This last Saturday - the most important day of the entire year, imo - I was at my 7th (!) Kamelot concert. Short as that.
And it was awesome!
Though depression hit me really hard quite a few times.
For instance when the two banners (that I and Cess, a friend of mine, had spent two entire days painting) lost nearly all the paint when I got the bright idea of washing them. Two days' worth of work gone in half an hour.
Or when A., another friend of mine, got ready for the show at my place (she's an out-of-towner, so she stays at my place when she's here). She looks amazing no matter what, and all that.
And when I was the reason for why we missed the 11:19 metro.
Also when I heard that this band guy was going to call A. when he was ready to meet us (note this; "us").
...And when I and Cess were left behind to re-paint the banners while the others went to meet the band(s). They didn't even tell us. Loud, sarcastic remarks have never been more appropriate.
Or when A got both a Guest and a Photo pass, ending up in the photographers' pit.
Not to mention when she started headbanging like crazy, standing next to me. The KamTV guy zoomed in a both a couple of my friends, who were on my left, and A., who was on my right-hand side. That was... Depressing.
And when Thomas pointed towards someone in the close audience who wasn't me. It was either A. or someone else, 'cause it sure as hell wasn't me the first time. I did tell him I'd be front row, though, and he did tell me to scream for them (Kamelot). So I did, and now I can hear my own voice on all the fan-recorded videos. SLIGHTLY embarrassing.
Another embarrassing moment was on the way home, when A. probably saved my legs or life or whatever by pulling me back when I walked straight into the street and there was a bus coming. My first thought was, though it was unintended; aw, damn, why the heck did you do that?
I told her that...
And also, I got quite a few comments and looks from people who (accidentally?) saw the scars on my arms. A few not-so-deep cuts are still red, while most of them have got that purple tint. A. twisted my arm around to see it all at some point in the queue... so at least I didn't have to worry about telling her, though she could've gotten to know it in a less embarrassing context.
But still... I did look at my own arms several times during the show, and the scars, especially the stitched one, were pretttty obvious... combine that with the tattoo and my trying to be someone makes it just pathetic.
I don't like the way that I am, I don't like the way I talk, and I definitely don't like how I adapt to/copy other people's ways when I'm around them. Like body language and how they speak. I've caught myself doing that way too many times now... Damnit.
However, one positive thing, at least; a chat with Thomas. And Olof saw me from the stage, that was just awesome. He recognized me and smiled :) and Elize saw our banners, which were hung from the edge of the balcony, pointed at them and mentioned the Facebook page. I felt proud then, but, again, left out because people didn't see me when they saw the banners, they saw the others. As a co-founder of the club and the one who did, like, 70-80% of the banner work, I must say that I should deserve some attention, no?
But back to Thomas... I showed him my tatto, and he liked it. That made everything worth it. I have only met two people yet who disliked it, but they changed their minds once I explained why I got it. I told Thomas the reason, and... well. We just stood there, chatting :) quite nice, actually. 2 1/2 hours of waiting was worth it.
Anywho...
I'm supposed to have a 15-minute German presentation in 5 hours. I haven't started it and feel anxiety creeping up on me at the thought of having to present something in a language that I'm not too good at. I'm still lacking the one letter that might save my education, and a delay of more than a week is not good. At all. So tomorrow... well...
Damn, I sound like a real blogger now, don't I?
Nobody cares. But my TWLOHA hoodie arrived on Thursday...
And if you know me in person, and you're reading this, welcome to my thoughts!
søndag 15. mai 2011
lørdag 30. april 2011
Path
I can't help but wonder if this is one of the million paths to insanity. I believe that insanity, in need of a better word, comes piece by piece, jigsawing its way into your life and mind. Damn, I just made that up!
Anyway.
I'm addicted to something. And it's not anything good, that's for sure. I'm scarring myself, probably for life (some of 'em aren't going to fade easily, that's for sure), and I don't mind. Sure, people will look at me, hence why I'm looking for 60- or 100-den skin-colored leggings. And I should start doing that cocoanut oil thingie that I've read about... if I start now, maybe some of the worst scars will be more faded by the time I reach 25.
