dislike homosexuality, but I can live with it.
Another friend of mine also got something to say regarding gays. From earlier experiences I've discovered that she got some strong opinions on certain subjects, but I actually haven't heard her criticize homosexuality before to this date. But today she told me, as well as her best friend (being there with us), her stands on gay marriage. As about everyone in her church she's against. No surprise after all, but I didn't expect her to say that a person's sexuality can be changed.
For my friend to say that all gays, including me, can change, really hurts. Changing a person's sexuality is in my eyes not possible. And when you get that thrown into your face, no matter if you're out or not, that's just... No, I don't like it. But I was so happy when her best friend, who's also a friend of mine, said that you "really can't change it. You're just born that way." But as said, I know some of my friends, and a whole bunch of my family, aren't accepting homosexuality. Yes, it hurts. But I can't sit on that the rest of my life. I got to build my own life, and live it how I want it to be.
So, except the gay bashing and a mentally roller coaster ride, I've been talking with the psych again. Well, I guess this is the major thing causing the roller coaster, but whatever. You get the point. Anyway: This Tuesday I was at the psych again. I had, as the time before, promised myself that this was the day I would say "I'm gay" to somebody. And guess if that happened? Nope...
It's getting better, though. I actually said "I like girls" like 10 times in one session! For me that's almost unbelievable. But I did it. And it actually released some of the weight on my shoulders. I'm not sure if that is how it will be - that my stress/anxiety level will be at this point or lower for the rest of my life - but hopefully I'll not end up as horrible as I've been the last couple of weeks ever again. Still, I don't know how it will go, but maybe I got a somewhat more positive view on it all now.
A little side note on the psych: Today, in studies class, my teacher came up to me. She was the one I had to tell I'm seeing a psychologist so I won't have to tell my parents, and she's been acting weird and over-caring since. And that's been quite annoying. But what she told me today, that's not annoying at all. That's just freaky.
"So, are you still seeing the psychologist? I haven't seen you skip school in the last couple of weeks..." she said to me.
"Yes, I got some sessions after school."
"OK, then. I guess that's for the best..."
"Yeah... Sure." And no, I was not to mention that I'll skip an hour and a half in 14 days. You're to take every day as it comes, right?
"Is it OK to talk to 'Henry' then?" my teacher keeps on.
"Yeah... Guess so..."
"You know, I know him, you see. And he's very easy to talk to." And no, I did not know that...
"Well, I guess there's a reason he's a psychologist..."
"Sure, but it's not everyone it's as easy to talk to."
"No, guess not," I finish.
Scary! And I thought I had stopped thinking all conspiracies, because that's what's for the best... Apparently that's not a fact. Because I've actually thought about that. He could know someone I know as well. And that's scary. And freaky.
Well, it's just to wait for the future to tell what will happen... Sorry about writing miles, but this might become my self biography someday. And that book got to be with some pages!
Monday, January 11, 2010
The Talking In Norwegian Thing
Would anyone please tell me why I can't say "gay", "queer" nor "lesbian" in Norwegian? I beg you, it would help me a lot.
So, can I say it's official? One year ago, around this time, I finally understood myself and my feelings. I'm gay. Or, right now, I'm having an argue with my psychologist and myself because I got problems convincing myself that I understand my feelings, but that's another story. Anyway, let's set January as the month to celebrate. Or, do you celebrate the anniversary for when you came to terms with your own sexuality? Just wondering. Now, whatever.
Now, I think I'm going to push myself onto the track I was supposed to follow when writing this. OK, let's do this.
I'm here, I'm queer. It's A; OK to be gay. 2QTBSTR8, actually. So, why the heck can't I just say it? Actually, I can. In English. But that doesn't matter, because I live in Norway, and my mother tongue is Norwegian. That's why I got to actually be able to say "I'm gay" in Norwegian. But at this time, I don't.
To be honest, I have no idea why the words won't leave my tongue. "I just can't say it," I told my psych for the 18th time today. I guess he understood, but I don't. It's just three freakin' words!
No, I have no idea. I wish it was easier. Let it slip away, and forget it. My wish. And what is most confusing to me is that I have no problem whatsoever saying "I'm gay" in English. But in Norwegian everything stops. I can't even write it! So, now neither communication methods, speaking nor writing, works to express this feeling.
It's about who I fall in love with, and who I wish I could screw. That's it. It's not much, is it? Or...? Well, maybe it is. Because it's about who I, in the future, want to share my life with. But when I can't even express myself, how the heck am I supposed to make that happen?
Shitty, shitty. I gotta get a life, and stop blogging. But I can't. It's kind of an obsession...
I'm gay - Jeg er ...
So, can I say it's official? One year ago, around this time, I finally understood myself and my feelings. I'm gay. Or, right now, I'm having an argue with my psychologist and myself because I got problems convincing myself that I understand my feelings, but that's another story. Anyway, let's set January as the month to celebrate. Or, do you celebrate the anniversary for when you came to terms with your own sexuality? Just wondering. Now, whatever.
