History of a hurting soul

Some things in life are difficult - if not, impossible - to explain to other people. In what follows, you, dear reader, will be witness of one of those things. As I wrote in an earlier post, May is the Borderline Personality Disorder Awareness month, and as June is approaching really fast, I wanted to dedicate one more post to a topic that has something to do with borderline, a topic that is still a very, very big taboo, even in so-called "free" countries, which have freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom of sexual inclination, freedom of you-name-it. 

I appreciate the reactions on my earlier post because for years it has been very difficult for me to talk about this subject, even in general. In what follows, I'll talk about the biggest taboo considering borderline, namely the so-called "self-punishment" which can eventually end in suicide. There isn't necessarily a link between the fact that some people hurt themselves and suicide, but for people with borderline, these two are sometimes intertwined. However, I belong to the group of people who cut (simple past, not present!) themselves in order to stay alive and to cope with the difficulties of this life...

Here in the Netherlands the weather has been extremely nice since a week or two - that is, until today. That means that there are people burnt by the sun practically everywhere after a day out on the beach or in a park. That also means that people are walking around with few clothing. And there already raises a big problem for me. I can't walk around like that, not because I wouldn't like to - I mean, with more than 25 degrees Centigrade everyone would like to walk around in shorts and a sleeveless shirt - but because I feel embarrassed. See, the problem is that I have these scars... on my legs, but especially on my arms. And I can tell you from my own experience that these scars can scare the hell out of people. I've seen looks of horror, fear and incomprehension or even a cocktail of these three. That's why I prefer to walk around dressed in long trousers and a shirt or sweater with long sleeves. But when it's hot - like it's been during the past two weeks - I allow myself to walk around in short sleeves and three-quarter trousers. However, there are exceptions, the most important one being walking around at the university. You will never see me in short sleeves in class, I feel ashamed and I'm extremely fearful of the reactions of my fellow students and teachers. 

I started cutting myself 12 years ago, when I was 17, but I've already been "clean" for over 3 years. That's a great achievement, but it's not easy. Sometimes I have this temptation... "Just once more, just for this one difficult moment..." However, I don't do it, because I know from personal experience that it's so difficult to go back from cutting to no more cutting at all. But there is more. My two nieces - 4 and 7 years old - ask me questions about the scars: "Auntie, where did you get these? What are they?" What should I tell these two beautiful princesses who apparently seem to love me? I can't tell them the truth, not yet, they're too young. So I tell them I got involved in a serious accident when I was younger...

It all started quite innocently: I only drew lines on my arms with a pencil, but after a little while I changed over to scissors. Later on, I used knives and pieces of broken glass. I only realised that it was serious when I admitted it to a teacher at my secondary school and he was shocked and said that it was an anomaly. That was exactly the word he used: "anomaly". Only later did I find out that it has in fact a name: automutilation or self injury. But until then, I had never seen it on TV or from somebody else. It really was my personal strategy of survival, because the pain I felt deep inside was so powerful that I couldn't cope with it in a normal way. 


I've made some pictures of my own mutilated arms, but I'm not going to put those on my blog. Still, I want you to watch the next video carefully, especially when the video is at 2.39. (WARNING: not for sensitive persons!) I also carved a word in my left arm once (GUILT), and if you are aware of that, you can make out some of the letters that are still visible as scars.

You may think now that talking about this subject is easy for me, because I think I've been quite open until now. That is far from the truth, however. It's not easy at all. I've been writing and rewriting this post for hours, and I'm still not happy with the result. I've changed the title a dozen times. It's important for me that I explain this well, because every day is a new confrontation with my mutilated body. Every day I have to accept that I did irreversible things to myself. I've thougt about having an operation a few times, but I know that there is a slight possibility that I will start over when I have "new", unaffected arms and legs. Doesn't make sense? Well, think of this: every scar tells a story, every scar is the result of something that happened in the past. You can't completely erase your past, because your past is a part of you. 

I'm thankful to God that He has helped me to stop this habit. I'm also thankful that He has brought me in contact with the people from the church. Last Monday was the first day I went short-sleeved, and NOBODY, not a single person, looked at me with eyes full of horror or fear, not a single person made a rude remark or whatsoever. They all seemed to accept me the way I am, and honestly, that felt awesome. Never before has a group of persons reacted so wisely when they were confronted with my scars.


Don't judge people by their appearance. Just don't judge people in general. You never know how beautiful they can be on the inside... 

