Iridescent Spirits

Shelter of a constantly changing Soul.


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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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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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‘I love You!’ Or What Compassion Means to me

I struggled a lot with this post. One of my blogger friends said I have lots of things to say (and really!) and she told me to say them well. Well, I tried my best with this one and this is what happens when I’m writing while having a panic attack:

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This post is written for the 1000 Voices Speak for Compassion movement, I stumbled across a while ago. Lots of you may know that my initial goal with blogging would be reagining and developing my real self. This is a hard and long journey of mine, but I have to tell I feel very enthusiastic about it.

Compassion has always been one of my strongest traits. Or empathy, the two of them are equal to me. And not only these two, but also acceptance and support, loving a person for who they really are. These all fall into the category of compassion in my dictionary.

Ever since I was little I could feel sadness and sorrow for anyone, starting from a homeless person, through the sadness in the eyes of a little child and even towards a movie character. I had a strong desire to help anyone I could, while I forgot about the one person I should’ve taken better care for. It took me years to realise that while I am able to support lots of people in my life, I was completely incapable of being compassionate towards my very own self. I took all of the pain I had for granted just like breathing and seemingly, I accepted it as a solid part of my soul. Seemingly.

For so many years, I got told a lot that I’m weak, far too fragile and sensitive, and also that besides these, I don’t have any other problem so I shouldn’t say a word. Without noticing, I began to take over this attitude but only until I got the diagnosis of my panic disorder and I decided to start therapy in order to put an end to it. I remember, my very first ‘homework’ given by my psychologist, was to look in the mirror, examine myself deeply and say this right into my face;

‘My family and friends love me, God loves me, and even I love You, Adrienn.’

When I looked into the mirror I saw a face completely emotionless and fearfully strange to me. I thought to myself, I don’t know who this person is, and besides, who does this person thinks she is to say anything like this? I was supposed to repeat this single line a few times every day in front of the mirror. Yet at first I couldn’t even finish the sentence, I burst out into tears. For the time of the blink of an eye I managed to notice something really painful hiding in the depths of those dim and dark brown eyes, something that reached my heart. I saw the little girl living with her mom and sister after leaving an abusive and alcoholic father. I saw the little girl who was only 4 years old when said to her to let her father take more money to go back to the pub instead of having her mother hurt. I think that was the first time, I realised how sad, desperate and how broken I was. I cried because I pitied myself, as if I was looking at somebody else. I cried like a little child, like that little child who went through the hardships I tried so hard for years to forget. But it doesn’t work like that. I had to learn that these became the part of me and accept what others rejected, because I rejected it too. It was me who was unable to accept myself, so naturally, how could others do it for me? I also had to look at my naked body which was as horrible as looking at only my face.

And yet, despite I often felt no empathy towards myself, especially considering my mental illness, I never forgot how important being compassionate and supportive towards the struggling is. Or towards anybody. Probably it was because I longed for these feelings so much. Also, I couldn’t understand what those people were thinking or feeling when they told me those rude words. I still can’t. We all have problems and weaknesses but that’s fine, it is the part of learning and development as humans. Also, we all are unique and different. For example I went to university to another city so I had to go there and back by bus that took two hours of my live every single day. I hated it but didn’t have any other choice so I accepted it. It exhausted me like hell, as I usually had to get up at 5 am and got home at 8 or 9 pm. Once I told this a friend of mine, who shrudded and told me he did this for years. Yeah, for him it wasn’t a big thing, but to me it was too tiring and I couldn’t focus on my studies properly. When I told him that okay, then that’s him, and I am me he didn’t reply. Yeah… Maybe commuting was easy on him and hard for me but I wondered, would he be able to live with panic disorder for years? I never asked him but as far as I am concerned, it’s sure like hell that I would choose years of commuting instead of years of suffering on my own.

As for acceptance, sadly, it is a very rare thing to accept people for who they really are. We all tend to either look upon them, we make celebrities and stars out of them, thinking that ‘Oh, they are so unique and such rebels! How cool!’ Or the on the other side, we belittle those children who are a bit different from the ‘normal’ saying that ‘Oh! (s)he’s such a freak and so weird.’ Or am I wrong?

True, I rarely felt being supported or loved, yet I am willing to give others what I didn’t get. I do believe that there are people who think like me, and WordPress became a place not only precious to me but also the one that proved that wonders do happen. 🙂

 


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Did the Viridians really disappear?

(First of all, who were the Viridians? You’ll find the answer in Aquamarine.)

Seems so but I hope not. They were kind, unique and magical people. They helped others through hard times and showed people into the direction of the light. Though, they have been destroyed by those who enjoyed their courtesy. Rings the bell? I’m not surprised.

There are people like them, unique, kind and magical. And they are those who are supressed the most. Though, they don’t live in a forest but in a concrete jungle. They hide themselves instead of standing out because of harms they suffered earlier.

I know they exist. And I also know they will come back once again. Those who cry over this world of cruelty and deceit and wants to do something about it. These people are suffering from mental diseases, heavy anxiety and so on. Yet, they don’t give up. They won’t let the hardships destroy them anymore. They won’t scatter again and won’t take the shape of shadowy leaf-people. Also, they won’t let the forest die out again.

And I want to be one of them.

I won’t let others wither away the tree of my life anymore. I’ll grow my roots stronger, strengthen my trunk and fill my branches with blossoms once again. I will dance in the sparkling forest, the symbolic representation of my soul, happily. And I will embrace the scary shadows as well. I’m sure of it. 😉

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