2023... 2024!

While fireworks are cracking incessantly outside - and it's not even 12 o'clock! - I've decided to write something on my blog, a blog I've neglected for nearly five years, as I just discovered a few minutes ago when I verified when was my last blog post. The last hour of the year 2023 has just begun, fifteen minutes ago. So what was the reason that I haven't written anything on my blog all this time? Maybe because I didn't have enough inspiration to write anything on it? Or was it just that the main reason for writing - to cope with difficult situations in my life - had somehow disappeared? I have to admit that, for a large period in my life, things have gone incredibly well and that, since a couple of months, unfortunately, luck seems to have turned its back on me. So that could well be one of the main reasons for picking up where I had left. As I always felt better after posting something on my blog, that could be what I am looking for at the moment.

Right now, I'm alone, at home in Leiden, celebrating New Year's Eve, welcoming the year 2024 in about half an hour. Alone, yes, and people might think that is really sad. It actually is, however I've been trying to disguise it for all the people in my environment. It's not that nobody invited me, no. I was welcome to celebrate New Year's Eve with many different friends, but I declined each and every invitation. It's just that initially I didn't feel like celebrating anything. A lot has happened recently, and I preferred to be at home this evening. Initially I didn't even want to celebrate anything, but recently I've had some small successes in my life, which have encouraged me to do something special at least this evening. And in fact, this is an ideal opportunity to say once and for all goodbye to 2023, which was in many respects a horrible year and to welcome a hopefully better 2024. 

While me and my boyfriend (meanwhile: ex-boyfriend) were convinced that 2023 would be the best year ever for us, it became a disastrous year in many respects. Not only did our relationship become more and more complicated because I had decided I couldn't have any children due to my problems concerning the medication I need to take, it became so bad that I finally decided to break up with him in August. He was extremely upset, so our breakup didn't go smoothly. It was a difficult decision to break up with him after nearly two and a half years, but in hindsight, it was the best decision I've made this year. See, our relationship wasn't particularly healthy. I only discovered this later on in our relationship, when I shared certain things, certain situations with friends. They told me that what happened in our relationship wasn't normal at all. In fact, you could say that he was quite manipulative, controlling, maybe even narcissistic in some respects.  

And that was not the only situation that caused me a lot of heartache. I love my parents more and more each day, so you can imagine that, when something bad happens to one of them, I'm extremely sad and worried sick. So it happened that after a long way of medical investigations and with many vague symptoms, my mother was diagnosed with a large brain tumor. After a successful surgery, when not one but three tumors were discovered, from which one could not be removed, she is still recovering, and the recovery is very slow, which causes her a lot of frustration and worries about her future. What's more, my father got also bad news after a routine intestine investigation. It could be cancer, both in the intestines and in the prostate. Later, these worries would prove to be unnecessary when a thorough investigation proved that it was - luckily - not cancer. 

And then something happened that I really didn't see coming. Due to all the stress in my personal life - the break-up with my (ex-)boyfriend, my mother's brain tumor, my father's possible cancer diagnosis - I had a breakdown at work, not once, but twice, although the second time was not as serious as the first time, the second time was a mere panic attack triggered by the fire alarm. My teamleader and manager apparently were frightened after what had happened. They weren't prepared for situations like these. They were apparently afraid this would happen over and over again. Still, their reaction was over-protective and completely over the top. I wasn't welcome at work anymore. I won't tell the whole story, but they have played a foul game. To summarize: I'm still at home after 14 weeks of "sick leave", not welcome at work anymore, but luckily after the Christmas break I will start working again, however, at a different department. I really have no clue as to what their problem is. It feels as if I am a kind of criminal, as if I have attacked somebody aggressively, or as if I have offended someone purposefully. Those weeks at home made me feel as if on house arrest, punished for something serious. My colleagues don't understand what is happening either. I also had to respect a whole lot of rules and guidelines. But what was the worst was the fact that, due to what had happened, they - read: the management - have decided not to extend my contract. That was tough! Especially because only a short while before everything went wrong, they had praised me for the work I do, they had told me how happy they were to have me working for them and that I did a fantastic job. And now... this?! 

So, you see that 2023 was quite a sh*tty year. It could have been better. That's the least I can say. Especially because I also had to say goodbye to one of my best friends. She died on May, 9th. She was such a lovely friend, she was more, she was the first person I met when I came living here in the Netherlands and visited Leiden University. She'd worked for the University as a secretary for the Astronomy department, but unfortunately she had cancer. She was only 72 years old. I miss her dearly. She was always there for me, especially in those moments in which I was very, very ill, when I was admitted to psychiatric hospitals, even the worst one in The Hague. She was loyal, the only one who continued visiting me on a regular basis, even more loyal than my own family. Incredible. And then she died. It was tough to swallow. 

While I'm writing this, the year 2024 has come. Welcome 2024! I hope you'll bring more happiness and better health than 2023, not only for myself, but also for my loved ones! 

