Live life the hard way

As I received so many positive and heartwarming reactions on my earlier posts that fall in the category "Borderline and me", I decided to open up once more about a topic that still, after all these years, affects me very deeply. It seems that you, dear reader, appreciate that openness, and I'm glad that people can get something positive out of it, no matter how bad it was then, in those horrible days... Today's topic: life in a psychiatric ward, and how easy it is to spend the rest of your life there instead of living your life the hard way...

As some of you may remember from an earlier post, I'm reading the entire Paulo Coelho collection and at the moment I'm finishing "Veronika decides to die". It's about a young woman who wanted to commit suicide, but it didn't work out as she had wanted - she'd taken an overdose but they found her too early - and now she is in a mental institution and has to cope with her life until she dies. Still, she doesn't want to die anymore, but because of the overdose she's taken, she's going to die anyway, albeit very slowly. 

I've been in quite a few psychiatric hospitals myself, in Belgium as well as in the Netherlands, and although every clinic is different, you always encounter the same kind of people, and if you were not depressed already, you'll become depressed after spending a few days in the clinic, not only because of the people, but also because every ward is kind of cheerless. Last February, I was once again admitted to a clinic in the Netherlands, and although - in my humble opinion - life in a psychiatric ward is better in the Netherlands than in Belgium, I'm so glad that I don't need it anymore. I'm better off at home. Still, sometimes it really is necessary for people to get the support of therapists and nurses, but I think it's better to limit the amount of time people spend in such a clinic. My psychiatrist was right when he wanted me out of there a.s.a.p. It's just that it's so easy to get used to life in a clinic. You don't even notice it yourself, but slowly, very slowly, you become a kind of robot: you wake up in the morning, have breakfast, start the day with the group you belong to, and then you start the program. You have lunch at a certain time, you have dinner at a certain time, you go to bed at a certain time... It's just that - for some reason - you feel safe. You are there with people who have similar experiences, similar feelings... And for some people - but luckily not all of them - life at the clinic is like a holiday: they get their food, have a bed, can go to the gym... They prefer not to live their life the hard way. I, however, made a different choice: I chose to look Life straight into its face!

I was 17 when I was admitted for the first time at a psychiatric hospital. It was not that bad, until I got admitted to a special clinic for youth psychiatry. There, all hell broke loose. Every time that I cut myself - which was like at least once a day - I had to spend three hours in the isolation cell, as a kind of punishment. I didn't agree with this policy of psychiatrist X, so I fought as if it were a matter of life and death. My reward for fighting for my right was the following: they fastened me on the bed in the isolation cell, and I was bound at my waist, hands and feet. I couldn't move and honestly, it hurt. I shed tears, and I cried for my mom, I cried for God, but no one came. I was left all alone and had to spend the entire day there. Sometimes I also had to spend the night there. Once an hour they came to look if I was still fastened to the bed, because the first few times, I was able to loosen the straps. When they found out, they fastened my wrists and ankles even more tightly. They also drugged me, but after a while I refused to take the meds they offered me, because they made me feel extremely drowsy. That's when I started receiving the injections, and I felt even more drowsy. But I was quite stubborn and fought to overcome the drowsyness. However, it didn't work out. I started counting the times they got to me like that - meaning: isolation cell with fixation - but lost count after 40 times. There was no use in counting anymore. 

It's quite painful to write down these memories, even after more than 10 years have passed since I ended up in an isolation cell for the last time. Since I've been living in the Netherlands, I haven't seen the interior of an isolation cell anymore. That's quite an achievement actually, because my behaviour hadn't changed that much in the beginning. Now, of course, I'm completely different. I haven't cut myself in over 4 years. But I can guarantee you, the nightmares of isolation cells keep coming back every once in a while. Also, when I thought I was cleverer than psychiatrist X and her team, I ran away from the clinic a few times. Still, I didn't know the environment very well, and I got easily lost. They came after me, or informed the police, and they eventually found me. Then the police captured me, and I once begged a police officer to let me go. I told him about my horrible experiences in the isolation cell. He told me it was my own fault and that I had to accept the consequences of my irrational behaviour. That's how things went back then. All the endless times I tried to run away from the clinic, all those times I dared Faith to kill me when I crossed the motorway close to the clinic... They come back at me now, and it all touches me very deeply. 