Now, I think I'm going to push myself onto the track I was supposed to follow when writing this. OK, let's do this.
I'm here, I'm queer. It's A; OK to be gay. 2QTBSTR8, actually. So, why the heck can't I just say it? Actually, I can. In English. But that doesn't matter, because I live in Norway, and my mother tongue is Norwegian. That's why I got to actually be able to say "I'm gay" in Norwegian. But at this time, I don't.
To be honest, I have no idea why the words won't leave my tongue. "I just can't say it," I told my psych for the 18th time today. I guess he understood, but I don't. It's just three freakin' words!
No, I have no idea. I wish it was easier. Let it slip away, and forget it. My wish. And what is most confusing to me is that I have no problem whatsoever saying "I'm gay" in English. But in Norwegian everything stops. I can't even write it! So, now neither communication methods, speaking nor writing, works to express this feeling.
It's about who I fall in love with, and who I wish I could screw. That's it. It's not much, is it? Or...? Well, maybe it is. Because it's about who I, in the future, want to share my life with. But when I can't even express myself, how the heck am I supposed to make that happen?
Shitty, shitty. I gotta get a life, and stop blogging. But I can't. It's kind of an obsession...
I'm gay - Jeg er ...
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Trust Issues
After going to the psych a couple of times, I had to tell my main teacher about it. The first two times I was lucky enough to get appointments at days where I was to leave school earlier than normal because of tests and so, but you can't live on that. So I had to tell her that I had leave class earlier than usual because I had an appointment at the psych.
When I told her, she was like: "Are you OK?" I assured her I was, and then she asked why I was seeing a psych. "It's personal," was my comment. Because it is. And no, I'm not going to tell an irritating teacher in her fifties who is way too into the motherhood thing why I'm talking to the psych. No way.
But then I wrote this text (which I've posted earlier here) for my semester final in English. Because we have a pretty cool English teacher, who I don't really mind knowing. And no, I didn't cross fingers and toes wishing she wouldn't let the other teachers read it, because I don't really care. I would actually like it if she ever let my former English teacher read some of my texts (at least the good ones), because if she's impressed, she's really impressed. But my main teacher? Who don't even teach English...
And I didn't know that before today. Because when I, in Social where she's my teacher, said not everyone thinks writing about their feelings is easy, and that I possibly could be in that group, she was just like, "Oh, I know you can. I've read some of your texts, you see."
When that happens to others I would totally say "Burn..." And that was (clearly) a major burn. So now I know... My teachers are crazy. Or annoying. Both. But now I've definitely learned something new about some of them.
What's the purpose of reading a student's writing when you're not near grading it? She doesn't even teach English! And no, I don't care whether she's my main teacher or not; She's got nothing to do reading it!
Today's mix: Trust issues and anger problems. I bet she's psychoanalyzing me in her sparetime. Yay...!
When I told her, she was like: "Are you OK?" I assured her I was, and then she asked why I was seeing a psych. "It's personal," was my comment. Because it is. And no, I'm not going to tell an irritating teacher in her fifties who is way too into the motherhood thing why I'm talking to the psych. No way.
But then I wrote this text (which I've posted earlier here) for my semester final in English. Because we have a pretty cool English teacher, who I don't really mind knowing. And no, I didn't cross fingers and toes wishing she wouldn't let the other teachers read it, because I don't really care. I would actually like it if she ever let my former English teacher read some of my texts (at least the good ones), because if she's impressed, she's really impressed. But my main teacher? Who don't even teach English...
And I didn't know that before today. Because when I, in Social where she's my teacher, said not everyone thinks writing about their feelings is easy, and that I possibly could be in that group, she was just like, "Oh, I know you can. I've read some of your texts, you see."
When that happens to others I would totally say "Burn..." And that was (clearly) a major burn. So now I know... My teachers are crazy. Or annoying. Both. But now I've definitely learned something new about some of them.
What's the purpose of reading a student's writing when you're not near grading it? She doesn't even teach English! And no, I don't care whether she's my main teacher or not; She's got nothing to do reading it!
Today's mix: Trust issues and anger problems. I bet she's psychoanalyzing me in her sparetime. Yay...!
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Girls Or Gals?
So... A short one. I kind of came out to two of my friends today... Actually I don't really know what that means, but anyway.
I was walking home from the mall with two of my friends. We talked, and at a sudden they started asking me questions (because one of them does that (asking weird/awkward/serious questions) all the time, so they decided to ask me some of them as well). One of them asked me about who I've had a crush on. I tried to avoid the question, saying stuff like "Em... I don't know... People, you know." and so. But they both kept on digging, and at a sudden the other asked: "Boys or...? Or girls?"
Me being bold, I said: "Well, girls... Once." Even though I said a big fat lie when I told them I've just had a crush on a girl once, I don't really care. And then they asked about what I define myself, or what I was into (or something). "I don't know. Both?" I said. Then they both told me it was cool me admitting it and stuff, and then we started talking about something else. Like it was no big deal!
