Iridescent Spirits

Shelter of a constantly changing Soul.


Leave a comment

Little Words, Huge Worlds

I have been sitting on this post way more than it was necessary.

There were tons of things and stuff happening to me lately. I don’t even know where to start.  Maybe I should start by mentioning I have moved to Budapest (the capital of Hungary) half a year ago. To be exact on 4 September …

… because I started university. Yes. I decided to try myself in Japanese, even though I already have a university degree in English. I felt studying on my own and taking a language examination in itself won’t be sufficient for me to step into the next level. And to be honest, I didn’t think of myself as someone creative enough to prevail with my Japanese knowledge(?) in a small town where there is almost no need for Japanese speaking people.

hungarymap2

 

I didn’t know the city, nor anyone living here and nobody came along with me. I had had in mind, that it would be very difficult and both phisycally and mentally tiring, especially since I have to work besides studying, for my family cannot support me. But I had thought I had to take this step so I took it.

Let’s be honest. It IS scary. Even after months have passed by. I’m sure it would be scary for most people, but it is super hardcore for someone with a mental illness. Super hardcore. Period.

Anxiety is not easy in itself and I can confidently say that I have managed to lose my initial goal. What was that again? I am not even willing to go back and read the first paragraph. It is quite okay there, what has happened that has happened. Although, I am still more than ready to throw everything away and go back to the life I had before I moved here. This is one of the things that have kept me away from blogging; I was so overwhelmed by my depression that I have felt everything I had written were some serious crap.

Besides the circumstances, and believe me at this point those are the least important, something has changed. Maybe this blockhead has slowly started to learn the lessons needed.

I have just posted something very little. It is too little in fact, comparing to everything that has happened to me lately, and comparing to those sooo many things I’d want to say out loud. But that post was bigger than I first thought it would be. It made me feel extremely anxious when I was about to hit the publish button of something so stupid and uninteresting. It was the same feeling that I felt when I published my very first post ever. It was scary af, but I LOVE this feeling. This is what I need, I don’t know I just simply need it. It did not only race my heartbeat but raised my mood as well. That led me to a serious revelation; I have stepped out of my comfort zone, just to shut myself into a more uncomfortable one.

So, now I won’t reread this, won’t think about anything, just hit publish and I go to my job in that bittersweet reality.

 

27f84c8095cdfd23b2d63ab72d4a77cb


Leave a comment

For Starter…

81736366bb7dcf4c4dcb353fa337395d

As for the first thing to write about in the new year, I have to tell you something important. Though, earlier I said I don’t believe in making resolutions, there was something I wanted to try. (By clicking the link you’ll se what I’m talking about, and by the way I’d like to thank the reader who somehow found this older post of mine and reminded me of one of my most important goals in my life 🙂 )

My last year was good and bad, but considering my mental health, which affected my life the most I have to say it was awful. Even despite the fact that I was/am medicated. And this is the point. A few weeks ago I realized something terrible and scary as hell. As a result (or side effect) of my medication I started losing the ability to feel. I couldn’t cry and couldn’t even laugh. Considering this, it is no surprise I was away from blogging, right?

After that realization, I decided I would stop taking medications. I had had my problems even before I started using tranquilizers but the problem was they remained and even got stronger after I got my treatment.

Now, I am taking one pill in every third day instead of taking them each day. In the beginning, it was awful, painful and frightening. Now, I am a bit clumsy, forgetful and goofy, but I have emotions and feelings as well. That is progress! Hopefully, soon I’ll be able to live and cope without any drug and I can gain back the control over my mind and life as well.

As for blogging, I won’t promise anything, I just wanted to tell you all of this.

Happy new year and have a nice day Everyone!

Cheers^^


2 Comments

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


Leave a comment

Me is Strange…

period or question mark?

In other words, panic disorder uncovered..

I realised that though I say my most important goal is to overcome my illness and to make people be more aware of mental illnesses I rarely speak about what I go through. Well, that’s not particularly true but stil…

Yep, my fantasy stories are about my feelings and experiences and yep I have loads to say but as you could see, there are times when I just disappear and nothing happens to my blog. At these times something inside me cracks.This is usually because I’m scared. Scared like hell. Really. Firstly, because I’m simply not good at speaking my mind. Or I should say, I’m too afraid to speak my mind. In order not to hurt others my words end up misunderstood as if I was speaking some alien language. My thoughts usually wander over several stuff and by the time I get to say them out loud or write them down, those prettily constructed lines in my head end up as a mass of incoherent and meaningless pile of words simply put together.