Happy New Year!

Not for free

This week I read on Facebook the sad news that another girl who was once admitted at the CIB (centre for intensive treatment) in The Hague committed suicide. I almost lost count of how many people I've known from the CIB have passed away by committing suicide. It's so sad, so sad for those who have known her well. I only met her once or twice and she seemed like a nice girl, caring for the people around her, struggling with her past and suffering from whatever it was that kept her in the world of psychiatry.

RIP Marieke

It was then that I realized once again that I'm lucky, lucky to be alive, lucky to have the life that I have. But no, it is not as easy as it seems, although some, if not most, people will think I get everything for free. But they probably don't know where I come from. I know where I come from, though. I'm still a psychiatric patient, with a severe psychiatric disorder, as the ladies and gentlemen psychiatrists state. I still have this double diagnosis: the main diagnosis is Borderline Personality Disorder, although a year ago my psychologist claimed that I lost the rough edges of this diagnosis. He also claimed that I nearly lost all the characteristics of the second diagnosis, which is Psychotic Disorder (not otherwise defined). I mainly agree with him, but I think I lost the characteristics thanks to the meds I currently take. I've been on Clozapine for the past four years, and although this is actually medication for people with severe schizophrenia, it seems to keep the teasing voices in my head away. I'm very thankful for the fact that the psychiatrist I had at the CIB had the guts to try out the Clozapine. He literally said that if the Clozapine didn't work, that we would be out of options. But fortunately, it dit what it was meant to do, and at this moment, I've been free of psychoses for over four years, which is unprecedented. 

At the CIB I saw a lot of young girls throwing away their future by being rebellious and having a lot of self-pity. That's when I finally woke up and decided something had to change. I started working hard, especially in therapy, I stopped playing games with the meds and started taking them as I was supposed to do. After a year at the CIB I could finally go home, unlike most of the other girls, who were transferred to other clinics. I started with a clean sheet, with the help of nurses of the FACT-team here in Leiden. After a couple of months, I was even lucky to swap my student flat for a newly-built flat. That was another big change in my life, and I still thank God for the beautiful opportunity He gave me. The flat is awesome, it's so beautiful and I enjoy living here every day. But that was the easy part. The most difficult part was still to come.

For many years my days were full of activities. I finished university in 2013, and as well during my studies as after all those years at university I'd been in therapy, so my days had always been full of activities. But when I came back from the CIB in 2015, there was little left of all that. At the beginning, I still went to the CIB a couple of days for some therapies at the day care centre, but my psychologist was against this. He said I had to learn to take care of myself, and that I had to find activities outside of that small world I'd been in for too long. Of course he was right, but at the beginning, I felt rejected and hopeless. How could he expect so much of me? I couldn't possibly do everything on my own? I needed the help of therapists, right? Well... no, not exactly. So, very slowly, I started building up my life. I found activities which got the label "healthy" from my therapist: I went to the Leiden observatory, I went to karate, and slowly but gradually I picked up teaching private lessons at home. 

So that's how it all began. I observed that I really enjoyed teaching. And I think I can honestly say that it's something I'm actually pretty good at. I have a lot of patience and discipline, two indispensable characteristics for being a good teacher. I especially enjoy creating my own exercises, my own hand-outs, my own practice tests. It gives me a good feeling, as if finally, I'm contributing to society in one way or another. However, I know that many people I know despise teachers and look down on them. They really don't have a clue of how much work there is involved in teaching. It's not those couple of hours of teaching, it's all those hours dedicated to the preparation of a lesson that count. And people just don't see that. They have no respect for teachers, they even accuse them of being profiteers, because they have so many holidays. Well, people really have no idea how much time teachers spend working outside their classroom, at home, late at night, behind their laptop, working out some exercises or a practice test. Because yes, one and a half years ago, I also started teaching small groups at the Women and Child Centre here in Leiden. I can honestly say that I enjoy teaching groups even more than I do teaching individual students. I teach Spanish to small groups of women as a volunteer and it gives me a good feeling when I notice that my students seem to learn something, especially because I teach the beginners group, so after ten weeks, they are able to say something in Spanish.

It's been three and a half years that I'm home from the CIB, and no, it's not easy to organize my days. It's still a struggle to get up in the morning for example. As my meds have quite a lot of side effects, it's difficult to get up early. Also, they can give me stomach aches from time to time. And I still sometimes struggle to accept the fact that I have to take 17 pills a day. I know it's for the greater good, but still... When it's that time of the day again to take a couple of pills and people get curious, it's not easy to explain that or especially why I have to take them. I know I shouldn't bother: someone with diabetes also needs his/her insuline shots, but still, the taboo is still quite big when it comes to psychiatric meds. But, I can guarantee, those meds can be life saving. Never before have I had meds that could keep the voices outside. I truly hope my life can continue the way it goes now. I have to work hard every day. It starts with getting up in the morning, swallowing those five pills, and starting to do something instead of getting back to bed when I have no appointments. Things are going well, but it involves a lot of effort, day after day. I'm actually going to start a procedure to find a paid job with the help of a job coach of the mental institution. It's called an IPS-trajectory (Individual Placement and Support) and it's meant to help people with psychiatric disorders to find a suitable job. I do love what I'm doing now, but it's not enough to pay the bills and I also think I'm ready for the next episode. 