It was kind of scary, though it only took a few seconds. And I avoided the word "lesbian". Thankfully. Still, I did just tell them I'm kind of bi-curious.Which I'm kind of not... But when rushing to meet them at the mall just half an hour after my session with the psych, I thought I would be like "don't talk to me" or something. But I wasn't. I some sort of came out to them in stead. And I'm so happy for that!
Psych went good as well, and I could actually talk (a bit (aka vaguely)) about the gay thing. But we did get further, and I'm not that a big ice cube anymore. So even though I (kinda) flunked my math exam, this day was way more positive than negative. Definitely.
A good day.
I was walking home from the mall with two of my friends. We talked, and at a sudden they started asking me questions (because one of them does that (asking weird/awkward/serious questions) all the time, so they decided to ask me some of them as well). One of them asked me about who I've had a crush on. I tried to avoid the question, saying stuff like "Em... I don't know... People, you know." and so. But they both kept on digging, and at a sudden the other asked: "Boys or...? Or girls?"
Me being bold, I said: "Well, girls... Once." Even though I said a big fat lie when I told them I've just had a crush on a girl once, I don't really care. And then they asked about what I define myself, or what I was into (or something). "I don't know. Both?" I said. Then they both told me it was cool me admitting it and stuff, and then we started talking about something else. Like it was no big deal!
It was kind of scary, though it only took a few seconds. And I avoided the word "lesbian". Thankfully. Still, I did just tell them I'm kind of bi-curious.Which I'm kind of not... But when rushing to meet them at the mall just half an hour after my session with the psych, I thought I would be like "don't talk to me" or something. But I wasn't. I some sort of came out to them in stead. And I'm so happy for that!
Psych went good as well, and I could actually talk (a bit (aka vaguely)) about the gay thing. But we did get further, and I'm not that a big ice cube anymore. So even though I (kinda) flunked my math exam, this day was way more positive than negative. Definitely.
A good day.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Regrets
Life isn’t easy
We all face challenges in our lives. Some of us are luckier than others, but whether you’re richer than Zimbabwe or live in the slum of Brasilia, you will always have problems. You might have to fight for your life every single day because you don’t have money to buy you food. Or you might struggle with your sexuality or have problems at home because your mother beats your younger brother when he can’t sleep at night. And that’s what makes us humans.
The last couple of years I’ve had problems. Not in the way that I haven’t had a place to live, or that I got beaten at home. I’m actually quite fortunate in that perspective, living in a country with good health care system and a school system where everyone is included. Both my parents are working, and I have the food and clothes I need. I must say I’m very lucky living this life. But, everyone has problems. It’s a part of life not being 100% happy all the time. Still, you’re supposed to see the good sides of life too. Not everyone does. And I’m one of them.
Depression is the word. A study said that about one out of ten adolescents have a mild to moderate depression. I don’t know if I would take it that far, but I know there are other people out there having problems like mine. Nobody’s alone, I’m sure. It’s just to see the others. But if you first end up in the bad circle, it’s hard to see that. It’s easy to look at the bad things, and forget that there are things that can be positive as well. And that bad circle is really hard to break.
But what can cause a person to end up with solely negative thoughts? How can it all end up that bad? Is a previous event relevant? Or is it more based on feelings? In my case it is more a mixture. That might be it for the majority of us. Example: You can stand being bullied once, but you usually can’t take the bullying if it happens on a daily basis. Also, when you end up with a depression, something got over the top. It might be that last hit from your classmate, or that last comment your family made about your dressing style. Or that you overheard your father talking about Caster Semenya and that he thinks she should be disqualified from the World Championship because she looks like a man, when you were about to go and tell him that you don’t feel like a woman, though you were born one. It is that last push and the negative feelings that usually do it.
I have my own reasons for not being happy. We all have. That doesn’t mean we can’t be happy sometimes. Not all the time, that’s impossible, only sometimes. But if you have too many bad feelings at the same time, you might end up in that bad circle, and you can’t see the good sides anymore. Then it is to realize. Realize what you’re really going through, see that you need help, and then seek for the help.
Seeking for help might be even worse than being in the bad circle. Maybe you have an idea of what makes you depressed, maybe not. If you think you know the answer, you might not want to realize it, even though you have the knowledge. What if your loved ones are causing you trouble? And if you don’t know, what do you do then? Will the one you try to talk to even understand?
I was directed to a psychologist when I finally got up the courage to talk with somebody about my problems. The day I took contact might have been the worst day of my life, as I was so frightened what would happen. A thousand questions ran through my head. When I first got up the courage to tell, I didn’t say directly that I wasn’t happy with life; I rather told an “excuse”, a smaller part of the whole thing. That I have problems with my family was a good enough part of the story to make the people I talked with understanding. And if you don’t know what to say, that’s what you say. Explain that you’re not happy with life, but that you don’t know what to do. They will understand. And when you finally ask for help, everything will get better.