The orange ribbon stands for self-injury awareness. Be aware that about 5% of the Dutch population between 17 and 25 years old has hurt him- or herself at least once. I couldn't find exact numbers, it's still an estimated amount of people, but I do know that it is much more common for women to injure themselves than for men. Men prefer drugs or alcohol abuse while women prefer self injury. Help us by not judging us. We are not insane, we do - or in my case, did - this in order to survive. 


PS: I'm writing my Master's thesis at the moment, so I have to focus on what I'll do after I've finished my studies. I'd like to be a Spanish teacher, preferably at a bilingual or international school. However, I don't see myself as a full-time teacher. I'd like to help people who are going through the same as I have been through and sometimes still go through. I'd like to work part-time as a 'hands-on' expert. I'd like to visit schools to bring awareness among youngsters. It's important that the taboo disappears and that people learn healthier ways of dealing with painful and strong emotions. I hope I can be part of a team that helps to do away with the taboo on self injury. It's so important to be understood properly, I know what I'm talking about. It took me years, and I know that I'm not the only one. Self injury is probably a bigger problem than you might think. Be aware that we are very good at hiding our injuries and our real emotions. Support us. Don't judge us.

A dog's life...

Yesterday, I read the following post by Paulo Coelho on my Facebook: 

"Life is too short, or too long, for me to allow myself the luxury of living it badly."

And that is the truth, so we'd better take Mr. Coelho's advice seriously. One thing that strikes me is that animals live their life fully, and - provided they have a good life - they seem to enjoy each and every moment of their life. That counts for Chico as well as for Xera, my sister's and brother-in-law's dog. But unfortunately, these are her last days...Next week, they'll probably put her down, and that is really sad...

Xera is a labrador retriever with a pedigree, and she's almost 14 years old. But unfortunately, she'll never reach that age. It will stop at 13 and a little bit more. The first time I met her, she was just a few weeks old, and I remember that moment vividly. She staggered on her tiny legs and came towards me to sit in my lap. That was really special, you could call it quality time, because I'll never forget that moment. 

Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures from Xera when she was just a puppy, because I bought my first camera when she was about 3 years old. Wasn't she lovely?

Xera is not just another cute labrador. When she was almost two years old, she went to Turkey, which had suffered a serious earthquake that took thousands of lives - more than 17,000 to be precise, with an even larger amount of seriously injured people. That must have been in August 1999. Xera was trained as a rescue dog and found 4 or 5 persons who were still alive under the debris. She also found lots of dead people. Anyway, it was an outstanding performance, especially because she was still so young. My brother-in-law appeared on the news and in the Belgian newspapers with his Xera, and I was so proud of both of them. 

As you probably know, I've always loved animals, dogs in particular, but my parents didn't allow me to have one. So when my brother-in-law finally saw his dream come true when he got Xera, mine also partly came true. I've loved Xera from the moment we met. When she looks at you with those gorgeous labrador eyes, you immediately fall in love with her. But her days are numbered, and the next few days will be extremely difficult, not in the least for my two nieces who've known their Xera all their lives and who will love her forever. When they heard that their favourite pet would have to be put down, they broke out in tears, both of them. Especially the oldest one, Indra, is very attached to her Xera. Just a few months ago she was so proud to take Xera with her to class to tell about what Xera had achieved in Turkey so many years ago. But since then, Xera's health has seriously deteriorated. 

Indra and her two best friends, Indra and Kyana

Two weeks ago, I was in Belgium with my family, and I knew I'd probably spend my last moments with Xera, so I took my time to say goodbye to such a true and loyal friend. Although she wasn't mine, her presence has been so familiar for the last 13 years. So it was difficult to say goodbye, but now, I'll have to let her go...

  
This is one of the pictures I took two weeks ago. As I'm writing this, tiny little tears are running down my face. I never thought this would affect me so badly, but I'm really going to miss her. However, I see that this animal is suffering. Not only is she completely deaf and partly blind, she also has difficulties with walking. So rational Debbie is telling herself that Xera's better off when she's freed from the miserable life and the pain she has right now. But my heart says something completely different because I'd like to share one more moment with her, just one more. I want to make her feel my love for her. But that moment will never come. It's too late for that now... I only hope God also has a heaven for dogs, because that is where Xera belongs, that's for sure. 

