Superstition might be a religion too

I'll admit it, dear reader, I'm one of these people that stick to their old superstitious habits while actually being a christian. And I bet I'm not the only person that doesn't like anything with the number 13 on it, that never walks under ladders or that feels somewhat awkward when somebody sends you an e-mail you have to forward to at least 15 friends of yours in order to not break the chain or otherwise... something will happen. Furthermore, I have OCD, abbreviation for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. In concrete, I have to count my steps, I have to count the stairs, I have to cross a street by putting one foot on the white lines of the pedestrian crossing and I can't walk on the yellow stones in the street or else... yeah right, what else? Even more, I have to see pass by certain hours in numbers on the digital clock, preferably 12.34 and 23.45 every day, but there are also other beautiful examples, like 11.11 or 22.22 or... hell, there are a lot of beautiful hours, too many actually... If you'd know how much time I spend - or rather loose - on a daily basis by watching obsessively at that digital clock...

 

 

As a christian, I believe that God protects me, and that He has great plans for me in store. Therefore, I actually don't need those little treasures that have the reputation to bring luck, like Buddha figures or lucky numbers... but I had/have them, and I feel guilty about it. See, I used to be a catholic, and so the virgin Mary was a very important figure, even though me and my family weren't that religious. Now I see that adoring  or worshipping the saints and the virgin Mary is wrong. It's all about Jesus, only Him, and you shouldn't worship anybody else but God and His son Jesus. I can imagine that it sounds a bit stupid if you're not a christian, or if you're one of those catholics that have been raised with the idea that the saints and especially the virgin Mary are very important figures in the catholic religion and the life of Jesus. I can tell you - and beg you - to dedicate some space in your heart to Jesus. That's what it's all about in our religion. If you accept Jesus in your life, God will be very pleased with you, and He'll help you through whatever difficult times you have to go through. Believe me, I've been there (and still am...).

But let me turn back to superstition, because in fact I don't really care if you adhere to the virgin Mary. No, what I really want to talk about is this: I really dislike it when people send me this kind of e-mails that supposedly bring you luck or money if you send them to a couple of friends and bad luck or poverty when you don't. I know that God is real, so I shouldn't pay attention to them and just delete them, but that's easier said than done. Also, because of my OCD, I have this thing with numbers. No, not numerology, because the occult is even worse than superstition, and I'll talk about that later on, but just numbers. They're everywhere, even in my small 12 m2 room. There are lucky numbers, like the number 7, and there are numbers that bring bad luck, like the number 13. Unfortunately, and while I know that God doesn't want me to focus on those numbers, I do have bad feelings with the number 13 and good feelings with other numbers. I know I shouldn't, but it's not that simple. 

However, there is more to superstition than just numbers. A few weeks ago, I was walking with a friend of mine through the beautiful city of Leiden, when she suddenly saw an oil lamp at a second hand store. She was determined to buy it, and I think the owner of the shop actually rippped her off by asking 10 euros for it, while it was not working properly, but ok, if that'd make her happy, then I wouldn't want to prevent that happiness. I asked her afterwards why she was so determined to buy it, and then she told me that she already had almost everything prepared for the 21st of December. That made me laugh initially because I thought she was making a joke, but she was pretty serious about it. I remember that some people are afraid that the end of the world is near, because of the prediction of the Mayan calendar. My friend's not exactly adhering to that theory, but she knows for sure that there will be a sunstorm on that day and that the sun will explode and that there will be darkness everywhere, that all the power stations will break down, that there will be no food, that people will plunder the shops for food and water... exactly, the end of the world in a somewhat more dramatic way. I'm not ridiculing her, especially not if she's going to read this, but I'm asking myself: Where does this idea come from? She's quite intelligent, in her fifties and not mentally disturbed, but she was really serious about it. She's even a catholic. Now I know for sure that the sun won't explode on December 21st, just because I've been reading about how stars - for the sun is just a star - explode when their fuel supply comes to an end, and our sun still has a few million years to go before this happens. I think that the chance that a meteorite hits the earth and destroys life is actually far more bigger than the idea of an exploding sun. However, I don't have a good feeling about 21-12 either, but I don't think it will be the end of the world. It's just this number (numbers again, yes sir!), perfectly mirrored...

Another kind of superstition are horoscopes. People, you just shouldn't do that. It's all a bunch of crap. Just because you were born on a day that the planet Mars was in the constellation Gemini means that you are easily bad-tempered? Or because Jupiter and Saturn were in a specific conjunction that means that we will be in trouble? I gave these examples, but of course they are imaginary, but my point is that there really is no connection at all between the position of the planets and your character. You are you, just because God made you that way. Do you really think that two people born on the same day at about the same hour will be perfectly equal when it comes to character? And isn't it just the case that those horoscopes, especially the predictions for the coming week, are so general that it's always applicable to someone? Be honest, there is no and there can be no relation between the position of the planets and our future. There is only one person who knows what future has in store for us, and that is God. Trust me, He really is trustworthy!

Let's talk about the occult now. It's not the same as superstition, that's true, but I consider it as a kind of different "religion" too. I have to admit that, when I was younger, say 14 or 15 years old, I used to evoke spirits. My two cousins and I made a kind of habit of it at New Year's Eve. Some strange things happened back then, but I've always blamed one of my cousins. However, when my pastor asked me about it a while ago, and after I'd admitted that we used to do that, he told me that the strange things that had happened actually could have been real, because evoking spirits is not that innocent as you might think. Now I regret having done that, and I believe that we should stick to the bible when God forbids this kind of things. He knows what's good for us and what isn't. The same counts for Tarot cards and fortune-telling. You just shouldn't do that, it can do irrevocable damage to a place and the persons involved. Don't consult fortune-tellers, it's occult and God forbids it. Chances are big that it's just a rip-off anyway. I do believe that some people are able to talk to ghosts, but I don't think it's a good idea to consult this kind of people. God wouldn't have forbidden it if he didn't have some very good reasons for it. That guy Derek Ogilvie for example gives me the creeps. I actually do believe that he is a medium, but I stick to my idea that he shouldn't do that. He should know that there are some very evil spirits out there. Yes, I do believe that some spirits of deceased people keep on wandering around on our planet earth, but I don't see any reason to consult them to ask them what they are experiencing now. 