What I actually wanted to say: yes, I'm doing fine, yes, things are looking good, but I don't get everything for free. I work hard, and I think the only way I got all my successes is the hard way, i.e. by fighting hard against all the things and people who are against me. Because yes, I've lost lots of friends the past years, not only when I was admitted at the CIB, but also after that difficult period. People couldn't deal with the fact that suddenly, I didn't have that much time anymore to hang out all the time. I do know now who my real friends are: those who understand that I need time to work and also time for myself after I've been working hard. Because life still isn't easy, nor will it ever be. But I choose to live, and it's a pity that so many of my fellow CIB mates can't see that there's another way out, way beyond suffering, pain and eventually death. I wish I could convince them, but it's their decision. I pity them and I wish I can convince those who are in doubt between life and death: a good life is possible, just don't give up and fight! If I can do it, so can you. Just don't give up yet. There's always another way!

Love like you've never loved before

Every morning I check my Facebook while having breakfast. That's usually a relaxing moment, checking what my friends have been doing while I was still fast asleep (I get up quite late, compared with the average human being. Has to do with my medication). But Monday morning the bread lost its taste completely when I saw that one of my Facebook friends posted that Laura had died. Suicide. Another one... Laura is one of my friends of the CIB. Those of you who are familiar with my posts know that the CIB is the "Centrum Intensieve Behandeling", the centre for intensive treatment, in The Hague where I resided for almost a year and got out really well, despite some really nasty experiences. I fought my way out of it, you could say. Laura wasn't so lucky. When her time at the CIB was over - you cannot stay there forever, after a year more or less, they send you back to the clinic you came from - they send her back. And since then she has been in different clinics, in and out. She was currently staying in Rotterdam. However, a couple of months ago, it looked like the odds were finally in her favour. They had a spot for her in a care farm. She was really excited about it, and she would be going there really soon. So what happened that made her change her mind so suddenly?

R.I.P. Laura

Last week, there were some alarming posts on her Facebook. She posted that she was tired of fighting. That she could no longer go on. People encouraged her to hang on. Her last post was last Saturday, at 9.23 in the morning. In hindsight, action should have been taken. It was a very alarming post. It was a message from somebody who had jumped in front of a train and who said sorry to the passengers on the train and those waiting on the platforms in the stations. It was her last post. That afternoon, she committed suicide. 

Laura is the sixth friend of the CIB who commits suicide. However, I don't get used to it. It never gets easy in one way or the other. It may sound a little strange, but it confronts me with my own thoughts. I count myself lucky that I got out of the biggest misery. Been there, done that, you could say. Still, some suicidal thoughts remain. I'm a lot happier than three, four years ago. But some unhappiness and pain is still there. Still, I don't think it's a good idea to dedicate much time to it. Nor is it a good idea to go into details.

What IS important is the fact that we have to love people and ourselves. Love like you've never loved before. Because - before you know it - it can be over. I do know one thing: since I got out of the CIB and out of the biggest misery I'd ever been in, I'm a different person. I think I can honestly say that I'm a friendly person. Sometimes I'm just walking on the street and I smile to everyone. What happens is that some people smile back, while others look puzzled. "Why is she smiling to me?", I hear them think. "Does she know me from somewhere?" Nope, it's just me, being friendly. Because, before you know it, this life will be over, and while you're still here on planet Earth, it doesn't hurt to smile. Also, I try to be friendly to people I used to have a grudge against. Why is that? Well, it feels so much better to see the frustration on their faces. They know I used to feel a grudge against them and they don't know if I'm just acting or if my sympathetic attitude is for real. And guess what, it actually helps to soften the grudge. The best example is the psychiatrist who treated me really bad and who sent me to the CIB. I was really mad at that man. But somehow, he actually did me a big favour, because I came out so much better. I don't think he had expected that, because honestly, NOBODY had expected that. You know, when there's hatred in your heart, you can't live life to the fullest. I know what I'm talking about. Of course, there are still some people who give me really bad feelings, but I think that's just inherent to us, human beings. 

Why is there so much hatred in this world? In my own family there are some terrible quarrels, and I feel so helpless, because I'm so different. I don't want any quarrels, nor do I want to encourage hatred. I really think that we should love each other more. Life can be so short! Look at Laura, she didn't get older than 22. If someone commits suicide, they must feel like they're all alone, like no one loves them anymore. That's why we should love, love like we've never loved before. It can be over so fast...