RIP Xera, 29/5/2012

PS: I was about to finish this post when something sprung to mind. It's so natural for a vet and for people in general to put an animal down, and people have little or no problems with the fact that this opportunity is available for animals. I have to agree with them. I think that, however it's a tough decision, you should act in such a way that the animal doesn't suffer, when the time has come. But now I would like to add a critical note. Why make so many people such a fuss about euthanasia? Why is it in the case of human beings an ethical issue? Why does the taboo about euthanasia exist, even still today? I think people should have the right to decide about their own lives and consequently also about their own deaths. But maybe I should write about this topic in another post, because if I'm not mistaken, every religion has problems to deal with the idea of euthanasia. And I think that's unfair.

So maybe you're one of those who are strongly opposed to euthanasia. Or you think there actually really is a difference between human beings and animals when it comes to life and death. Or... Try to convince me that I'm wrong, but remember two rules: rule 1: I'm always right. Rule 2: When I'm not right, then you'll have to apply rule one ;) No, just joking, I'll be happy to read your comments, as always.

Just that tiny little bit more...

Not so long ago, I posted a poll on my blog to ask how you would describe yourself when it comes to religion. I was quite curious to find out if religion is still something worth mentioning nowadays. To be honest, I've been struggling with religion since I was old enough to think for myself. I was born in a region in Belgium where religion is important, but not officially. I mean, I was baptised in a catholic church, I made my first Communion and the holy Confirmation, I always went to catholic schools, where we had to go to church a few times a year. But apart from those moments, I hardly set foot in a church. My parents never prayed in front of my sister and me, nor did we read the Bible at home. So I wasn't really acquainted with religion. All I knew about religion was the stuff we learnt at school. However, there was a period in which I went to church every Sunday with my cousin. We must have been 10 or 12 at that time, and there were special events for children during the sermon which meant quite good fun. But this didn't last for long. It was a mere whim, I suppose.

 

My secondary school still had a few nuns who taught some courses, but they were especially there to keep order and to teach us how to be decent girls (at that time, only girls were admitted to that school :O). At the age of 13, I had become a true atheist, however. I've thrown away my diaries from that period - what a waste! - so I can't really recall how it looked like in real life, but I couldn't believe that there was a God while there was also so much misery, pain and disaster in the world. If there really was a God, how could He allow all this to happen? 

I can't say that I renounced to Catholicism altogether, though. There was still that tiny, little voice that kept asking me: "What if there really IS a God, and you die and he doesn't accept you in heaven because you renounced to Him?" However, as I didn't get real religious input from home, I wasn't really fond of God and His son Jesus. And it even got worse as I got older. At the age of 15, I was quite sure there wasn't any God out there. I had lost too many family members and had seen and experienced too much pain by that time. 

Then, when I was 16, I started spending my time with books about all types of science: astronomy in particular, but also philosophy, geology, archaeology... you name it. I realised that the world was more complex than I'd initially thought, so I tried to learn as much as possible about the world, its origin, its history and its people. I firmly believed in the Big Bang theory and in evolution, so why bother about religion? God was just another invention of us, inhabitants of planet Earth, and the creation described in the Bible was just another made-up story. People are good at inventing stories and stuff like that. At the same time, I was fascinated by the wonders of nature. I admired the universe with its millions of stars and billions of galaxies, I admired nature with its many different species, animals as well as plants. And because of that admiration, I was struck with awe, and I could no longer believe that all this was just there without any reason, just by coincidence. And because everything is so perfect - think of the availability of water and oxygen on our planet that allow us to live, for example - I was convinced that there was more. And that's when I decided that there should be forces in nature that direct all of this, that there should be Gods of nature. Yes, that's when I became a polytheist.

 

I realised that it wouldn't be easy, because, as far as I know, there is no such thing as a "bible" for polytheists, nor is there much written about it. Furthermore, polytheism is mostly associated with religions from the past, descending from the period of the Egyptians, Greeks and Romans. But I was sure: there were these wonderful Gods of Nature. And due to the absence of a "handbook", I started to write my own prayers and to do my own rituals. I was overwhelmed by the power of the Gods of nature, although I could also be afraid of them. Because, as you might know, I'm scared when there is a thunderstorm, I've always been, since I was a child. And at the moment of a thunderstorm, an earthquake or a vulcanic eruption, I always thought that the Gods were angry with the people on Earth. This type of religion wasn't just a whim, although at a certain point, I must 've get bored with it, because I can remember that I fluctuated between atheism and polytheism and ended up being an atheist again for a couple of years.