I speak to myself, and I get answers from within my head. Pretty weird, that; I speak out loud, and there's this something putting thoughts into my head, as if I cannot think myself and I need help in order to do that.
Also, it all happens in a very British English. Not Norwegian, which is, like, my mother tongue and all. That's one of the weirder parts of all this.
This.. mess that I can't make any sense of, other than it's just... a mess. It's all in my head. It's all in my head.
So my head has to be pretty big, then, to hold all of that!
It's like... unidentifiable.
I watched Stephen Fry's documentary about his bipolarity, and I can't help but wonder if I'm bipolar as well... it's like a fashion thing. ADD, DDNOS, PTSD, ODC, a possible ED, bipolar disorder... My brain's rather fucked up and it's not all my fault. Well, not entirely, at least. Some I can "blame" on my genes, 'cause my mom has nearly the exact same symptoms as I do. According to someone, these things called disorders (actually, the Norwegian translation is just slightly amusing, I'll get back to that) are only defense mechanisms that my brain has developed to cope with traumas. And... is that a good thing? I mean, sure, it's okay to find coping mechanisms. But ones that are as destructive as these? I can get the dissociative part, that's reasonable, but the PTSD stuff? That's just bringing it all back in these so-called flashbacks and attacks ('cause they really are attacks). It's just... insanity? Hi, so good to see you. Will I be moved from the outpatient group now? That frightens me a little. I didn't realize until earlier this evening that I'm actually an outpatient at the psychiatric part of the university hospital. Dunno where I got it from, though.... Probably just read it somewhere. Must be that. Anywho... I've been daydreaming about going into the mental hospital, for reals, because then I might get actual helps about the things that bother me. Going to my psychiatrist now just annoys me, because whenever we bring up the topic of self-injury, which is... way too often, I think, I'm overwhelmed by this enormous frustration that I just can't put into words. She asks me all these things, and it's like... Sure, people tell me to get help for my SI because it crossed a point a few weeks back, but I keep wondering what kind of help that is. I mean... Yeah, talking about it, but I'm always asked to look for signs of when the urge comes, what triggers it, etc etc. BLAAAAAH because I CAN'T. I just CANNOT DO THAT. And it's annoying. VERY.
But back to the Norwegian translation of the term "disorder." It translates to "lidelse," which again translates to "suffering." Alright, "lidelse" can mean both "disorder" and "suffering" depending on the context, but still... You say that people suffer from a disorder, right? And in Norwegian we say that people suffer from, yeah, a suffering. Makes sense? Mhm. Very much so.
ANYWAY!
Insanity. That's funny.
And self-esteem... and all that. I keep seeing people all around me, so successful and happy, going to festivals and camps and stuff all summer, while I can barely afford going to one festival - because I will be working there instead of paying a fortune for a single-day pass in order to see 30STM and Linkin Park. So I'll be there for free and all that, only have to pay for alcohol, food and transport. And yes, alcohol's the first thing on the list. Ofc. And the rest of the summer? Well, I'll be working. Doing photography. Before a couple of friends from overseas will be visiting. That's like... the highlight of the year. And hopefully I will be able to afford spending money then... I assume I will be starving or something before that time to save money.
And that fact - that even though I have a fairly high "income" and can afford stuff, I still don't have the money that my friends have. They live at home, with their parents, they don't have to worry about whether or not they can afford buying new shoes now, a CD then, or going to a concert; they get things, and they don't seem to have problems getting up in the morning.
I nearly had a panic attack today while I was out walking, and it just came out of nowhere, I think... I got annoyed because of something and had to get home as quickly as possible, because I felt this incredible anxiety just take control over me. It was like... having all my muscles torn apart or something, a terrible feeling, and I just couldn't get rid of it. It made no sense to me, at all, and first of all it annoyed me. Simply because I couldn't control it.
But that's anxiety for ya... you can't control it, can't get rid of it unless you use everything you've got. And when you're rid of it, what happens then? What happens... when you relax?
It all comes crashing down on you. BOOM, like a bomb, a depression bomb that explodes in your head.
Wonderful.
It's just a wonderful feeling and I can't stop wondering if this is a step towards insanity.
