Iridescent Spirits

Shelter of a constantly changing Soul.


Leave a comment

It’s a win, right?

Oookay, it has been a long time since any kind of a post, especially a behind the stories one! Which means, you can read the latest one titled Slivers. (And share and like and whatever if you liked it. 🙂

Now, I wouldn’t take too much of your time explaining the content of the story simply because I think it speaks for itself.
However, I would gladly read your opinions in the comments!
In short, it’s a clear (character?) development that everyone – inclusively – goes through in life one way or another. But! What really important about this story is that it was actually written for a short story contest. No, actually not, when I started writing it I just felt so dang exhausted and exploited that it somehow just started to write itself and then I worked more on it to be qualified for the contest. So I’m just going to keep going with that. But still…

The three best stories won money and the twenty best stories – including the first three – got landed on pubic advertising boards across the country. Imagine this! How awesome would it be to be published like that especially for the very first time! Needless to say, my story couldn’t make it to the twenty. And it hurt a lot because I thought that this is the best I have ever written so far. Actually it is. And it all felt in vain. I admit it I let myself mourn over it a bit because while I was waiting for the results, I started working on another story for another contest with so much passion that I have not felt in years and it ruined it all for me. I didn’t want to sit and write regardless of the fact that I haven’t written anything in years and I was motivated enough to come up with two different ideas at least due to this contest. I just didn’t like how it felt. I didn’t want to be run down by this, it just seemed useless and it completely took away the fun of it. One single contest…really?? No. I’m not even sure if they read every submission at all to be honest.

Then I remembered why I had created this blog. I did this because I didn’t want to sit and wait for someone to decide if my stories worth to be shared I just wanted them to be shared. No, actually they want themselves to be shared. They always do… Needless to say it always feels good if you get acknowledged or appreciated for what you are doing…BUT I started to write for my own sake, to feel free and to get rid of everyday stress and to understand more of myself and my anxiety. Rethinking about this calmed me down and regained interest in my stories. So basically, I won.

Now, I’m hesitant if I should participate in that other contest or not because I don’t want to focus on whether I win or lose but I’d rather focus on creating something that has ME in it. Full caps. Yes, that’s it. That’s the most important. Guess this is also part of the learning process. Either way, I’m not saying that now I’m going to post to my blog twice a week but doing some more creative work is the plan and to find the fun in it again and then…we’ll see the rest.

Now if you haven’t done so go and read Slivers! 🙂

Advertisements


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


5 Comments

Shh..

shh

 

They say it a lot.

“Don’t tell anyone about it… about your life, as there are poor spirited people who feed themselves on others’ pain. Or they make use of it on your disadvantage. Just hide it, hide everything and you will be fine.”

They say it a lot.

But they never say that silence can be more harmful than knowledge.

What if they knew all about me? My past, my illness and all the things they don’t know, and all the things that make me seem strange in their eyes. My past is past. My illness is still with me. And in fact, I feel much better when someone knows about my panic disorder. I use it not as an excuse for my behaviour, but it sets me free. Once I say it out loud ‘I have panic disorder’ all my fears disappear. I stop thinking about what they think about me. They know it and they can do with that info whatever they want. I am not afraid. Maybe because most of the time people cannot say a word as they had never met the illness before.

Maybe there are situations when I shouldn’t talk about it, people that shouldn’t know about it, but to be honest, I really don’t know how they could hurt me with this knowledge. Yet, I am well aware that poor spirited people can come up with the most incredible methods of trying to tear someone down.

But I am still wondering about this; Should I remain silent under any circumstances? Or I should ask just this; Under any circumstances?


3 Comments

Am I invisible?

Yeaaah.

No, wait.

There has always been this problem around me. Depression and stuff grew so much onto me that I usually felt I’m invisible. They didn’t notice me on the streets, usually bumped into me, and always I was the one who didn’t have place on photos. People couldn’t even memorize my name, even though it is not that complicated, and also it is kind of old, easy, and I’m really happy that I didn’t get my name after the antagonist of a popular soap opera. People usually were/are so bad at remembering my name that they usually gave me new ones, the only thing that managed to stuck into their heads was the initial ‘A’, that has always been the only thing they remembered and I got my new names based on that. Even my psychologist (can you see the irony?) had a hard time remembering my name.