Only years later, more or less 4 years ago now, I saw the light, almost literally. I was converted to Christianity again by a psychiatric nurse in the clinic where I was admitted at that moment. It's a long story, but it practically boils down to what was already written in the Bible: Even before you ask God for a sign - something that can prove that He really exists - he will already have given it to you. And that is exactly what happened to me. When I read that verse in the Bible - it was either in Matthew or Mark, but I can't recall where exactly - I was struck by surprise and awe. I could no longer pretend as if God didn't exist.

So, it's been four years now, and although I am not a very active Christian - Protestant, for that matter, not Catholic anymore - I truly believe in God and I also believe that His only son, Jesus, died for us, so that we could live. He has given me that tiny, little bit more that I had been looking for for all those years. And I have given Him my heart in return. I know it's not enough, but it's a start. He has changed my life completely, and I'm thankful for that.

Somehow, people who believe in God and Jesus are being considered a little bit "old-fashioned", "naive", "boring" and "gullible" or maybe even "freaky". Why is that? I think the critics should go to a few churches on Sunday - an activity I've taken up just two weeks ago and that felt really good - and just try them out, and they should meet some (moderate) Christians and talk to them. I mean, I will never ever try to convice somebody that he/she should be converted, but I would try to answer their questions if they had any and I would tell them about my experiences. The most striking fact is that you don't have to renounce to science if you want to believe in God. You can perfectly combine your scientific understandings with religion, and that's exactly what I do. I'm convinced that God created the universe, so the Big Bang was His idea. I believe that He created plants, animals, and us, people. He made sure that his plan to create humans would succeed in the end by using evolution. He loves us so much that He has given us our brain, which helps us to invent new tecnology day after day, so that we can save other people's lives or make life on Earth easier. He has made everything perfect. Look for example at pictures from the Hubble Space Telescope. It's all so beautiful... However, there are some disadvantages that he probably didn't foresee. People invent things that are not so good for other people or nature. There are wars, there is hunger, there is poverty, there are murders,... But this all happens because we, as human beings, also have a free will. 


Still, it's not easy to be a convinced Christian. I also have my weak moments, and then I think of the fact that people so easily invent things. Have you ever seen a real unicorn or a real dragon? Neither have I, so why wouldn't it be possible to invent a God? Also, the Bible is old, but books are written all the time, with invented stories that could be true. Think of Harry Potter, think of other books and movies. And what about injustice, as in children who die from hunger or cancer, people murdering others and getting away with it, and so on? So it's not easy to be a Christian, but I'm proud to be a Christian. I know that God is there for all of us. Also for you, dear reader...




 

Orgullo de una políglota

Éste es uno de estos días en los que no quiero nada. Quiero que la gente me deje sola, que no me interrumpan. Aunque no estoy haciendo nada de interés, para decirles la verdad. Ya fui al gimnasio esta tarde, pero lamentablemente no siempre tiene el resultado de sentirse una persona completamente diferente. Así que decidí dedicarme a mi blog, que realmente está ganando mi interés, cada día un poco más. Me gusta porque puedo expresarme como quiero, y tengo la libertad de escribir todo lo que quiero. Aunque, hay que ser sincera, parece que me están siguiendo desde Rusia y los Estados Unidos, y alguien me dijo que puede ser que sean robots que estén explorando mi blog, porque no dejan comentarios ni nada parecido. Bueno, eso no me da ánimo, pero sólo escribo lo que yo pienso. Yo soy la única responsable para todo lo que aparezca en este blog. Que me disculpen si escribo algo ofensivo...

Hoy también es un día en el que me doy cuenta del hecho de que forme parte de un conjunto más grande y muy especial, siendo el mundo, el planeta Tierra. También me doy cuenta del hecho de que el ser humano esté poco a poco destruyendo nuestro hogar tan lindo. Y no sólo estamos destruyendo la naturaleza con su abundancia de animales y plantas, sino también a nosotros mismos y - no podemos descartarlo - a la cosa que nos hace casi únicos en el planeta: la lengua. Acabo de hacer una pequeña investigación, y parece que en el mundo hay más o menos 6.800 lenguas conocidas, y quiero poner énfasis en la palabra conocidas, puesto que en áreas como Nueva Guinea y el Amazonas, todavía hay que explorar mucho terreno desconocido. Sin embargo, la cantidad de lenguas también está disminuyendo. En el mapa aquí abajo se ven varios grupos o familias de idiomas. 

