Oops, almost a whole year since my last post. Not good, but in other ways really good. Just going to give you guys a short update on what's been happening.

First of all, I'm back in school, studying to become a nurse's aid in psychiatry. I love it and in February I'm finally done with my high school degree which means I'll be able to start applying for a real job. Since this is the last course, everyone has to do an essay. The choices where Borderline with self-injury, neuropsychiatric problems such as autism, eating disorders or forensic psychiatry. I chose the first option and surprisingly I am handling it better than I thought I would. Some of my friends worried that writing about self-injury would trigger me or something, but so far there's been no problems at all and I'm already halfway done. I do admit that when I started writing about the self-injury I felt a twinge, but nothing more. Rather, my experience has helped me write in a way that people can understand.

The second and I think most important thing, happened today. I went to see my psychiatrist with Mum to discuss prolonging my sick leave. During that meeting we talked about my past and after a few questions and checking the chriteria she confirmed what I've thought all along. My problems with insomnia, flashbacks, depression etc, they all point to PTSD. Never thought I would be glad to get a diagnosis but there you have it. This means I can really start working my way forward again. I'm no longer afraid of the way I react to certain situations because now I know why.

2014 is over, and a new year has begun. Hopefully 2015 will turn out slightly better than last year. 2014 was a year full of trials and tribulations if you care to be dramatic about it. My back giving up on me again, a relapse. But the worst blow of all was losing two very close friends. One last spring, and the other just barely two months ago.

Masy was a wonderful and strong young woman who I met in my self-supportgroup. I've been attending the self-supportgroup for two and a half years now and made lots of new acquaintances. One of the rules at the centre is that we never spend time together outside group. Despite this, or because of it, I grew close to Masy. Our stories were very similar. Anyway, Masy had suffered from both Bulimia and self-harm since her early teens, it was how she coped with what she was going through. She was finally recovering and made progress practically every session. Just to clarify, the support center is not specifically for eating disorders or self harm.  But all the years of purging had taken a toll on her body and one day her organs just gave up. I was completely stunned. One week she was alive and happy, the next she was found in her apartment dead from multi organ failure. Had this been a few years ago, I know I would have relapsed. All these years I've been terrified to feel the pain, fearing it would suffocate me. But instead of relapsing, I dealt with the pain by taking long walks as soon as the grief grabbed hold of me. Still, I had a few months when I couldn't really take initiatives. Of course the pain grew less and less and finally I could talk about her again without getting choked up.

Olly, the other one, held a special place in my heart. No-one really understood just how close we were. It was one of those cases where age didn't matter. He was 70, I'm 28. He was one of my mothers oldest friends and we spent many hours together riding in the woods, having heartfelt talks, heated discussions during dinner parties etc. He was one of the few people who really understood what I went through, living with intense physical pain himself. A few years ago he got sick and lost his short term memory. Some people found it very awkward talking to him, but I didn't. He had a favorite song that he used to quote, Diana Krall's Pick yourself up and do it again. I've been thinking of getting a tattoo of those words in memory of him. The pain of losing him is still very fresh, and at his memorial service last weekend I could finally cry. It was a real relief.

What's changed is that now I'm strong enough to realize that although self-harming might give me temporary release, and that's the key word really, temporary, it will not bring neither Masy nor Olly back. Even if the emotional pain sucks while it lasts, it always ends at some point or another.

On meeting my old ghosts

Today's post will be about bullying. Partly because there was an article in the papers last week about a kid who killed himself because of bullying. The article affected me so greatly that for a minute I actually had flashbacks. Not really something I like to happen at work. But I think the main reason is because, and I'm not kidding you, during the past week I've come face to face with not one but TWO of my old bullies. Several things have contributed to my problems with self harm but bullying is one of the main things. You name it, they did it to me. As usual I have altered the names.

I was picked on from pre-school and all the way through high school. I think the fact that I was new in class, had rebut I have to admit that the years between third and sixth grade were the worst.  Practically all my classmates joined in the bullying, from peer pressure I guess. As I said in the beginning of the post, I met two of them last week.

The first one, let's call her Annie, happened to get on the same train as me when I went to the folk highschool reunion last Saturday. Generally I try to aviod my old classmates and I hadn't seen Annie for a few years so at first I wasn't sure it was her. But then I caught her staring at me and pretending not to whenever I looked up and when we were about to leave the train she made a great show of heading for another exit. And yes, we were the only two at that specific exit. Ironically, we headed for the same bus as well. I don't really have any feelings of animosity or hatred against her, she never joined in actively when it came to the physical abuse and the few times I met her without the rest of the gang she was OK, but it still felt slightly unnerving seeing her again. Part of me kind of hoped that she was going to apologize but no such luck.

