Iridescent Spirits

Shelter of a constantly changing Soul.


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Togetherness of Creative, Abstract Humans suffering from Mental Illnesses

I love this one. All my thoughts and feelings here written way better than I ever could. Also, a great source of encouragement..the thing that we may be lonely, but we are not alone ❤
Promise, I’ll try my best to hold myself together and be back to the blogging world.

GentleKindness

Each of us sits alone and writes about our individual mental torment. At any given time of the night or day, there are many of us sitting at our computer writing of how we feel alone.

We write about how the others do not believe in our suffering because they cannot see it. People tend to believe what they can see and touch.

I have found that abstract minded, creative people tend to suffer from mental suffering. This is exasperated by the fact that abstract , creative people are in the minority.
As well as the fact that people with mental illness are in the minority.

Being in two minority groups puts us into a further minority. This is one of the reasons we feel so alone and misunderstood. A lot of the time, we are misunderstood by the others. We are alone in our mental suffering a lot of…

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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.


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A Little Bit of IridEssence

I’ve always had a pretty peculiar relationship with music. Ever since I was a child I liked classical music, especially the sound of violin, and it has never ceased to cause me goosebumps. I especially like instrumental music. That provides me with freedom and enlivens my whole existence. Whenever I listen to a song I love my brain becomes clear and the pain of the sometimes grievous real world disappears and only me and my imagination exist. My brain immediately starts creating colourful pictures irrispectively of where I heard that certain song or what music video it has. It urges, encourages and helps me tell my story.

All in all, music is what inspires me the most. Not only does it provide me with inspiration but also it is the biggest source of energy of mine. Whenever I feel sad, powerless or worn out, I hit the play button, the key to my imagination, and I disappear into my very own, safe and hidden world, which however dark can be never fails to fill me with light.

Now, let me present you with a little piece of my Imaginary World. 🙂

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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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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.


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“Well, dear. I firmly believe that every one of us has some powers. Each different, that affects differently others around us. One is more visible, the other is not. But I am certain that such unexplainable powers do exist and we only need to find them inside us”

– Grandma from Viridian – The legend


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My Inspiring Role-models

Yesterday, I posted four blogs, more correctly four posts from different blogs, that grabbed my attention so I commented on them. Today, I will choose one of them to talk about why and what I commented and share my further thoughts on the topic.

The post I chose today was on role models. The writer of the post mentioned their role models and what they taught them, and how these models helped them throughout hardships. Let them be parents, friends or even celebrities. You can read the post here:

https://kandyandy.wordpress.com/2015/01/14/role-models/

I mentioned two celebrities, two musicians, namely Lindsey Stirling, also known as the “Dancing Violinist”, and the Belgian singer-songwriter Stromae. I said although I’m not a musician myself (but my childhood dream is to learn to play the violin) not only I like their music but also they and their uniqueness inspires me and knowing a bit of their backgrounds encourages me to have courage facing my own hardships and being unique and different is not bad at all.

Those who may know Miss Stirling, are probably aware of that she had eating disorder and she managed to overcome it. I am suffering from panic disorder which is quite similar to anorexia, and whatever she tells about her illness I always feel like she’s talking right to me. Moreover, although earlier she had been rejected for what she does, she became successful on her own. And this is very inspiring and encouraging. So here’s a song from her which is about her illness and is exactly what is happening to me right now.

My other role-model is Stromae. I’m sure lots of you know him and his music. The reason why he became my role-model is his honest and provocative lyrics, he always tells the truth about life and about this deceiving world. Also, he said something that immediately made him my role-model for life.

“I’m ridiculous, you are ridiculous, we are. Everybody is ridiculous in this place.”

Isn’t he right? So, here’s one of his songs about a childhood without a father (the same is true to me too). And though, the lyrics are quite sad the music is great and always cheers me up.

Thank you for reading and have fun listening to these awesome musicians. 🙂