Observa como el mundo se ve lleno de colores... Pero ten en cuenta que en realidad hay que haber muchos más colores, y muchos más matices, especialmente en las dos áreas mencionadas antes. No todas las lenguas australianas y amazónicas pertenecen a la misma familia. Todavía hay mucho que descubrir! Pero formamos una unidad, aunque hablamos diferentes lenguas, porque la lengua es lo que nos une. Pon dos personas que no se conocen en una isla desierta, y estoy segura de que dentro de muy poco tiempo van a tratar de entender el uno al otro, incluso cuando hablan diferentes idiomas.

Sabes, me encantan las lenguas :) Si tuviera más tiempo, aprendería varios idiomas más - y sobre todo algunos más exoticos, como el quechua - pero hasta ahora hablo 5 idiomas a un nivel razonable: holandés - que es mi lengua materna - español, inglés, francés y el portugués brasileño. En realidad, el holandés no es mi lengua materna, porque crecí en una región en la que se habla un dialecto del holandés, siendo el flamenco occidental. Y la verdad es que esta lengua difiere en varios aspectos del holandés estándar. Bueno, bueno, ya les escucho, quieren una prueba ;) Aquí sigue un pequeño vídeo en el que hablo mi dialecto. Lo que estoy diciendo no tiene mucho sentido, pero sólo quería desmostrarles cómo suena mi dialecto. Para los que no hablan holandés, ni siquiera piensen en mirar el vídeo :D

Entendieron algo? O les pareció increíblemente incomprensible? Bueno, no importa tanto, pero la verdad es que estoy orgullosa de hablar mi dialecto y en general, estoy orgullosa de poder hablar 5 idiomas - o seis cuando el flamenco occidental también es considerado un idioma aparte. Sin embargo, en Bélgica, los dialectos son muchas veces considerados inferiores en comparación con la lengua estándar. Otro problema en Flandes es que en cada provincia tienen otro dialecto, y hay rivalidad entre los hablantes - muchas veces jóvenes - de estos dialectos. Es como si cada provincia se sintiera superior a las demás. No tenemos este problema en Holanda, o por lo menos es menos grave. Pero de esta manera perderemos nuestros dialectos, porque hablar un dialecto es inmediatamente asociado con poca inteligencia y poca educación. De esta manera, la gente que habla el dialecto a veces se siente avergonzada y va a evitar el dialecto. 

Lo mismo ocurrió hace siglos con la colonización de varias partes del mundo. Me voy a limitar a Latinoamérica, ya sabes, mi tema preferido :) Antes de la colonización había sólo indígenas, pero los españoles y portugueses los mataron o los convirtieron en esclavos. Los habitantes originales tuvieron que aprender a hablar español o portugués, y poco a poco, los niños ya no aprendieron la lengua indígena de sus padres sino que aprendieron la lengua de los colonizadores, solamente por el prestigio. En el mapa abajo puedes ver lo que queda de áreas en las que se hablan idiomas indígenas. Son pocos, y hay que defenderlos!

  

Cuando era todavía joven y alumna de una escuela secundaria en Bélgica, me gustaron mucho los idiomas, pero nunca dediqué mucho tiempo a ellos, porque sabía que no tenía que estudiar mucho y sin embargo obtuve buenas notas. Ahora, me dedico mucho al estudio de un idioma, porque ahora estoy en la fase de perfección de mi español y mi inglés. Me encanta practicar idiomas, por eso escribo en inglés y español en este blog. Mi francés y portugués brasileño todavía se encuentran en una fase intermedia. Allá, todavía hay mucho que mejorar! Estoy contenta por haber nacido en un país en el que realmente aprenden idiomas. No me gusta la mentalidad de los franceses por ejemplo que se sienten superiores con su francés y que por eso no quieren aprender otros idiomas. Creo que aprender varios idiomas es imprescindible en la sociedad en la que vivimos hoy en día. Y además, aprendiendo otros idiomas, podemos unirnos con gente de otras culturas. Por eso, no sólo es necesario aprender otros idiomas, sino que también tenemos que hacer todo lo posible para preservar los idiomas que están bajo la amenaza de extinción...