It's a path that I'm walking on, and my feet are leading the way.
Anyway.
I'm addicted to something. And it's not anything good, that's for sure. I'm scarring myself, probably for life (some of 'em aren't going to fade easily, that's for sure), and I don't mind. Sure, people will look at me, hence why I'm looking for 60- or 100-den skin-colored leggings. And I should start doing that cocoanut oil thingie that I've read about... if I start now, maybe some of the worst scars will be more faded by the time I reach 25.
I speak to myself, and I get answers from within my head. Pretty weird, that; I speak out loud, and there's this something putting thoughts into my head, as if I cannot think myself and I need help in order to do that.
Also, it all happens in a very British English. Not Norwegian, which is, like, my mother tongue and all. That's one of the weirder parts of all this.
This.. mess that I can't make any sense of, other than it's just... a mess. It's all in my head. It's all in my head.
So my head has to be pretty big, then, to hold all of that!
It's like... unidentifiable.
I watched Stephen Fry's documentary about his bipolarity, and I can't help but wonder if I'm bipolar as well... it's like a fashion thing. ADD, DDNOS, PTSD, ODC, a possible ED, bipolar disorder... My brain's rather fucked up and it's not all my fault. Well, not entirely, at least. Some I can "blame" on my genes, 'cause my mom has nearly the exact same symptoms as I do. According to someone, these things called disorders (actually, the Norwegian translation is just slightly amusing, I'll get back to that) are only defense mechanisms that my brain has developed to cope with traumas. And... is that a good thing? I mean, sure, it's okay to find coping mechanisms. But ones that are as destructive as these? I can get the dissociative part, that's reasonable, but the PTSD stuff? That's just bringing it all back in these so-called flashbacks and attacks ('cause they really are attacks). It's just... insanity? Hi, so good to see you. Will I be moved from the outpatient group now? That frightens me a little. I didn't realize until earlier this evening that I'm actually an outpatient at the psychiatric part of the university hospital. Dunno where I got it from, though.... Probably just read it somewhere. Must be that. Anywho... I've been daydreaming about going into the mental hospital, for reals, because then I might get actual helps about the things that bother me. Going to my psychiatrist now just annoys me, because whenever we bring up the topic of self-injury, which is... way too often, I think, I'm overwhelmed by this enormous frustration that I just can't put into words. She asks me all these things, and it's like... Sure, people tell me to get help for my SI because it crossed a point a few weeks back, but I keep wondering what kind of help that is. I mean... Yeah, talking about it, but I'm always asked to look for signs of when the urge comes, what triggers it, etc etc. BLAAAAAH because I CAN'T. I just CANNOT DO THAT. And it's annoying. VERY.
But back to the Norwegian translation of the term "disorder." It translates to "lidelse," which again translates to "suffering." Alright, "lidelse" can mean both "disorder" and "suffering" depending on the context, but still... You say that people suffer from a disorder, right? And in Norwegian we say that people suffer from, yeah, a suffering. Makes sense? Mhm. Very much so.
ANYWAY!
Insanity. That's funny.
And self-esteem... and all that. I keep seeing people all around me, so successful and happy, going to festivals and camps and stuff all summer, while I can barely afford going to one festival - because I will be working there instead of paying a fortune for a single-day pass in order to see 30STM and Linkin Park. So I'll be there for free and all that, only have to pay for alcohol, food and transport. And yes, alcohol's the first thing on the list. Ofc. And the rest of the summer? Well, I'll be working. Doing photography. Before a couple of friends from overseas will be visiting. That's like... the highlight of the year. And hopefully I will be able to afford spending money then... I assume I will be starving or something before that time to save money.
And that fact - that even though I have a fairly high "income" and can afford stuff, I still don't have the money that my friends have. They live at home, with their parents, they don't have to worry about whether or not they can afford buying new shoes now, a CD then, or going to a concert; they get things, and they don't seem to have problems getting up in the morning.
I nearly had a panic attack today while I was out walking, and it just came out of nowhere, I think... I got annoyed because of something and had to get home as quickly as possible, because I felt this incredible anxiety just take control over me. It was like... having all my muscles torn apart or something, a terrible feeling, and I just couldn't get rid of it. It made no sense to me, at all, and first of all it annoyed me. Simply because I couldn't control it.
