Iridescent Spirits

Shelter of a constantly changing Soul.


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Regrets – Writing 101 Day 3

Though I’m pretty young, I already have many regrets. For example the thing that I wasn’t confident enough when in my childhood I wanted to learn to play the violin and (only) one teacher said no. I regret not being able to stand up for myself despite the fact that I knew very well what I wanted and what my spirit needed. After all, almost twenty years later my love for the beautiful sound of the violin is still as strong as it used to be, if not stronger. I think, now I would be someone different, richer in spirit if that didn’t happen to me. Sometimes I even think I wouldn’t suffer from panic disorder either. I also regret abandoning playing the piano on a sudden whim that ‘it’s not violin’. There was a time when I felt I would start my life all over again just because of these.

Although, I firmly believe that everything has its own reason. 

I believe there is a point of all the struggles I had to went through and what I am going through even right now. There is a meaning behind my own inconfidence that made me losing my path. There is also a meaning behind the uncertainity and the constant urge to do something valuable that would not let me rest and sit patiently waiting for a miracle that would never happen on its own. For some reason, I had to switch my road to a rough one to finally find, by travelling longer, what I was created for. I believe I need(ed) all the pain to learn how to appreciate myself and more importantly, learn how to listen to the inner voice that is never wrong.

And last but not least it is important to learn to let go all of the fears and those exact inconfidences that were and still are present in my life. To let go all of the anxiety, the pressure I subconsciously put on myself and everything that binds me, prevents me from being myself hiding behind the well-made mask of panic disorder.

So, in the end do I regret all these things I listed above? Sometimes I still do, after all I’m just a human too.

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Things My Panic Disorder Taught Me – Writing 101 Day 2

Life in itself is a coursebook with lessons to learn. Only it becomes a bit thicker if it is coloured with a certain mental disorder. Here is a short but very consistent list on what my panic disorder taught me:

  • Even though there are problems in my life I have to solve on my own, I’m never alone.

I mean, really. This is the hardest thing to admit, right? We, humans, all love to suffer, accuse others for our misfortunes and it all goes right until we bump into someone, who desires to help without any second thoughts. Then our whole view of the world goes upside down and if we are lucky enough we can finally learn to see the bright side of life. Watch out mates, these people do exist! Thankfully 🙂

  •  Sometimes, actually most of the time, I am the only one who knows what’s the best for me.

I know, this is going a bit against the first point but this is another important lesson I’ve learnt…the hardest way. Just think about it. At times when we are inconfident we tend to ask advice even in matters that don’t really affect other people besides us. Furthermore, there is that very annoying situation when we know exactly what we should do, but since it seems harder or a bit nonsensical we may end up doing what others think is best even though it’s result will be boring or unsatisfying for us. Then we think; ‘oh man, I should’ve done what I wanted to’. Rings a bell? And when we end up in a mess not listening to our intuitions? Nope, nope. Though, I have to say, I don’t mean we should never look for advice or take care of the opinion of people around us it’s just we have to learn to make a difference between healthy selfishness and sacrifice.

  • I am my biggest critique.

Literally. Have you ever been in a situation, or I should say in such a bad period of your life when you constantly thought people around you do nothing but tease you, deceive you and even talk about you behind your back? That you were so cautious not to say anything inappropriate that you ended up like as if you weren’t even there? Because you were afraid they would take all of your words and actions in the exact opposite way you meant them? If not then you are a very lucky dude. I have and it was a horrible feeling.
It is like you always have to be en guard to be able to protect yourself because you take every little sigh, words and actions of others as a potential threat.
Thankfully by now I have managed to clear this exhausting misunderstanding that occupied my mind. Most of these thoughts were ignited by my own imagination and self-hatred. A frighteningly incontrollable menace of my own darkness.

Maybe some of these points sound familiar to you or even may help to realise and face your own problems if you have any. That would be great!
If not then thanks for your time 😉


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Restart – Or Why I Write (Writing 101)

Have you ever felt like you must do something extra or at least not so ordinary? I’m sure you have. Or have you ever felt like that your thoughts are engaged something completely nonsensical? Let me explain this.