Emma, on the other hand, was the leader of the wolfpack as I like to refer to them. I was on the bus home, and suddenly there she was right beside me. Not fun. I hadn't seen her since I was thirteen but some people you just never forget. Hell, I still have nightmares occasionally. I think my reaction would have been less severe if I hadn't been to therapy an hour prior to seeing her. To my credit, my only outward reaction was that I started to breathe slightly faster but no one reacted to that since the bus was overly crowded. In reality I was fighting against memories, such as a strangling episode and being told every day that everyone would be better off if I were dead. Every single part of my brain was shouting "Run!" and as always when I feel threatened, my scars started to itch. It's psychosomatic. And had the bus been less crowded I would definitely stepped off earlier. Since that was not an option I used a technique I learned from one of my therapists. I think of something I like, for example my dog, and then make a list of things I know or like about her while concentrating on my breathing. It worked partly. I still wanted to disappear, but my breathing slowed to near normal and I was able to get off at my stop in an orderly fashion. instead of just elbowing my way out.

All the comments, taunting, punches ( both physical and psychological ) that I had to endure over the years have definitely left a dent, and I don't know if I will ever to be able to put it behind me completely. But I do know that I am a much stronger person than either Annie or Emma or any of them..

Good evening!

Since I had to cancel my dressage training this week I decided to go for some aqua exercising instead. It's one of the few forms of exercise I can do without throwing my back out completely. That and regular swimming.

I'm fortunate in the sense that my scars are relatively faded and eight times out of ten nobody bothers me. On the occasions that people do comment and stare I'm nowadays strong enough not to let it get to me. A few years back ( I think i've written about it in another post ) I stopped going to the gym because two women kept staring at me and later asked me to leave. 

Anyway, today there were some kids playing in the pool just before the session was about to start. One of the participants told them to leave but since one of them didn't speak Swedish I translated, telling him that he was welcome back in an hours time. While I was talking to the boy, I noticed how the participant kept looking at me. "Here we go", I thought and sure enough, the kid had no sooner left the pool before she  told me that she thought I was disrespectful for letting my scars show, that I should be more considerate to others. 

What really got to me wasn't the comments in themselves, I'm used to dealing with that. No, what got to me was the fact that not even a year ago, she dropped the exact same comment! I know that I never should have started self harming, but unless someone invents a time machine there's nothing I can do to change the fact. Last time I got so angry at her that I was actually thinking about leaving. This time I looked her straight in the eye and told her that we had already had this discussion once before. I also told her that no matter what she thought I have to same right as her to be there and that she was the one being disrespectful. 

For me, this is a great step forward. Who knows, soon I might even be able to apply for a new membership at the gym.

I'm back!

Hey everyone! I'm  back!

I know it's been two years since I last posted, but sometimes life just catches up with you and that's basically what happened here. I've just haven't had anything to write about.

But now I'm at a point in my life where things are changing and fast. First off, I'm nearly completely of my meds now. If things keep going this good I might be completely free in a year or thereabouts. Secondly, I've finally found my true calling. I'm in the process of going back to school to complete my high school studies. I've decided to work with youths struggling  with self injuring. Some have asked me why on earth I would want to work with something that's been haunting me during the majority of my life. My answer: That's exactly why. Unlike shrinks who just have dealt in the theory, I know firsthand what someone trying to stop self harming in any way is going through, the different conflicts. The first therapist who could actually help me was the one who'd gone through the very same thing.

Now, working as  a therapist is not really good pay but if I can help just one person get through the day without self harming, that will be payment enough. I'd rather have a job that I love but has  lower salary, than a job with higher salary but not the same personal meaning.

On that note, I say good night all. I'm off to London for a few days but will write when I get back :)

It can be a bit difficult knowing when to tell the truth about your scars and when to fabulate. It all depends on the present situation. I've been helping out with the kids at the local riding-school during the daycamps both last week and this week. They've been between six and twelve years old and naturally I can't tell them the truth. This has led to my lying to the parents as well, plus wearing long sleeves again even on the hottest days. I usually say that I lost control of my bike and went straight into a hedge. I think I've gotten the question "Do you have a cat?" like six times over the past few weeks, both at work and at home in the village. From GROWN-UPS! Some of them don't let go of the issue and on those occasions I just want to exclaim that yes, I have a cat but she isn't the one who gave me these. End of discussion, stop bugging me.

So I am somewhat torn as to how I should tackle this, which feels a little silly since this blog is all about support and encouragement.

There's a lot of things going on right now. This weekend, for example, I got off one of my medicines, and I feel great. The more we lower, the better I feel. It just goes to show that my other doctors had love affairs with their prescription pads. And yes, I know that that makes me sound like a nutcase but facts are facts. Another big event (for me) is that my writers block is finally unblocked. I can use my writing as a way to rid my head of unwelcome thoughts again.

The trick is called association writing. Just let the hand guide the pencil, one word, or sentence, or section at a time without stopping to look until you feel you are done. Sure, you can correct spelling mistakes as you go  but if you start perusing the text for mistakes you'll just tie yourself up in knots. Some of my best poems were created this way. It can be a bit tricky to get the hang of it. So I suggest setting the alarm at five minutes or something like that at first.
That's all for this time!