Quality time

Do you recognise the feeling that you have when you're doing or experiencing something, and you wish that moment would last forever? Somehow, these moments are rather scarce in my life, but I try to cherish and enjoy each and every one of them. What's more, I've discovered that it's impossible to experience these moments when I'm alone. There always has to be someone around, and that one can be a person, but it can also be an animal, like my sweet, little bird. Come to think about it, it can also be a special thing, like my 5.9 inch telescope. I can truly say that my telescope is a good and loyal friend to me, giving me joy every once in a while, like when I saw the planet Saturn for the very first time. It looked more or less like this:

But let's return to the "living things". Last weekend, I went to Belgium to see my family. It was quite a long time ago, and sometimes these moments I share with my family are the ideal moments to have some quality time. I saw my parents and grandparents, my sister and... my two precious nieces. They're the best that could ever have happened to me. I had some quality time with them on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. So that should keep me going for a while :) I actually think they love me. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is priceless, believe me. They mean the world to me. It's hard to imagine life without them, although I only see them once a month.

Indra, 7 years old

Kyana, 4 years old

If I had to make a list of the top 5 special moments of my life, I'd certainly start with the birth of these two sweethearts. When it comes to quality time, their visit to Leiden a couple of weeks ago would certainly appear in the top 5. I had the day of my life, and I am sure they did so too. We spent hours and hours in toy shops, but I didn't mind. It was indescribable to see them enjoying themselves and to have them walking hand in hand with me, and to receive so many hugs and kisses. Of course, I spoiled them a little bit with too many presents, but I'm not for nothing their aunt, right? In fact, almost all the moments I've spent with my nieces can be classified as quality time. Other people I've spent quality time with are my parents and grandparents, but especially some of the people whose job it is to support me when it comes to my psychiatric problems (psychiatrists and therapists) and some of my teachers - as well from my secondary school in Belgium as from Leiden university - because I could have useful and intelligent conversations with them, conversations that made me think about life, love and the world. It went much further than the stuff they were supposed to teach me, and I think that's good, because I believe that teachers not only have to teach compulsory things to their students, but that they also have to function as an example for all those young people that still have to learn a lot about life and stuff like that.

To enjoy or to find quality time doesn't necessarily involve special requirements. For example, enjoying a drink or ice-cream and having a chat with my former psychiatrist is truly quality time and is not that big or difficult to achieve. She probably cares about me, otherwise she wouldn't want to meet me every now and then, even though we don't have a professional relationship anymore. Another example are the precious moments I share a few times a week with Chico. Let me share this video with you, made last week. I'm trying to teach Chico his own address, and it turns out that he really enjoys listening to it. Next step is repeating after me, but that'll cost time :D

Quality time is not just being together with somebody (person or animal), there also has to be something extra, something I cannot describe but which renders the atmospere very special. Every time this happens, I realise that I'm having quality time. Needless to say, I don't forget to enjoy those moments. However, as I already wrote, real quality time is scarce in my life, and I think it's getting scarce overall. Look at this cartoon:

It's a fact that people have become more solitary, even when they're living in the same house. People live next to each other, but do not really spend time together anymore, so there will probably be less persons who can say that they have quality time every once in a while, be it with their family or with their friends or with their pet. I have to plead guilty though, because I've done it a few times myself already. For example, I once spoke via Skype with one of my housemates who was actually in her room a few metres away. Furthermore, I'm convinced that you can't really have quality time on your own. Everyone needs other people, how difficult this may be to accept, especially for people like me who'd like to be completely independent. Still, we can't live without other persons, that much I've learnt already. 

Now, I'd like to give you, dear reader, something to think about: have you ever shared a moment of quality time with me? I'm anxious to know, so please let me know! In the meantime, I hope you can cherish those beautiful quality time moments in your life. I'll try to do the same...  

Because we're a team, that's why

As some of you may know, I don't have an easy life, nor is it obvious that I'm still alive at only 29. Especially the last 12 years have been below par. I've been struggling, because I think I deserve a normal life too. However, it hasn't been easy. I won't torture you, my dear reader, with a description of those 12 abominable years. It wouldn't be good for you, and I think I would only harm myself even more if I recalled all those bad memories. Still, I want to tell you something about Borderline Personality Disorder, because May is BPD awareness month.

Almost 10 years ago, I decided to move to the Netherlands. That wasn't easy at first, because I had severe psychiatric problems. However, I couldn't stay in a country in which I had been maltreated in so many ways... The memories were just too painful. The Netherlands offered me a brand-new start, or at least, that's what I assumed. However, I'd only just started studying Astronomy when I realised my problems had moved with me. I hadn't been able to leave them behind back in Belgium. So I went into therapy once again. And guess what, here in the Netherlands the treatment was completely different. The approach of my Borderline Personality Disorder was... new, inspiring but at the same time quite hard to endure.