Here is me, a perfectly ordinary(-looking) young adult, with a certain qualification and a certain job. I have my own struggles with money and life just like everyone else. I also have to mention that I live in a very small town, in a very small country. To someone like me nothing extraordinary could be expected in life. I finished schools, I have a job, probably I will get married one day, have kids and I will work and raise my children until I can retire. That’s it. And here is where we all freak out. That’s it!? Really? At this point, I have to say I’m well aware that lots of people go through this period. I know. But!

Continuing with my example here’s this blog thing. Again, I know, I’ve been a very bad girl, not writing (that’s not really true) or posting (well, that’s true) anything for a while now. I do feel bad about it. But to be honest, the urge never disappeared. For some inexplicable (yeah, I did learn that there is a word like this :D) reason, I feel I have to write the story that’s inside me. Apart from the cliché thing. I do have a story, that’s a bit gory, scary and dark but it’s mine, only it has to evolve, just like me. And I feel excited about it! Even if I’m not writing, I always think about it, creating actions, complication, and also I try to analyze in the terms of my own mental health problems. I really wish I could draw so I could see the scenes I have hard times to write. So I guess I could say I wasn’t completely idle. This time, the urge is stronger, and that’s how it should be I think.

Pinterest

Pinterest

All in all..

I write because I have to. I don’t know why or what for, but this is the beauty of it. 😉


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The F Word

Last night I got a very uplifting message from one of my blogger friends. I have to admit we are real friends now and after talking about our everyday stuff and so on, she told me she’s missing my posts. Well, I miss them too.

To be honest, I didn’t truly disappear from WordPress. I did something worse than that. I came up, read some blog posts, liked them, and even started writing my own stuff. But then, all the great and meaningful ideas that made me writing lost their purpose. I felt that whatever I do was pointless and perfectly stupid. Unfrotunately, this was true for everything I’ve done even outside the blogosphere. I told my friend that I gave up. Not only on blogging but basically everything. I felt that I’m worthless, useless and that I’m perfectly nothing. You know, that is the most dangerous thing about depression. It can control your mind and if you let it it will eventually take the leading role of all of your life. What is more, it does it without you noticing it. Though, at the beginning you just feel something is not right but cannot really name the monster that crawled up from under your bed right into your thoughts. No matter how hard you try you cannot reveal it, because you can’t find it in it’s regular place anymore. After some point, you even may give up searching. I have to say this is one of the worst things I’ve ever done in my life.

I can remember how afraid I was when I handed in my draft of the very first story to writing class, and also I can remember how afraid I was when I published that same story on the blog I started back then. This blog I mean. I was so terrified of what people would say about what I hadwritten. I was scared they would hate it, criticise it or simply they wouldn’t understand it. But I also remember what a great relief and delight it caused me when I read the comments either here in the comments section or on the handouts I got back from my classmates.

Yes, there is something that can petrify me – all of us –  but as soon as I manage to get rid of that frozenness and follow my inner voice I will eventually get my reward for the persistence to keep on fighting. I just cannot let myself forget about this.

So, do you know now what that “F” stands for?

In the hope of meeting again soon,
Adri


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When I said I want to make my fairy tales reality I didn’t mean I wanted to end up as the Monster in the Forest…

I know I’ve been waaay too much away but I had my reasons. Writer’s block would be here a lame excuse and in fact this time, this is not what it’s all about.

I’ve been struggling both as an introvert and also as someone who fights mental illness secretly and all alone. It’s not enough that panic disorder and all mental illnesses are heavily stigmatized they are complex and living their own lives while creating newer and newer hardened by time problems.