Life is scary sometimes. I’ve faced some of the scariest parts I imagine you can fill a life with, and I still have more to come. It helps, though. Facing reality isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. And you’ll get so much out of it. I know I will, when I’ve overcome my struggles. I know that when I can take the bad sides of life, I’ll be a very strong person. Going through this will help me another day when I have another challenge in life, and it might even help others. But it is scary. And difficult. But that’s how it’s like to be a human. It isn’t easy. Because life isn’t easy.
OK, so that was what I wrote as my semester final yesterday. Now it's out here in my not-real life as well as in my English teacher's hands. "A very strong text! Your English is excellent!" is what she said about it. But still, I think I shouldn't have done it. I really shouldn't have written about the psych.
So now I regret. Damn, how great! They shouldn't know it, right? Why should they? I go to the psych now and then, and then I give my main teacher a note from the psych because mom and dad don't know. There was no point in writing about it so another teacher of mine would know, and if she reads it loud in front of the other teachers (which they do sometimes) everyone will know. Every freaking teacher in 10th might know by now!
This was not supposed to happen.
We all face challenges in our lives. Some of us are luckier than others, but whether you’re richer than Zimbabwe or live in the slum of Brasilia, you will always have problems. You might have to fight for your life every single day because you don’t have money to buy you food. Or you might struggle with your sexuality or have problems at home because your mother beats your younger brother when he can’t sleep at night. And that’s what makes us humans.
The last couple of years I’ve had problems. Not in the way that I haven’t had a place to live, or that I got beaten at home. I’m actually quite fortunate in that perspective, living in a country with good health care system and a school system where everyone is included. Both my parents are working, and I have the food and clothes I need. I must say I’m very lucky living this life. But, everyone has problems. It’s a part of life not being 100% happy all the time. Still, you’re supposed to see the good sides of life too. Not everyone does. And I’m one of them.
Depression is the word. A study said that about one out of ten adolescents have a mild to moderate depression. I don’t know if I would take it that far, but I know there are other people out there having problems like mine. Nobody’s alone, I’m sure. It’s just to see the others. But if you first end up in the bad circle, it’s hard to see that. It’s easy to look at the bad things, and forget that there are things that can be positive as well. And that bad circle is really hard to break.
But what can cause a person to end up with solely negative thoughts? How can it all end up that bad? Is a previous event relevant? Or is it more based on feelings? In my case it is more a mixture. That might be it for the majority of us. Example: You can stand being bullied once, but you usually can’t take the bullying if it happens on a daily basis. Also, when you end up with a depression, something got over the top. It might be that last hit from your classmate, or that last comment your family made about your dressing style. Or that you overheard your father talking about Caster Semenya and that he thinks she should be disqualified from the World Championship because she looks like a man, when you were about to go and tell him that you don’t feel like a woman, though you were born one. It is that last push and the negative feelings that usually do it.
I have my own reasons for not being happy. We all have. That doesn’t mean we can’t be happy sometimes. Not all the time, that’s impossible, only sometimes. But if you have too many bad feelings at the same time, you might end up in that bad circle, and you can’t see the good sides anymore. Then it is to realize. Realize what you’re really going through, see that you need help, and then seek for the help.
Seeking for help might be even worse than being in the bad circle. Maybe you have an idea of what makes you depressed, maybe not. If you think you know the answer, you might not want to realize it, even though you have the knowledge. What if your loved ones are causing you trouble? And if you don’t know, what do you do then? Will the one you try to talk to even understand?
I was directed to a psychologist when I finally got up the courage to talk with somebody about my problems. The day I took contact might have been the worst day of my life, as I was so frightened what would happen. A thousand questions ran through my head. When I first got up the courage to tell, I didn’t say directly that I wasn’t happy with life; I rather told an “excuse”, a smaller part of the whole thing. That I have problems with my family was a good enough part of the story to make the people I talked with understanding. And if you don’t know what to say, that’s what you say. Explain that you’re not happy with life, but that you don’t know what to do. They will understand. And when you finally ask for help, everything will get better.
Life is scary sometimes. I’ve faced some of the scariest parts I imagine you can fill a life with, and I still have more to come. It helps, though. Facing reality isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. And you’ll get so much out of it. I know I will, when I’ve overcome my struggles. I know that when I can take the bad sides of life, I’ll be a very strong person. Going through this will help me another day when I have another challenge in life, and it might even help others. But it is scary. And difficult. But that’s how it’s like to be a human. It isn’t easy. Because life isn’t easy.
OK, so that was what I wrote as my semester final yesterday. Now it's out here in my not-real life as well as in my English teacher's hands. "A very strong text! Your English is excellent!" is what she said about it. But still, I think I shouldn't have done it. I really shouldn't have written about the psych.
So now I regret. Damn, how great! They shouldn't know it, right? Why should they? I go to the psych now and then, and then I give my main teacher a note from the psych because mom and dad don't know. There was no point in writing about it so another teacher of mine would know, and if she reads it loud in front of the other teachers (which they do sometimes) everyone will know. Every freaking teacher in 10th might know by now!