What exactly does "Borderline Personality Disorder" mean?  Well, what's in a word? It means a whole lot of trouble for the persons involved, as well for the patient as for his/her environment. I felt shattered, extremely lonely and rejected by everyone. I couldn't cope with the pain, so I had my own ways of dealing with my problems, including cutting myself or taking too many pills. I was so destructive... About three years ago, however, after another admission and another change of meds, things seemed to change. Step by step, I gained more strength and my life took an unexpected turn. I suddenly was able to LIVE instead of just SURVIVING. I obtained my Bachelor's degree in Latin American Studies Cum Laude. The relationship with my parents improved a lot and I'd stopped punishing myself for all the misery in my life - read: I'd stopped cutting myself. And the most incredible fact is that this situation went on for about three years... until about three months ago. A change of meds and probably the workload and high expectations related to my Master caused a relapse, and a serious one. I had to be admitted to the psychiatric clinic and all the misery I thought I'd lost forever came back. But let me not go into detail, let's look at TODAY. Because I've achieved one thing: I'm still alive, which can be called a little miracle much as I wanted to be dead so that I didn't have to suffer anymore. I didn't do it on my own, however. I survived because we're a team: Berend, Gerdien and the one and only Debz :) I wasn't always happy with their decisions, not to mention my frustration and my distrust of them. But we made it. Yesterday, Gerdien told me she thought they deserved a special decoration, in this sense:

So I made them one, because, although I didn't always approve of their decisions, in the end we made it, and I wanted to show them that I do have a sense of humour and that I appreciate their effort. Because we're a team, that's why!

May is Borderline Personality Disorder Awareness month. Did you know that in the Netherlands alone, a rough 250,000 people suffer from this psychiatric disorder? That's almost 2% of the population. In the US, this number is estimated to be even higher. If you want to learn more about BPD, follow this blog, I'll try to post something about the topic every now and then. Otherwise, read a book about it, google the topic or watch a movie. I can recommend this one, and I have it at home, so if you want to watch it, just ask:

A completely different person

I used to be a runaholic. That was before this depression came round the corner... :( A year ago, I bought myself a decent pair of running shoes and appropiate clothing, I downloaded the 30 episodes of Start to Run, and off I went. Evy Gruyaert, a popular presenter on the Flemish television, started this Start to Run program a couple of years ago. It promises that you'll be able to run 5 kilometres in 10 weeks' time. Of course, training is required, no less than 3 times a week. I don't know if you remember, but last year the weather was awesome from March till June (and that was about it, for that matter), so it was ideal to go running with Evy. She's a good coach, you know, always cheerful, always there to stimulate you: "just two more minutes, come on, you can do it!". I became addicted and I just loved it to hear the good old Flemish accent again. I have to admit that I didn't make it in 10 weeks, but I managed to run 5 kilometres after 12 weeks of constant training, and you know what, it made me feel as if I were a whole new person. I had finally achieved something in my life! It felt really good. Running had made my life different. So I went, dutifully, three times a week. I was able to run those 5 kilometres in about 33 minutes, which is not bad for a beginner. But I was hungry for more. I wanted to run faster, and especially, I wanted to be able to run the so called "Leidse singelloop" in April 2012, a popular running event here in the city of Leiden, with a track of 6.6 km. So more training would be required if I wanted to make it, and I would have to keep on running my precious 5 kilometres during autumn and winter. Not an easy task! And of course, I would have to go that little bit further, to reach the 6.6 km. It doesn't seem a lot more, but in fact it is quite a lot, believe me. 