One of this in my case is that heavy compulsion for conformity of mine. I’ve always been the weakest of the pack wherever I’ve been and the one who obeyed even if I didn’t want to. The other day, someone actually told me (after a few days of acquaintance) that I’m a type who can easily be used so not to be surprised if I am getting stepped on. The other thing is that I never trust anybody, so I speak the least of my personal problems, even the least ones. I am simply afraid of people, labelling me as a weenie, like they had done it so many times in the past. I am afraid that no one understands me, as even my closest people, who are well aware of my disorder, acts like as if I had no special problems, only a little of sloth and stuff like this. In fact, it became incredibly hard to live this way. I feel like I’m all alone with this struggle and sometimes I’m terribly afraid that I could go mad in any minute. I’ve picked up an extremely (and sometimes aggressively) defensive attitude, avoiding any confrontation, and being highly conscious of picking the words I say that could not be misunderstood so easily. In other words I am afraid of being myself. I feel like I am like a thin glass that could be shattered by even a gentle breeze, and I’m fed up with this.

The other day, or maybe weeks ago, I don’t know now, I found a great post shared by luckyottershaven, about sensitive people. It is a great article telling everything that needs to be known about these kind of people way better than I ever could, I highly recommend it, if you’re interested you can read it here:

“How Highly Sensitive People Interact with the World Differently”

The other thing with my high sensitivity and the one that has something to do with my decline in blogging, is that I’ve been suspecting for a while now, that I am working with a narcissist, in twelve hours a day. Most of you know well that how abusive narcissists are and if you read the article above, now you see how mentally tiring and destructive it is for me. I’m not complaining I just had to give it out. I’m tired and angry. I would be really happy if people could be more considerate towards others, not only towards people with mental illness but also towards all of us.

Because after all..

mad


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Let the Monster Out

Loss does not have to be bad. Losing of something that you had throughout a longer period of your life – or even for the most part of it – is always hard but not necessarily bad.

The reason why it is hard, it’s because that thing has grown into you so much you start fear losing it. I believe this is the same with that so-called comfort zone. Where you feel convenient, it’s a place that is peaceful and nothing bad can happen. Well, at least in theory..

The problem with the comfort-zone is the same as it’s good side; withdrawnness. It’s not only that nothing can come in, but you cannot go out of it too. Have you thought about it this way?

Locking things up in yourself can hardly be a solution to any kinds of problems, no matter what others say. The monster they warned you about. The one that can ruin your life with one movement from the very start of it. The one you were so afraid of that you closed it inside of a dark and frighteningly scary place on its own.

Just let that monster out. You cannot know what it thinks or how it feels. Also, you can never know what it will find once it finally sees the light. Maybe, you think it would only cause you harm but what if it was you who hurt that creature? Maybe that monster will be the one who answers your hardest questions. Just let it out finally.
Because, how do you know if it’s truly a monster?


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Cradle Nightmare

During dark nights, when everyone sleeps in silence, he, who comes without invitation, wakes the child. She sleeps in the cradle, though a bit bigger already, she wakes up in the middle of the night, for noises unknown. She stands up, clings onto the bars of the cradle, calls for her mom with fear, but she never comes, as she’s sound asleep in the room of the other side of the dark house.

The dark shape enters the house, takes its way to the children’s room. He slowly comes closer, the light of the moon shines through the glass of the front door, enough for the child to notice the uninvited figure but instead of making it clear to see, the moon gives him an even fearful silhouette.  The little girl trembles, cries for her parents but no one hears her.

All of the sudden, it’s silence again, in the pitch dark house, everyone’s peacefully asleep as if nothing has happened. The frightful man disappeared but the little girl cannot sleep alone for ever. Years pass by, no answers found, but during stormy nights the silhouette comes backs for his moonlit visits to scare the now adult child.

Now, the toys, that never existed, have been sitting lined up on an iron shelf, start moving at their own will. They start walking but all of their movements are staggered only to after one or two steps, they fall off the shelf lifelessly. Maybe, they were brought by the shady shape, maybe they were lined up there, in a previous life. Whichever the case is, they can never leave the shady room, of dim memoirs. Neither does the child, who is still waiting for someone to rescue her, in the cradle of frighteningly dark nights.