But that's anxiety for ya... you can't control it, can't get rid of it unless you use everything you've got. And when you're rid of it, what happens then? What happens... when you relax?
It all comes crashing down on you. BOOM, like a bomb, a depression bomb that explodes in your head.
Wonderful.
It's just a wonderful feeling and I can't stop wondering if this is a step towards insanity.
It's a path that I'm walking on, and my feet are leading the way.
mandag 25. april 2011
Spring?
As the title says... spring has finally come.
I can't wait for summer to come! There are major complications and worries associated with that season, but a lot of worries will also be gone then.
Even the single day that I consider the highlight of this season is hovering above my head like a black cloud full of rain. And the rain's going to fall harder than this.
Because alright, I went there. I met people. I did things that my friends at home couldn't. And they're jealous of me because of it.
That just makes me feel better about it... though a bit bad as well, because I just feel distanced. Left out. Again.
It's happening all again and I don't know how to stop it because there's this one person... who's better than me in everything. Me being a photographer? Forget it, they get all the passes. Allowances. They get the feedback and opportunities. They also have a clone, who might be a serious part of everything here in short time.
And they seem to like me, that's the weirdest part. I can speak fine with them, but I feel ugly, short, fat, stupid, and basically like a complete failure when being around them.
They're also among my best and favorite friends, to complicate matters further.
Anyway.
I had a good time those few days I was away, though returning (and not receiving any feedback from the ones I really would like to get feedback from) makes me feel like shit.
It's like they want me to think that if I do something like this, to have fun on my own, isn't accepted and that they should ignore me or something because of that.
Hah, starting to think that they actually listen to that girl. I managed to have her photomanip removed due to copyright infringement, and I haven't heard a word about it from anyone. Alright, I'm not the nicest of people, but damn, sometimes I want to kick life back. It keeps kicking me and pushing me down, I want to show it what it feels like. And on more than one occasion the someone/thing to receive the kick is a person. Sadly. Or it's myself. Ironic, huh? Mhm. Kicking myself because I feel like crap and want to fight back. So I can be mean and manipulative at times, but that's... those times I can't hold it in. Every day it's like... I feel like hitting someone or shouting at them, but I have to keep it in because I can't make a lot of sound. Wearing shoes that make sounds while I walk drives me crazy, same goes for if I find out that my bag's making any sound. That just... freaks me out and I do everything I can to make it be s i l e n t .
Soeh... well. I don't like getting attention, yet I crave it; I hate manipulative and indecisive people, yet that's what I am; I swore it never would get that far, yet that scar will remind me of my mistake for the rest of my life.
But that girl... I can't stop thinking about her. She's on my mind and I HATE IT. I'm constantly worrying about her, since we've got way too many common friends. And there's that concert in less than three weeks... I have to go because I promised, but she will be there and I'd rather not be going to the concert than meeting her there. Ofc, all our common friends know this. I know that she's avoiding me, and so is her boyfriend. She said she was fine with me being around, but I want to hit her 'cause her immaturity and stupidity screwed with my mind. I trusted her, I explained things to her 'cause she didn't understand... I explained and explained and explained... Am I just terrible at explaining the basics of how I work, or is she just terribly stupid? Live question marks aren't easy to explain stuff to, that I have to say.
If she's fallen into a depression? Great! Then she knows what I feel (and have felt) like! So yeah, depression's hell. I wouldn't mind her going through some sort of mental illness, she could use the experience. Maybe it'd open her eyes. And all that.
About mental illnesses, there is this album that I can't stop listening to.
A friend of mine recommended it to me, and I've fallen in love with it.
So you ought to check out Sixx: A.M.'s "The Heroin Diaries".
As the title says... it's about being addicted to heroin and the fight of getting away from it.
Though my addiction isn't that strong, nor is it that serious, but I can relate. SI is a fucking addiction, and staying clean for more than three days is a huge struggle now.
I promised myself that it wouldn't get this bad again.
Yet here I am...