The strange thing is that, after a while, I got kind of used to the separations. I still fought back when they came with 6 full-grown men to catch me and put me in the isolation cell - with straps - but somehow I thought it was indeed my own fault. I thought that I deserved to be punished, for I was a bad person. I was completely brainwashed by psychiatrist X and her team. I now condemn the thoughts I had back then. I thought I was a bad person and that it was God Himself who was punishing me. I thought He acted by the hands of psychiatrist X. Now I know that I was far from right. I once asked one of the Dutch nurses that helped to save me and become a christian once again where God was when I was crying and yelling his name in the isolation cell. She told me the most beautiful thing I've ever heard about God. She said that He was sitting right next to my bed, and that He was crying along with me, for my pain also was His pain... 

Now I reminisce and I see that God was the one that was with me all the time. He gave me the strength to stop this ugly behaviour of cutting myself. He also was the one that opened my eyes: I'm not a psychiatric patient, no! I'm still receiving treatment, and I still have to take my meds on a daily basis, but this illness is not who I am. The person that cut herself died a couple of years ago. I'm a whole new person. I still struggle with my emotions, I still have to fight sometimes to avoid that I fall back, but I'm not alone in this, not anymore. In fact, I've never been alone, but only now I can see it, I can feel it, I can understand it. 

I'll never be able to forget what pyschiatrist X and her team did to me. Still, not all of them were bad. One nurse was so sweet that, if she was working while I was in the isolation cell, she brought me my teddy bear. She knew that I was horrified by everything that happened to me, but she couldn't go against the decisions of psychiatrist X, who was just too powerful. However, that nurse had a very human side in her, and she did have good intentions with me. I'm still thankful for everything that she did, but I can't justify each and every thing they did to me as a team, because they took away my youth, they took away my innocence by isolating and fixating me. A part in me has died because of this, a very shy, vulnerable part. It's really exceptional that I'm writing about these horrible experiences. I just hope that as for today, they don't do that anymore, but I'm afraid that right now, somewhere in this world, someone is suffering just like I suffered back then: in an isolation cell, fastened on the bed, crying, yelling... Afraid, angry, no, furious! And especially, helpless, and so alone, so alone... 

Dead before I die

A couple of months ago I had a conversation with Randy - my English teacher - about death. At that moment I was extremely suicidal, so the idea of death was quite - if not very - appealing to me. That's why I couldn't understand why the idea of death scared Randy, who had serious health problems at that point in time, to death. I claimed that I wasn't afraid to die, quite the contrary in fact. (Ok, I have to admit that that is quite the idea of being suicidal, of course...)

Now, however, I think differently. I'm not yet scared to die, but the idea is by far not that appealing anymore. Somehow, I've seen the light and I want to stay on this planet Earth for a few more years or even decades. I want to see my nieces grow up, I want to finish my studies, I want to find a decent job - preferably as a Spanish teacher - I want to find my Prince Charming and maybe, who knows, see my own child(ren) grow up... But let's not think too far ahead and start with today and maybe also tomorrow. 

If I have to die, then I want to be dead before I die. Sounds strange maybe, but it's in fact very logical. I want to die without knowing that I'm dying. I want it to be over at once, without my ever being conscious of the fact that I'm dying. That's what most people want, I suppose. It's just that quite recently I've seen my loved ones die - R.I.P. mémé Paula and uncle Raphael - and that hurts. I don't know if you've ever been through that process, but I can assure you that it's absolutely NOT what you want. On the other hand, if you go through that process, you can say goodbye more easily, because you've seen it coming. So, let me be just a little bit selfish and absolutely honest: I want to have the opportunity to say goodbye in advance to my loved ones, but if I have to die, if my time has come, I want it to be over at once. Maybe I'll change my mind once again, I don't know...

Yes people, sadly enough and while I'm almost melting from the heat up here in my small room on the fifth floor, I'm thinking about something so cold and distant as death. That's because, even though I don't like it, my grandparents' health - my mom's parents, the only ones still alive - is deteriorating rapidly. Ok, they're not that young anymore, although I consider an age of 80 and 76 (for my grandfather and grandmother respectively) not extremely old, just a tiny little bit old. I love them with all my heart, and it hurts if you notice that their health gets worse every time you visit them. I think it's quite normal that we want to keep them with us as long as we can. Until about a year ago, they were just fine. They had their aches every once in a while, but they were a lot better than the last time I saw them, that is last Sunday, now almost a week ago. It's with fear in my heart that I go to bed at night and with anxiety that I wake up in the morning, wondering if they're still alive. I'm even afraid to call my mom, and it scares the hell out of me if my mom calls me unexpectedly. I always think that she'll bring me the bad news. I had the same thing when my grandma - my godmother whose name I proudly wear as my second name - was ill and died in the end, now more than two years ago. But she was 89, which is old enough to let go. I could get over it more easily than I'd thought before, maybe because I'd had enough opportunities to say goodbye to her. And while it was still sad to see her go, I had a peaceful feeling in my heart. Her time had come, and she would be better off in heaven, although she didn't believe in God. But I do, so...