I went to Belgium for 4 weeks during the summer holidays, but the weather was completely different back then, and during those 4 weeks, I couldn't stick to my schedule. I merely succeeded in running 5 kilometres 4 times during those 4 weeks. After the summer break, I noticed that I had lost the discipline. It became more difficult to run my precious 5 km. I only went twice a week, but I was still happy with it. Autumn began quite good, in fact. The weather was nice again - as it had been in March and April - so I stuck to my program of running twice a week. Even during the winter, I could keep up the pace. I had already bought appropiate clothing for the winter, and when I went to Belgium for Christmas, I ran my 5 km twice a week again. Still, the winter was mild initially. After the Christmas holidays, when I came back to Leiden, everything changed. We suddenly were at -15 degrees! No way I would go out running, especially because the roads were not safe, with the snow and ice and all. The gaps between my training sessions became larger and larger... until I quit completely. That was when this current depression was lurking in the shadows already... As the weather didn't allow me to go out running, I went to the gym twice, using the treadmill. It wasn't the same, but it was as close I could get to my former training conditions. Anyway, I couldn't keep up. I felt quite depressed in February already, but in March it became extremely bad. So no more running for me... Until... today! I went back to the gym, and I can tell you, I feel again as a completely different person :) I'm even a little bit proud, although you can imagine that after a standstill of more than 2 months, I didn't make the 5 km. However, I ran for 15 minutes and then for another 10 minutes with a break of 2 minutes of walking in between, and I reached the 3.8 kilometres. Not bad if you ask me. Afterwards, I was panting, but that shouldn't come as a surprise ;) Anyway, I can recommend it to all of you: if you feel depressed or blue, just go for a run! 


I didn't make the "Leidse singelloop" as you'd probably imagined, but today's experience makes me just that tiny little bit happier again. I should do this more often! And as long as the weather stays unbearable, I will use the treadmill. I'm not really a die hard that goes running when it's pouring with rain or when there's too much wind. Ok, I admit, I'm completely the opposite of a tough girl, but I dare you, dearest reader, to go for a run in the beautiful city of Leiden when the weather gets better. I bet I can beat you by that time! 

América...

Hoy en día, cuando hablan de "América" - en la televisión por ejemplo - muchas veces se refieren a esta parte del mundo donde reina el muy ilustre Barack Obama. 

No me entiendas mal, me gusta mucho Obama. Creo que él es exactamente lo que merece un país tan grande e importante. Sin embargo, lo que no me gusta es el hecho de que refieran a sólo un país, mientras que "América" para mí es mucho más. Es un continente entero, además (por lo menos) parcialmente un continente bien bonito donde está enterrado mi corazón. 

Mejor dicho, mi corazón tiene que estar enterrado en alguna parte de América Latina, el continente del sur que tanto me atrae, pero que también me causa dolor por su historia a veces tan atroz y terrible. 

Aunque nunca he visitado ningún país latinoamericano - por falta de dinero, tiempo, y por razones de salud - sé que algún día iré, y espero encontrar allá lo que no encuentro aquí, en Europa. Pero antes de ir, hay que enterarse de la historia de tales países, puesto que ésa es muy dolorosa, y quiero respetar a la gente que vive allá. Merecen mi respeto.

Tengo bastantes amigos latinoamericanos, tanto gente que vive acá en Holanda como personas que viven en el continente que quiero tanto y que se pusieron en contacto conmigo por el Internet. Lo que siempre me sorprende es la mentalidad de la mayoría de los latinos que siguen allá. Creen que en Europa, al otro lado del Atlántico, todo es mejor. Creen que no tenemos nuestros problemas y que todo el mundo vive en paz y lujo. Siempre tengo que robarles de esta desilusión. Pero tal vez sea normal, porque ellos a veces tienen una vida de mierda. Y se sienten inferiores en comparación con los europeos. Claro, tenemos que tomar en cuenta su historia y el hecho de que el "Hermano Grande" - los Estados Unidos - esté siempre observándolos. 

¿Cómo puedo mostrarles que su continente vale la pena? ¿Cómo puedo decirles que tienen que estar orgullosos de sus países? De acuerdo, no podemos descartar la realidad: hay mucha pobreza, hay problemas políticos, hay guerras de drogas y hay racismo, para sólo nombrar algunos de los numerosos problemas. Pero si se unieran, serían más poderosos que los "gringos", e incluso los europeos. Cuando miré el mundial de fútbol hace dos años, era con tanto orgullo que cantaba el himno nacional de Chile y que canturreaba los demás himnos nacionales latinoamericanos. A veces es como si hubiera nacido allá. Pero puede que eso también sea una desilusión.

De todos modos, mi mensaje tiene que estar claro: América es mucho más que los Estados Unidos. América es un continente, que incluye la parte del sur, donde existen tantas culturas diferentes, donde hay una naturaleza espléndida, donde se habla más que el español y el portugués, donde hay un poder tan grande... Si no fuera por su historia tan complicada y dolorosa, Latinoamérica sería el poder del mundo, y no los Estados Unidos. 

Latinoamérica, te amo, te adoro, te prometo que te visitaré algún día. Y entonces encontraré mi corazón, no importa donde esté enterrado...