I sat right in front of him and he started, “Well, dear Andrea!” I couldn’t bear it anymore so I interrupted
“It’s Adrienn!”
“Excuse me, what is it?”
“I said, it’s Adrienn!”
“Oh, alright sorry Adrienn!” Then we kept talking for a maximum of five munites without any problem. Bang!
“So, dear Anette!”
“It’s Adrienn!!”
“Oh, sorry again…”

Now I mean can you really see the irony? After that had happened I almost expected to someone eventually call me Arshole. Really, I mean they always got the ‘A’ right, and nothing else. But I had to realise that this never will happen. And as for an extra gift today I got a letter from a site I signed up with the purpose of finding a job, I checked it I still have a valid account with my full name. I have to say I hardly read their messages as they are mostly spams but something caught my attention this time:

“Dear, First Name!”

C’mon! That doesn’t even start with an ‘A’! Oh, and by the way, thanks for the another brick to build my new self on! 😉


4 Comments

‘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:

Featured Image -- 300

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. 🙂

 


4 Comments

We All Are Warriors

We all have our problems, fears, duties and sometimes, no, actually pretty frequently our disorders. There are times when we all are afraid of lots of things. I told you a several times before I am usually afraid of showing my real self. There is no exception when it comes to blogging, unfortunately. There are drafts and half-written stories I am temporarily afraid to post because of the innate fear of judgement. The need to please others, remember? At times like this I like to escape to my dream world but nowadays I come back soon because I made a decision.

I decided that I want to create a better and happier future for myself. I had to realise that this decision was made more than in my mind, in my whole body, nerves and even tissues. These are that call me back from my imaginary world sooner than before. To do something, to create something, and make a better me. This is why I blog after all. I am here because I want to be here, where I happened to meet lots of people with similar problems and goals as mine. They are who give me strenght, their sole presence proving that I’m not alone. Those who try their best to rebuild themselves sometimes from ruins. The strength in these people is amazingly inspiring.

Here’s a song that always fills me up with hope and that urges me to love this half-full person who I am with all my flaws and the uniquness that my panic disorder provided me with. It can be a great thing, really. There is a good and bad side of everything, remember? Do not forget it ever.

I love the lyrics, and the video as well. Though, I’m not a big gamer myself, the symbolism in this one is pretty strong. My favourite is the fight in the clouds. Those shadows remind me of the harmful thoughts and hardships we all go trough, in other words our demons. Whenever I listen to this song I feel I have enough strength to win, to be one of the warriors I talked about.


2 Comments

Solid Self-esteem Pt. 2

Okay now, based on the previous post. I just got an idea how to improve my self-esteem a bit, not relying on other’s but relying on them at the same time.

Let me explain this.

I have an unhealthily low self-esteem, it’s a fact. As a result of this, I tend to lose heart at stuff I like, because I have pretty high expectations I feel I cannot live up to, and this makes me far too stressed to keep up the good(?) work. This need to be solved as soon as possible, so I came up with an idea that may help.

Here’s the method. I will compile all the comments from you guys and as well from others telling me you liked some of the stuff you found here and so on. Because these comment mean so much to me, you cannot even imagine. Then, I will make a montage from it and hang it on the wall right above my desk. So far so good?

True, at first thought this may seem self-praise and even suggest a tendency of egoism but in my case it’s definitely not that. Because, whenever I feel I cannot keep up blogging and writing, I’ll just look at them, and I will think, Okay, I made it once, twice, a few times, probably what I do is worthy, so why worrying? If I try I can possibly keep the pace, the quality and move towards to reach my goals. This sounds better now, right? Remember the example from the previous post? I’m not confident because of the job I have but because I can do that job. And it is an important difference.