This was not supposed to happen.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Psychoanalyzing On A Higher Level
This day is both a failure and an improvement. We had semester finals in English today, where we was to choose between 5 different tasks to write about. I (of course) chose the one where you should write about something challenging you in life at this time, and I wrote this text about me being depressed and going to a shrink. Great (read with irony)! Now it's just to wait for the feedback. It probably sucks. And I delivered myself out way too much. But that be. Take it as it comes. And relax. Right?
So the English was a major failure. And the psych...? Actually not that bad after all. But I got this tension, and because he has a degree in psychology, he definitely noticed. We mostly talked about this tension and anxiety I have, that I don't like to talk about this whole gay thing, and what could happen if I come out. It was as if I sat on needles the whole hour, and I kind of feel it still at this point, but it was OK. He's a decent guy.
Though, I told him today that I write this blog, and that I write in English in stead of Norwegian. He replied that a lot of people do so (writing in another language than their mother tongue), and said that this is because when you write in another language than you talk on a daily basis, everything becomes more distant. Which I kind of figured out already. But that be. Psychiatrists as parents does something with you... My brother and I are perfect examples on that.
At the end he asked me whether I want to take it slow and kind of just gently swipe what I don't like to talk about, or go more directly into it. He must have sensed that I probably need a push into it. Because it really ain't easy. So I said it was OK to take it a bit more direct. Since we today didn't talk anything about my sexual orientation today, though we both probably knew that we were, just without mention any words on it...
So next appointment Thursday next week. Which is more frequently than before. I don't know whether that's good or bad, but whatever. I'll try not to worry too much now. Take it as it comes. Though that project will probably fail.
Yes, and the psychoanalyzing thing... He psychoanalyzes me, and I psychoanalyze him back. That's OK, right? It makes it easier for me, at least, when I believe I understand what he's thinking. I might not, but that be.
So now I'm officially a crazy blogger, blogging about me, myself and my life. Not so interesting... But please don't judge.
So the English was a major failure. And the psych...? Actually not that bad after all. But I got this tension, and because he has a degree in psychology, he definitely noticed. We mostly talked about this tension and anxiety I have, that I don't like to talk about this whole gay thing, and what could happen if I come out. It was as if I sat on needles the whole hour, and I kind of feel it still at this point, but it was OK. He's a decent guy.
Though, I told him today that I write this blog, and that I write in English in stead of Norwegian. He replied that a lot of people do so (writing in another language than their mother tongue), and said that this is because when you write in another language than you talk on a daily basis, everything becomes more distant. Which I kind of figured out already. But that be. Psychiatrists as parents does something with you... My brother and I are perfect examples on that.
At the end he asked me whether I want to take it slow and kind of just gently swipe what I don't like to talk about, or go more directly into it. He must have sensed that I probably need a push into it. Because it really ain't easy. So I said it was OK to take it a bit more direct. Since we today didn't talk anything about my sexual orientation today, though we both probably knew that we were, just without mention any words on it...
So next appointment Thursday next week. Which is more frequently than before. I don't know whether that's good or bad, but whatever. I'll try not to worry too much now. Take it as it comes. Though that project will probably fail.
Yes, and the psychoanalyzing thing... He psychoanalyzes me, and I psychoanalyze him back. That's OK, right? It makes it easier for me, at least, when I believe I understand what he's thinking. I might not, but that be.
So now I'm officially a crazy blogger, blogging about me, myself and my life. Not so interesting... But please don't judge.
Monday, November 16, 2009
I'm Scared
I'm freakin' scared.
So... I'm back at the psych tomorrow. Which is terrifying. Last time I sat in that red chair I was stiff as a statue, could barely speak, and didn't really know what this actually means. So why am I even going?
Difficult things sucks. I really don't want do this. Discussing my life, my love, my person - me. Can't I just leave it alone? What if I just quit? Because I am a quitter, after all. And I can quit whenever I want. But why not?
It's not worth it. Quitting wont make it easier. It will probably just make it harder. Living on an eight all the time is worse than living on a ten sometimes, and five other times. But it wouldn't hurt if everything was a bit easier.
Maybe I'm not a quitter after all... Really, I don't know. But I know I'll try my best not quitting therapy (I can call it that now, right?) before I'm over this mess. Try my best. Doing what I'm supposed to do, what I'm asked to do. And right now I feel both myself and the rest of the world wants me to continue. Make it better for myself. And for everyone else.
I'm not going to quit. Still, I'm more than a little confused. Talking is really scary, confusing and bad at the same time. But I'm not going to quit.
Want to be scared with me?
So... I'm back at the psych tomorrow. Which is terrifying. Last time I sat in that red chair I was stiff as a statue, could barely speak, and didn't really know what this actually means. So why am I even going?
Difficult things sucks. I really don't want do this. Discussing my life, my love, my person - me. Can't I just leave it alone? What if I just quit? Because I am a quitter, after all. And I can quit whenever I want. But why not?
It's not worth it. Quitting wont make it easier. It will probably just make it harder. Living on an eight all the time is worse than living on a ten sometimes, and five other times. But it wouldn't hurt if everything was a bit easier.
