Saturday, October 6, 2012

Motivational Mårten

He's a bit special. His shell is yellow and his tummy is all round and fat. His eyes stand out and his flappers are all curled up and too short to swim with. His name is Motivational Mårten, named during my time at the hospital by another patient who saw him dangling from my wrist. Everyone had their own hospital bracelet. White plastic with our names and social security numbers scribbled on them. This odd turtle got to stick around, attached to that bracelet. He brought me some comfort, some laughs and help. He likes to drink coffee but he's not allowed because he gets all weird and shaky.

Do I sound like a mentally unstable person? Yeah, probably. The thing is though that when I ramble about my imaginary animals I feel happy. The closest to myself as I want to be. The Bear told me a while ago that he noticed I wasn't feeling ok because I didn't comment on any of the horses or cows we passed along the road in the car. As soon as I can smile and silly-talk about animals you can be sure that I'm exactly as I should be.

I've started to write seriously about my life with some long-term goal to make it into a book. Not really with an ambition to publish it or even finish it, but writing every little thought, emotion and experience helps me deal with it all. I've tried to find help in reading about other peoples lives and experiences but I still feel all confused about my own. Sometimes my life is clear and simple. I feel relaxed, hopeful and strong. The next moment everything comes back with full force and slaps me in the face with the realization I'm still sick. The trick is to learn how to manage it, keep the fear at bay and to allow myself to be me, even during the most horrible moments. If I write here that I want our society to be more understanding towards mental illness, why then do I keep falling back into calling myself lazy, pathetic, stupid and worthless? Why can't my brain stick to the plan I've made? How can it be that things I've worked so long to change still are exactly the same? I have no idea. I'm just trying to stick to that shred of hope that this time around things will be different. That this time will be the last time I sink this far and that I'll be capable of taking care of myself in the future without having to fight for it every hour every day.

Patience is way easier to write about than it is to hold on to. Patience with myself, with waiting for the medication to take effect. Waiting for the next therapy session, waiting for all the rambling talk to actually lead to something. Waiting to get to see that doctor I was promised several months ago. Waiting for myself to get better. It can't be forced or rushed, but life goes on no matter how patient I try to be. I'm looking forward to the day I'll be able to get through a fully normal day without collapsing over nothing. Until then I'll have to stop blaming myself for not getting better faster. After years and years of this destructive pattern I can't expect to be cured in just a week. I just wish someone could tell me how long it actually takes and what I should do until then.

2 comments:

  1. This is a bit random, but I like to comment on people's posts. :] But I absolutely agree with you. Patience definitely is more difficult to hold on to in real life. I sound so vain and snarky when I say this, but it's 'cause I know what it feels like. I wish I could therapy, but... Anyway, I think you already know this, but there isn't really a set date for healing. It depends on the person. :] Sorry if this rambly comment kinda weirded you out, but heh. c: I kind of follow your blog already...

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