R.I.P. Mémé Paula

In fact, I could say that I'm a little bit obsessed with death, in the sense that I'm afraid that my loved ones will be dead from one day to the next in the near future and that I will not have told and shown them how much I love them, and that then it will be much too late. So now I try to enjoy every moment with the people - and animals - that I love, because it can be over before you expect it. I try to get the beautiful moments firmly into my mind, so as not to forget them. Sometimes I have these moments in which I think: "I should remember him/her like he/she is right now, because it's a moment of quality time that I'll (hopefully) remember long afterwards". And although I have learnt to enjoy the moments we spend together and to appreciate the fact that I get along well with my loved ones, it will still come as a shock if I hear that another person that I love has passed away. Being prepared in this sense doesn't suffice. But that's probably the course of life, and we cannot do anything but accept it, right? 

"God, give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference" (Francis Assisi)

Mid-August resolutions

As the New Year is approaching real fast - only 144 days left! - I thought it was about time to make some resolutions. However, if I'm a bit more realistic, it's still a while till we reach January 1st, 2013, so let's call these resolutions "mid-August resolutions". Next week I'll be back in the Netherlands after almost 5 weeks of holidays spent partly in Belgium and partly in France. I think it's good to change a couple of things in my life when I get back. I'm already working on a few of them, but of course I'll have to persevere once I'm back in Leiden.  

First of all, I'll have to pick up exercising again. It's been a while since I ran my precious 5 kilometres, so I suppose I won't be able to do it anymore. I'll try to go to the gym more often, preferably twice or even three times a week. That would be just perfect! I've been thinking about picking up riding the bycicle instead of running, especially because of the fact that the possibility of running into a serious injury is by far bigger if you run than if you ride the bycicle. Still, I love running, but it seems that I prefer running on a treadmill instead of running outside. The problem is that the track that I usually follow is quite dangerous because of the traffic. It's not easy to find a 5 kilometre track that is perfectly safe where I live. If I'm going to ride the bicycle, it'll probably also be in the gym to start, because I have no idea if I'll like it or not. I already ordered the book "Start to bike" by Evy Gruyaert, and once I've read the book, I'll be able to try if I like it or if I still prefer running. My heart will always be with the "Start to Run"-program, no matter what happens, because that was the start of me getting back into shape.

Furthermore, and in spite of the strong meds I have to take on a daily basis, I want to get up at 8.30 or 9AM at the latest. For most of you that'll be late already, but considering I'm on those strong meds, that is quite early. I've already practised a bit, and it seems to work, but I want to get rid of this awful rhythm that allows me to go to sleep after 1AM and to wake up after 11AM. It's just no good! And then I hope that I'll be able to do something before 1PM, because during the past two or three years I've experienced that I could only start studying after 1PM, and then the days are very short, unless you study till 1AM and then go to bed, a rhythm I've had for the past two or three years. I've tried to change it dozens of times, but it just didn't work out, no matter how hard I tried. So no more snoozing in the morning!

Another important topic is reading. I've always loved reading, but since I got up so late and spent too much time in bed and studying, I haven't read that many books during the last few years. But now, after two weeks of holidays in France which included a lot of reading, I've changed my mind. I want to spend at least one hour a day reading, preferably even more, and, if possible, outside, on a bench in a park or on the beach. The fresh air gives me more energy, it seems. Lately I've bought a pile of books: the entire Paulo Coelho collection in English, the Millennium trilogy in English and the entire collection of le Petit Nicolas in French, among other things.