A failure. Someone who's unable to keep good friends in real life (yeah, my best and most trusted friends live in foreign countries), someone who thinks she's going to get somewhere in this life but is already being crushed beneath the feet of someone younger and better, someone who shouldn't have gone to the emergency room two weeks ago, but stayed at home instead. That way the bleeding wouldn't have stopped and everything would've been fine.
I can't wait for summer to come! There are major complications and worries associated with that season, but a lot of worries will also be gone then.
Even the single day that I consider the highlight of this season is hovering above my head like a black cloud full of rain. And the rain's going to fall harder than this.
Because alright, I went there. I met people. I did things that my friends at home couldn't. And they're jealous of me because of it.
That just makes me feel better about it... though a bit bad as well, because I just feel distanced. Left out. Again.
It's happening all again and I don't know how to stop it because there's this one person... who's better than me in everything. Me being a photographer? Forget it, they get all the passes. Allowances. They get the feedback and opportunities. They also have a clone, who might be a serious part of everything here in short time.
And they seem to like me, that's the weirdest part. I can speak fine with them, but I feel ugly, short, fat, stupid, and basically like a complete failure when being around them.
They're also among my best and favorite friends, to complicate matters further.
Anyway.
I had a good time those few days I was away, though returning (and not receiving any feedback from the ones I really would like to get feedback from) makes me feel like shit.
It's like they want me to think that if I do something like this, to have fun on my own, isn't accepted and that they should ignore me or something because of that.
Hah, starting to think that they actually listen to that girl. I managed to have her photomanip removed due to copyright infringement, and I haven't heard a word about it from anyone. Alright, I'm not the nicest of people, but damn, sometimes I want to kick life back. It keeps kicking me and pushing me down, I want to show it what it feels like. And on more than one occasion the someone/thing to receive the kick is a person. Sadly. Or it's myself. Ironic, huh? Mhm. Kicking myself because I feel like crap and want to fight back. So I can be mean and manipulative at times, but that's... those times I can't hold it in. Every day it's like... I feel like hitting someone or shouting at them, but I have to keep it in because I can't make a lot of sound. Wearing shoes that make sounds while I walk drives me crazy, same goes for if I find out that my bag's making any sound. That just... freaks me out and I do everything I can to make it be s i l e n t .
Soeh... well. I don't like getting attention, yet I crave it; I hate manipulative and indecisive people, yet that's what I am; I swore it never would get that far, yet that scar will remind me of my mistake for the rest of my life.
But that girl... I can't stop thinking about her. She's on my mind and I HATE IT. I'm constantly worrying about her, since we've got way too many common friends. And there's that concert in less than three weeks... I have to go because I promised, but she will be there and I'd rather not be going to the concert than meeting her there. Ofc, all our common friends know this. I know that she's avoiding me, and so is her boyfriend. She said she was fine with me being around, but I want to hit her 'cause her immaturity and stupidity screwed with my mind. I trusted her, I explained things to her 'cause she didn't understand... I explained and explained and explained... Am I just terrible at explaining the basics of how I work, or is she just terribly stupid? Live question marks aren't easy to explain stuff to, that I have to say.
If she's fallen into a depression? Great! Then she knows what I feel (and have felt) like! So yeah, depression's hell. I wouldn't mind her going through some sort of mental illness, she could use the experience. Maybe it'd open her eyes. And all that.
About mental illnesses, there is this album that I can't stop listening to.
A friend of mine recommended it to me, and I've fallen in love with it.
So you ought to check out Sixx: A.M.'s "The Heroin Diaries".
As the title says... it's about being addicted to heroin and the fight of getting away from it.
Though my addiction isn't that strong, nor is it that serious, but I can relate. SI is a fucking addiction, and staying clean for more than three days is a huge struggle now.
I promised myself that it wouldn't get this bad again.
Yet here I am...
A failure. Someone who's unable to keep good friends in real life (yeah, my best and most trusted friends live in foreign countries), someone who thinks she's going to get somewhere in this life but is already being crushed beneath the feet of someone younger and better, someone who shouldn't have gone to the emergency room two weeks ago, but stayed at home instead. That way the bleeding wouldn't have stopped and everything would've been fine.
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