Yesterday was the last therapy-session. It might sound like a wierd comparison but it feels sort of like when I had to leave the boardingschool in Åsa after two years. A bit sad, a bit scary and at the same time exhilarating. But how can I compare leaving school with leaving therapy, you might ask? Well firstly, in both cases I found a place where I at length felt secure enough not to hide myself behind a mask and it's feels intimidating having to leave. Secondly, I forged a kind of bond, respected and got respect in return from the others in the group. The third likeness is that both times I have grown as an individual and can stand firm in a way I couldn't before. But just because I'm stronger after these ten sessions doesn't mean that I don't need to keep working. Quite the contrary. I've only just started. The others in the group felt a bit the same so we've decided to keep on seeing each other once a week to talk and work together.

Medical update: Last week I had a meeting with my doc. Since I haven't reacted negatively in any way since we started lowering my doses we decided to keep going. We lowered the dose on two of the meds and if everything feels fine in six weeks we will remove one of them entirely! 

This post will be quite long since I've added the lyrics to a song I like.
Yesterday was the first time since my relapse that I wore short sleeves in public. The temperature outside was about 24 degrees Celsius. Anyway, I took a long walk down to the dock and back home. I had a thin summer jacket on and an equally thin jumper and by the time I reached the dock I was so warm I had to take the jacket of and roll up the sleeves of my jumper. I could have taken the jumper off as well I guess but I didn't feel comfortable enough.

Of course people stared and some commented but I'm used to it by now. I mean, I have the same right as everyone else to go around in a t-shirt if I like. Today when I was on my way home from therapy, three girls came towards me with one of those cans where you can put money as a donation. The girl holding the can started asking me if I would like to give some money to the organization but then she saw my arms and her eyes went wide open. Like I was some kind of freak. I looked back at her and then walked off. It's not as if I don't understand those who stare, I know it can look scary if you're not used to it. It's the fact that some people are so quick to judge you that ticks me off. There is a new song that relates to this. It's called "Skin" and it's from the band Sixx A.M. If you want to hear the song, you can find it on Youtube, just search for "Skin". Here are the lyrics:

Verse 1
Paint yourself a picture
of what you wished you looked like.
Maybe then they just might
feel an ounce of your pain.
Come into focus,
step out of the shadows.
It's a losing battle,
there's no need to be ashamed.

Refrain:
'Cause they don't even know you,
all they see is scars.
They don't see the angel,
living in your heart.
Let them find the real you,
buried deep within.
Let them know with all you've got,
that you are not your skin

Verse 2
When they start to judge you
show them your true colors,
and do onto others
as you'd have done to you.
Just rise above this,
kill them with your kindness.
Ignorance is blindness,
They're the ones who stand to lose.

Refrain

Vers 3
Same as the refrain.

Sorry I haven't posted in a while, things have been somewhat topsy-tervy what with therapy, work och so on. Still working on it though. Summer's approaching now and right on cue I start thinking about what the hell I'm supposed to do now that my scars are back. I had just started to feel relatively at ease wearing short sleeves in the company of others and I could fib when needed without feeling all hot and bothered. The easiest way to cover up would be by wearing long sleeves the whole summer but there are alternatives. Thought I'd make a short list.

* There are different types of makeup/creams that you can buy that may cover up or partly conceal. I did this for my brothers graduation from high school, although I simply used some foundation since I had been for a spray-tan a couple of days before. Plus I didn't know of any other products I could use. They were still visible but not as obvious as they could have been.
* If your scars are mostly on your upper arms there are summer tops or dresses that have three-quarter sleeves.
*You can also wear three-quartersleeved tops with a collection of bracelets. This way you can look classy and feel secure at the same time.

Of  course, everythings individual. If you have other suggestions feel free to post a comment.

I know I said I would give you guys an update yesterday, after the first session, but to tell the truth I was completely knocked out afterwards. In every way you can be knocked out. Except unconsiousness.
The first thing we did, after introducing ourselves, was to each take a blank paper and on it write or draw something that symbolises our life. Then we were to show the others and kind of explain a bit about what we had written or drawn. One girl for example wants to be a musician and studies music at college, so her drawing had lots of elements relating to that. I wrote about how I felt at the moment, during the day and what my goal is. Then we were divided into two pairs (we are only four in the group) and set to answer a number of questions, with group discussion afterwards.

At the end of the two hours we set up a few basic rules. For example that the phones are to be shut of or on silent mode if you're expecting an important phonecall. It's ok to leave the room for a few minutes if things get too difficult, stuff like that. We also got a sheet of paper with different themes that we could go through over the next nine sessions. One of these was sharing your story. That's next week. That one's going to be a real bugger although it's important for us to understand each other from the get-go. Going today was tough but felt right, and I'm proud of myself. That's something everyone should remember: When you accomplish something, no matter how big or how small that "something" is, be proud. After all, you've crossed a mental line. Setting up a goal and then passing it.

Tomorrow the group therapy starts. Ten weeks of talking, listening and working with different kinds of exercises. I have a long list of "What if?". What if it doesn't work? What if it has the opposite effect? What if I don't dare to speak? On and on. I think the hardest thing will be actually daring to speak in front of the others. If I just pass that hurdle I have a feeling it will work out one way or the other,
 I'll post an update tomorrow.