Speaking about languages, here comes another resolution: improve the foreign languages I speak. I've always adored learning foreign languages, but as I was quite good at learning languages in general, I never spent much time on them at high school. Now that I'm a university student, however, I realise that it's very important to master more than one language at a fairly good level, and I want to improve the foreign languages that I already speak. I'm a native speaker of Dutch, but I'm practically bilingual because I've been studying Spanish for a couple of years now, and sometimes my teachers gave me compliments by telling me that I had a native-like level. That's exactly what I want! Two years ago I decided that I also wanted to improve my English, so I took some courses in English. Until now, I've completed 4 courses, and I want to do one more. Besides that, I also want to improve my French. Now that I've been in France for two weeks, I can truly admit that I also love that language. Unfortunately and although I understood the French people talking to me most of the time, I wasn't really able to respond to their questions or utterances, because all the time my brain told me to use Spanish words instead of French ones. With a lot of effort I was able to produce something intelligible, but it wasn't easy and it cost a lot of time to think of a grammatically acceptable sentence. Another language that I must improve is (Brazilian) Portuguese. I've only completed two courses, and I can recommend the language to anyone who is quite a fan of Romance languages. Oh, Portuguese is so beautiful! Preferably, I'd go to Brasil and take part in some language courses there, but I'm actually short of time and... money. Anyway, the idea concerning the foreign languages is that, if I wake up at about 9 o'clock and if I'm able to do something about an hour after waking up, I study about an hour each day, maybe more if there is enough time. See how everything fits?

And then I finally get to my last resolution, that is, for the time being. When I was 16 years old, I started studying the sky at night. I read lots of books about astronomy and went to meetings a few times a year. I also was a member of a group of people who met at an observatory each week, and it was a lot of fun! I do miss these people, but nothing stands in my way to start all over again in the Netherlands. I'd like to invest more time in astronomy, not only in reading, but also by putting things into practice. It would be awesome to join a club of astronomers at the observatory in Leiden and meet once a week or so!

So, people, what do you think of my mid-August resolutions? I hope I'll manage to carry out all five of them, but it'll probably not work out that well. In any case, if you guys read a post written by me about this same topic on New Year's Eve, you can easily conclude that at least something has gone wrong. Still, I hope I'll be able to hold on to these resolutions and that I can change my life in a perfectly acceptable way. Fingers crossed, please!

A serious note about slimeballs

In life, you sometimes come upon that kind of people that can truly be called cowards and bootlickers - a.k.a. slimeballs. This type of people is usually not so hard to find. Everyone will have at least one among his/her so-called friends and/or family. I honestly detest this kind of people, but I don’t know what to do about them. I’ve tried to give them the opportunity to annihilate bad things that happened in the past, to give them a chance to make things better, so to speak. However, it didn’t work out, and that is just too bad, for them as well as for me. Now I have to admit that I’m quite frustrated for I’ve had too much of it. I'm done with them. That’s why I’m writing this post, not because I’m very mad or something like that, but just because I’m extremely disappointed in the subdivision of the human race that is characterised by cowardice and jealousy, among other things.

Cowardice in this sense can be seen in the fact that this type of person wants to set the people that you love – and that love you, for that matter – against you. (S)he tries to create doubt in the people that you love. (S)he tries to convince them that you are utterly bad, by questioning your good intentions, by criticising your every single move and by fault-finding in the most extreme sense. And every once in a while - and very unfortunately - (s)he achieves his/her goal and the people that you love go along with everything (s)he alleges.

The bootlicker’s part is clearly seen in the fact that the bootlicker in question tries to lick the heels of all the people that will be of use to him/her someday. (S)he can’t stop giving them compliments, while everything that you say receives criticism because - you need to face the truth - you are of no importance to them. Not a single word you say receives approval. Whenever you say white, (s)he says black, and whenever you say black, (s)he says white, no matter what the context is. Besides that, it's also possible that you're simply ignored, no matter what you say. Then, if you are that type of person that I am, that is, very sensitive and quite sensible, you start to question your every single act, whereas you should be questioning THEIR moves, not your own!

What is wrong with this kind of people? Are they just jealous? But why should they be jealous? They already have everything that you can only dream about! YOU should be jealous of THEM, not the other way around! How greedy can you be, I ask myself... 

I think I can now safely conclude that everything is lost with this kind of people. No matter how hard you try to make things better, if (s)he won't realise that (s)he is wrong and chooses the wrong way to handle things, you can't do anything about it. It is his/her choice, not yours! Still, it's not easy to accept that even people that you really care about started blackmailing you behind your back a long time ago and now already do it in the open, especially when you've never had the intention to hurt THEM! It seems that they have every intention to hurt YOU! And then I keep quiet so as not to hurt anyone's feelings... The question that matters is: How long will I be able to keep things this way? When will this little time bomb deep within me explode? Because I'm not that easily hurt, and I can take quite a lot, but even I have to respect the fact that there are limits. So if you feel like I'm talking about you, talk to me and let's be honest and open about it. It's not too late yet to set things straight, that is, in my humble opinion. Period.