Maybe I'm not a quitter after all... Really, I don't know. But I know I'll try my best not quitting therapy (I can call it that now, right?) before I'm over this mess. Try my best. Doing what I'm supposed to do, what I'm asked to do. And right now I feel both myself and the rest of the world wants me to continue. Make it better for myself. And for everyone else.
I'm not going to quit. Still, I'm more than a little confused. Talking is really scary, confusing and bad at the same time. But I'm not going to quit.
Want to be scared with me?
Saturday, November 7, 2009
This Is How It Goes
Tuesday was my fourth time at the psych. It's still scary. Fucking unbelievably scary. But it's OK. I think and hope and believe I get something out of it talking to this guy, so...
But it's really hard. Especially when talking about things I wish would never ever be said a word about. Still, I gotta stay strong, right? And, however stupid and cliche it sounds like: I'm not doing it just for myself. It's OK to not be happy all the time, but sometimes it gets too much, just causing pain on everyone else.
Both last time and this Tuesday he asked me how I feel about going to him and talk. I said I really think it's scary, but I'm OK with it. It's better talking to him than not talking to anyone, after all. So he asked me why I am afraid coming. "Is it because it's scary talking about certain subjects?" he asked. Couldn't do anything else than confirm that. But who ain't afraid of that? No, I'm not comfortable talking about my sexuality. Sorry, but that's just how it is...
I didn't tell him that I don't like talking about that, though. But of course we had to discuss it eventually. I could feel every muscle in my body tighten. My eyes looked around fast to find a safe spot to look at when he said the word 'lesbian'. I was just so scared.
Later that session he pointed out to me that I got more tense when talking about certain subjects. He could see it. But that's what you learn taking psychology at university, right?. Still, it's quite scary. That a person can read you like that (even though it might have been quite easy to spot, after all). Yes, I do it all the time (social heritage), but I tend not to say anything. Because it's freaky. Especially when you don't want anyone to know, which you usually don't. Scary and freaky...
Can I make that an argument not to go? That it's scary to talk about stuff, and that I'm freaked out when he "reads" me? No, seriously. Keep up tough, right? I gotta make me my own pep talk tonight. Or at least before next session.
I'm not used to open up to people. Maybe that's what's scary, bottom of the bottle. At the moment I'm not quite sure. But opening up is scary. Right? But I'll do good. Get my ass down there in two weeks as I did this week. Try to talk about it as good as I can, hoping (and wanting) to do better.
So this is to say something about how talking to the psych is doing. Because it's hard explaining what we're talking about, and so that I can sort things out and put it in perspective. Just to look at the whole thing.
And yes, the tissues are still to be used. I don't cry easily.
But it's really hard. Especially when talking about things I wish would never ever be said a word about. Still, I gotta stay strong, right? And, however stupid and cliche it sounds like: I'm not doing it just for myself. It's OK to not be happy all the time, but sometimes it gets too much, just causing pain on everyone else.
Both last time and this Tuesday he asked me how I feel about going to him and talk. I said I really think it's scary, but I'm OK with it. It's better talking to him than not talking to anyone, after all. So he asked me why I am afraid coming. "Is it because it's scary talking about certain subjects?" he asked. Couldn't do anything else than confirm that. But who ain't afraid of that? No, I'm not comfortable talking about my sexuality. Sorry, but that's just how it is...
I didn't tell him that I don't like talking about that, though. But of course we had to discuss it eventually. I could feel every muscle in my body tighten. My eyes looked around fast to find a safe spot to look at when he said the word 'lesbian'. I was just so scared.
Later that session he pointed out to me that I got more tense when talking about certain subjects. He could see it. But that's what you learn taking psychology at university, right?. Still, it's quite scary. That a person can read you like that (even though it might have been quite easy to spot, after all). Yes, I do it all the time (social heritage), but I tend not to say anything. Because it's freaky. Especially when you don't want anyone to know, which you usually don't. Scary and freaky...
Can I make that an argument not to go? That it's scary to talk about stuff, and that I'm freaked out when he "reads" me? No, seriously. Keep up tough, right? I gotta make me my own pep talk tonight. Or at least before next session.
I'm not used to open up to people. Maybe that's what's scary, bottom of the bottle. At the moment I'm not quite sure. But opening up is scary. Right? But I'll do good. Get my ass down there in two weeks as I did this week. Try to talk about it as good as I can, hoping (and wanting) to do better.
So this is to say something about how talking to the psych is doing. Because it's hard explaining what we're talking about, and so that I can sort things out and put it in perspective. Just to look at the whole thing.
And yes, the tissues are still to be used. I don't cry easily.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
The Psych
So this whole blog has ended up as a public diary for people who cares or are interested in my life and my thoughts. But OK, I'm ruling over the whole thing, right?
Anyway, today I was talking to a psychologist for the first time. I've been to the nurse three times, and she asked me whether or not I want to talk to a psych in stead of her. And I said yes. So I went to talk with this Fredrik guy.