Also, there is that tipically inconfident way of thinking that if I say what’s on my mind then people won’t like me. But to be honest, I’ve already realised that being silent instead of exposing myself has more harmful effects. Silence can lead to ignorance pretty easily. Just think of the sky above us, if it’s clear and nice how many times do you look up and cherish what a great weather it is today? But when there’s a thunderstorm all of us hides inside their safe homes waiting for the storm to end. Maybe that’s why I like stormy nights, maybe I envy them..

Continuig the listing of my anxieties, there is also that subconscious self-sabotage thingie. That’s hellish a demon. Right when you get an awesome idea, the scars you’ve got throughout the years that had already passed by all of a sudden start to speak to you, telling you cannot do this, and there are so many people on this world why would you be the one who succeed? This is an awesome question, though there is no concrete answer for it. Just feelings. I could be satisfied with my job and the fact that I have a somewhat stable financial source. Additionally, of course, as soon as I leave for home at the end of day I can do whatever I want. There are no homeworks, or exams to study for, in my freetime I am perfectly free.  Yet, instead of doing nothing, for some inexplicable reason I insist on keep on blogging keep writing not only as a therapy. The strong feeling of getting somewhere, find my place in the world and something I love doing.

Also, not to mention that I’m a real introvert. I need time to open for people and while I’m at it, in the world of work (equals reality) I’m not that free to talk about my illness. That makes a huge wall between me and the people I’m surrounded with. Interestingly enough, when I tell someone about panic disorder I immediately open up as I don’t have anything left to hide. But until I have to act according to outer rules like answering an immediate ‘no’ to the question ‘Do you have any hidden illnesses?’ that thick wall around me remains solid and impervious. Tht’s why I sit separately in the canteen, that’s why people cannot find a mutual insterest with me immediately. They look at my exhausted, pale face, my sunken shoulders and their expressions turn into really careful and they speak to me as if it was hard to me to understand a simple sentence. They do this without thinking, I’m quite sure, but it still bothers me. Sometimes I think I was born to the wrong place but that’s the story of another post…

The girl has often been scolded by the grownups around her for saying what is in her mind. People have said that she does not distinguish between reality and her imagination. The shape and color of her thoughts seem to be very different from those of other people. She can’t understand what they consider so wrong about her. In any case, she had better not tell anyone about the Little People.

(Haruki Murakami, 1Q84 book two)

The windstorm of yesterday beheaded the rose that had just bloomed.

Me is strange

period or question mark?


2 Comments

The Tear of Yesterday is the Hymn of Tomorrow

First of all, I’m really really sorry for my long-long absence. I’ll be honest, I hated this period when my whole world turned upside-down and I didn’t have any idea how to balance my duties and all the things I like the most. It was hard, hateful, utterly exhausting and full of negativity. Duties..we all know these very well, but what I forgot, I have duties towards myself as well.

I missed blogging, my shelter and the people here, and maybe because of this I couldn’t find my place anywhere the wind of change swept me. I’ve let all the unimportant things to occupy my mind, and thus I was mislead from what is important to me. I did what I never wanted to; left the path I should walk on and that I managed find the hardest way. I also forgot about myself, my panic disorder that makes me unique, and let the circumstances make me believe I’m completely worthless only because I’m a little different.

The vicious circle started again, constant anxiety, panic attacks, sickening inconfidence, self-doubt, fear of speaking my mind and so on. I simply forgot how to care for myself. But you know what? I’ll restart all this learning process, I will do my best, let it be anything, let it be extraordinary, strange or even ridiculous; I’ll be me, I’ll keep writing my own fairy tale. Because I don’t want to feel this pain again and more importantly because it just has been proven that I cannot live my life any other way.


3 Comments

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.


4 Comments

The Panic Project #3: Monsters

Crawling in the dark, he steals your most precious possessions without you noticing it.

His deformed shape sheds the most terrible shadows on the purest and most beautiful things. Even he’s walking with a drag he’s faster than her. She feels utter disgust in his presence yet he just crawls closer and closer to her and she cannot do anything about it. No matter how hard she is trying to back down he’s immediately behind her back. He let’s her feel safe for a moment as he is out of sight but as soon as she smells the rotting scent of the gnome, he stabs her right in the heart.

With the golden dagger in her chest, he lets her fall behind. While her blood fills the cracks of the stone floor like little red springs, he stands there doing nothing. And then, comes his master, the purest and most majestic yet the most obscure creature in the world. The exact opposite of the little gnome, his strong presence makes even the botched little beast be afraid.

She’s still lying on the hard and cold floor half-dead, half hearing the conversation between the two. None of them were about to help. All of a sudden, a monstrous face appears in front of her, she cannot decide if it is reality or imagination. Then, a gruff voice starts echoing in her head,

“Do you know who I am?”

Next post on 21 March. Stay tuned!