In the beginning, after I said I would like to talk to him, I really didn't know why I said yes at all. But I got an appointment and went down to the place he works. Thankfully a good friend walked down with me, so I would actually enter the building. I sat down and waited for him, and after a couple of minutes he called me into his office.
We sat down, and he started by going through some agreements and basic info. Then he told me what the nurse had said about me after talking to her, and asked me what I thought about the situation. I said I wasn't quite sure about the whole thing and what's making me depressed. I also told him some about me and myself and what could cause the feelings I have.
After a while just talking (and me mentioning my family a couple of (thousand) times), he said he wanted draw a history line. We went down on Mom and Dad's relationship with each other and with me, the divorce and stuff. It ended up quite interesting because I haven't thought so much about my relationship with my parents (or in this context), and it made me think. It seemed like it made Fredrik think as well, but I don't know...
It was quite successful, after all, and I'm going back in two weeks. Let's hope it helps and that I get over this...
Anyway, today I was talking to a psychologist for the first time. I've been to the nurse three times, and she asked me whether or not I want to talk to a psych in stead of her. And I said yes. So I went to talk with this Fredrik guy.
In the beginning, after I said I would like to talk to him, I really didn't know why I said yes at all. But I got an appointment and went down to the place he works. Thankfully a good friend walked down with me, so I would actually enter the building. I sat down and waited for him, and after a couple of minutes he called me into his office.
We sat down, and he started by going through some agreements and basic info. Then he told me what the nurse had said about me after talking to her, and asked me what I thought about the situation. I said I wasn't quite sure about the whole thing and what's making me depressed. I also told him some about me and myself and what could cause the feelings I have.
After a while just talking (and me mentioning my family a couple of (thousand) times), he said he wanted draw a history line. We went down on Mom and Dad's relationship with each other and with me, the divorce and stuff. It ended up quite interesting because I haven't thought so much about my relationship with my parents (or in this context), and it made me think. It seemed like it made Fredrik think as well, but I don't know...
It was quite successful, after all, and I'm going back in two weeks. Let's hope it helps and that I get over this...
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Emotionally Crazy Ride Or Something
OK. Now breathe.
Yesterday I was talking with the nurse again. Alone. And I'm... Well, I think it's hard to talk about the whole gay issue (because it is now) in Norwegian. The words seem wrong, nothing really fit with my thoughts, and everything's just wrong. Which sucks. Big time. And I have no idea what to do.
So we talked for about 45 min (which is crazy long). Discussing everything, I guess. But it was like I didn't knew what to say because I didn't quite knew how I feel at the moment. So I kind of ended up pulling out a lot of shit, and blah... This is probably the first time I'm not quite sure how to express myself at all; The language(s), the words, the meanings, the feelings. Nothing's working right now concerning words. Not even written.
But still: I definitely see that I'm happier now than two weeks ago. So even though my thoughts are going crazy in my head, I've talked about it. And I see that writing can help, but talking in general can help more. Because for me it's way more personal to say something than writing something (even though I put my soul into my writing).
What scares me the most is if the nurse doesn't take me seriously (but I think she does). No, I have no idea what she can really do to help me. I don't see any solution. But somehow it is helping. Just getting everything out.
What is bad about this talking thing (except the fact that I'm lost in the world of words) is that I don't really know why I ended up at the nurse's office in the first place. No, I'm not happy with my life. I don't like to be gay. I'm scared. But is that the key to happiness? To not be scared anymore? To fully accept the fact that I'm gay? Will I see the good sides of life then? Or is it something else?
There might be something else. I've had some struggles in my life. But who hasn't? Why am I the sad girl, not someone else? Why am I in the emotional cellar?
All I want is to find out what's going on. Yes, I have been psychoanalyzing myself quite a few times (social heritage, don't blame me), but I can't find the root to this mess.
Blah. Self-psychoanalyzing sucks. Especially when it's me about me. Any idea what to do? What to say? I guess she thinks (or that's what my friend and I told her) it's all about the gay thing. Honestly, I don't know.
Anyway, she talked about sending me to this guy named Fredrik. I think he's a shrink or something. Psychologist. Can I say I hope she does? Because I do.
As said before: Shrinks and psychologists should not have kids. Or at least not with each other. Because they're crazy.
Yesterday I was talking with the nurse again. Alone. And I'm... Well, I think it's hard to talk about the whole gay issue (because it is now) in Norwegian. The words seem wrong, nothing really fit with my thoughts, and everything's just wrong. Which sucks. Big time. And I have no idea what to do.
So we talked for about 45 min (which is crazy long). Discussing everything, I guess. But it was like I didn't knew what to say because I didn't quite knew how I feel at the moment. So I kind of ended up pulling out a lot of shit, and blah... This is probably the first time I'm not quite sure how to express myself at all; The language(s), the words, the meanings, the feelings. Nothing's working right now concerning words. Not even written.
But still: I definitely see that I'm happier now than two weeks ago. So even though my thoughts are going crazy in my head, I've talked about it. And I see that writing can help, but talking in general can help more. Because for me it's way more personal to say something than writing something (even though I put my soul into my writing).
What scares me the most is if the nurse doesn't take me seriously (but I think she does). No, I have no idea what she can really do to help me. I don't see any solution. But somehow it is helping. Just getting everything out.
What is bad about this talking thing (except the fact that I'm lost in the world of words) is that I don't really know why I ended up at the nurse's office in the first place. No, I'm not happy with my life. I don't like to be gay. I'm scared. But is that the key to happiness? To not be scared anymore? To fully accept the fact that I'm gay? Will I see the good sides of life then? Or is it something else?
There might be something else. I've had some struggles in my life. But who hasn't? Why am I the sad girl, not someone else? Why am I in the emotional cellar?
All I want is to find out what's going on. Yes, I have been psychoanalyzing myself quite a few times (social heritage, don't blame me), but I can't find the root to this mess.
Blah. Self-psychoanalyzing sucks. Especially when it's me about me. Any idea what to do? What to say? I guess she thinks (or that's what my friend and I told her) it's all about the gay thing. Honestly, I don't know.
Anyway, she talked about sending me to this guy named Fredrik. I think he's a shrink or something. Psychologist. Can I say I hope she does? Because I do.
As said before: Shrinks and psychologists should not have kids. Or at least not with each other. Because they're crazy.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Day To Day
It's been a while since I last posted something about myself right now and what's happening in my life, so I thought "Why not?". Here you go:
School started August 17th. It was just back to do the ordinary stuff with the ordinary people. Or almost. A great teacher, whom I trusted, switched to another class, which sucks. So it's not as easy to talk to her anymore, and she's one of the few I can trust. Now I probably have to do it all myself (damn it).
The thing I have to do is to talk, like really talk, to someone. Someone who can get me out of this darkness. Which means I got to increase my courage up to a level that makes me able to talk about this stuff. And go talk with somebody.
Everything is so much easier inside my head. If I actually could talk about my feelings, I wouldn't be held back with everything today. But I'm too scared.
The plan is to go and talk with the nurse. But a) I don't want to skip class, and b) I can't even knock on that (excuse my language) fucking door. So I have no idea what to do. Except psychoanalyzing myself. Which is scary, and not really working.
Session done for today. Mark in protocol: Never ever become a shrink, marry another one and have children. It's just not a good idea.
School started August 17th. It was just back to do the ordinary stuff with the ordinary people. Or almost. A great teacher, whom I trusted, switched to another class, which sucks. So it's not as easy to talk to her anymore, and she's one of the few I can trust. Now I probably have to do it all myself (damn it).
The thing I have to do is to talk, like really talk, to someone. Someone who can get me out of this darkness. Which means I got to increase my courage up to a level that makes me able to talk about this stuff. And go talk with somebody.
Everything is so much easier inside my head. If I actually could talk about my feelings, I wouldn't be held back with everything today. But I'm too scared.
The plan is to go and talk with the nurse. But a) I don't want to skip class, and b) I can't even knock on that (excuse my language) fucking door. So I have no idea what to do. Except psychoanalyzing myself. Which is scary, and not really working.
Session done for today. Mark in protocol: Never ever become a shrink, marry another one and have children. It's just not a good idea.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Abundance Isn't Always Good
I seriously have a bad social heritage. Both my parents are psychiatrists. "Good for the community," you might say. Well, not for me. Because every time I meet people, I try to analyze them. And I analyze every person I know. It's very... annoying. Because I've discovered that I actually am quite good at it as well. So now I have these, sometimes strange, theories about people.
Someone might say that it's cool to think this about people they know, but it's not. When I think these thoughts, I always wonder if they're true. But very often I don't get to know the answer. And when I besides of that am very curious... No good.
There's also something else caused by my social heritage. I "try" to be everyone's psychologist. For an example: If my best friend gets dumped, I talk to her, tell her that I know how she feels and stuff. Even though I've been dumped. But I kind of feel that I still know what she's going through. Or if someone doesn't understand something at school, I can tutor he or she, even though I've always kept track with what we learn on school.
Plus - I tutor my classmates. All the time. I can help them, strange enough, to understand what they're doing. When some of the teachers can't.
Yes, I am bragging. It's just that I don't always feel that my skills are in my advantage. Sometimes they just bother me. But you got to stick through with what you got.
Someone might say that it's cool to think this about people they know, but it's not. When I think these thoughts, I always wonder if they're true. But very often I don't get to know the answer. And when I besides of that am very curious... No good.
There's also something else caused by my social heritage. I "try" to be everyone's psychologist. For an example: If my best friend gets dumped, I talk to her, tell her that I know how she feels and stuff. Even though I've been dumped. But I kind of feel that I still know what she's going through. Or if someone doesn't understand something at school, I can tutor he or she, even though I've always kept track with what we learn on school.
Plus - I tutor my classmates. All the time. I can help them, strange enough, to understand what they're doing. When some of the teachers can't.
Yes, I am bragging. It's just that I don't always feel that my skills are in my advantage. Sometimes they just bother me. But you got to stick through with what you got.
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