What's more, people that claim that they've seen a ghost and that that ghost told them things they could possibly not have known if they hadn't been friends or family have to realise that we're not really dealing with true ghosts here. This is just some evil idea of the devil that wants to convince you that it's allright to evoke spirits. However, they are absolutely wrong. The devil knows everything about you: your fears, your hopes, your memories... everything. And he abuses that to make you believe that you're communicating with deceased loved ones, while he's actually playing tricks on you, because the only thing he wants is that you start doing bad things, things that help to destroy other people and the planet. If you open the door for the devil, you don't even need to invite him in, because he'll come in anyway and very easily. 

To finish, I have one more example of things to put on your not-to-do list: wicca. I believe that witches exist and that they can cure a disease by using herbs, but I don't believe in the magic they're using. I really love Harry Potter, but there's no such thing as wizards and witches. You know, I used to be a polytheist, so I worshipped the gods of nature, which was partially pretty well based on wicca. The rituals they perform are very questionable however. Some believe they can exorcize the devil. I think the only way to say no to the devil is to take authority of your life and to pray. God will help you, and if you believe that the devil is inside of you, just talk about it with a christian. He or she might be able to help you. Wizards and witches may have good intentions, and they might think that they go back to basics by focussing on the earth, but they don't go back far enough. The real base is namely God, He's the one you should be able to trust and allow in your life.

Superstition and the occult were the topics of this post. I have undertaken some of these occult things, and I repent it. Now I know that some of these actions can have serious and irrevocable consequences. About superstition then... I think it's my OCD that is telling me to be superstitious. I know I should get some treatment for that, but that is not going to happen real soon, I'm not stable enough. It's just that I'm always worrying about getting good grades, about falling in love with the right person, about finding a job, about anything you can imagine. And then I'm so stubbornly superstitious that I actually believe that, if I don't do this or that that I have to do, or if I do something that I'm not supposed to do, then something terrible will happen, be it in the near or the far future.That's why I think that people who are superstitious are actually adherents of a certain religion, and the same counts for people that spend their time on Wicca, Tarot cards or talking to spirits. I can't recommend it to you. If you're really looking for a bigger being, then ask God to come into your life. He's right there, on your doorstep, and contrary to the devil, He does knock, and He waits till you invite Him in. It's as simple as that... 

 

This is my story

My name is D***** M***** and I'm 29 year's old. I'd appreciate it if you took a tour with me through the story of my life as it has become and is right now.

I was born in Kortrijk, Belgium and I've had quite a life so far. If you don't believe me, read my blog. I'm suffering from Borderline Personality Disorder, which means that each day is a struggle to survive. In order to develop Borderline, there are certain biological, social and psychological factors to be taken into account. This means that the combination of these three types of factors leads to the development of this personality disorder - and probably also some other mental diseases. However, it's also possible that you weren't born with it - the biological factor - but that you develop it later in life as a result of social and psychological factors, but most people with Borderline will show the combination of these three types of factors. 

As a child, I already was pretty shy and had a low self-esteem. I didn't have many friends, but I was happy with the ones I had. At elementary school and at secondary school I wasn't one of the most popular girls - right then, it were only girls - nor one of the most unpopular ones, but I was one of the brightest students of my class. And as you may have read in an earlier post, that wasn't always appreciated by my peers. However, I was also quite naïve in the sense that I trusted people blindly (and I sometimes still do, however stupid that may be... as experience has taught me...). I loved talking to my teachers, because I looked up to them. I idolised some of them, and in quite a few cases I got really attached to them. This had as a consequence that it was hard to say goodbye to my teachers every time the school year came to an end, especially when I knew that I wouldn't see that teacher anymore in my classroom in the year(s) to come. This already happened when I was very young, so this could already have been a sign that one day I would develop Borderline, especially because, later on, at secondary school, I either idolised my teachers or I loathed them: black or white. Or as the DSM-IV describes it:


Criterion 2. a pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation.

Not only did I have this kind of very intense relationships with my teachers, but also with nearly everybody around me, including my friends. And the older I got, the more problems I had with respect to relations with friends, because I felt unstable and not loved by anybody, and I was so afraid that I would lose the few people I had, so afraid that I clung myself to them. But that only worked all wrong. As a result, I nearly lost all my elementary and secondary school friends when the borderline symptoms were already quite well visible, because they thought I was a freak. One moment I loved one specific friend, the other moment I hated him/her and told them to leave me because I wasn't worth their friendship, only to call that same person a couple of hours later to ask them to please, please come back. Also, later in life, I was marked because of all the people that had abandonned me, so that every time a new person/friend comes in my life, I'm already afraid to lose them and that they will abandon me once, for some or other reason. The DSM formulates it like this:

Criterion 1. frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment. Note: Do not include suicidal or self-mutilating behavior covered in Criterion 5.

Talking about self-mutilation and suicidal behaviour, I turn to the fifth criterion of the DSM:


Criterion 5. recurrent suicidal behavior, gestures, or threats, or self-mutilating behavior.

If you're a regular visitor of this blog, you'll know a lot about this topic already. However, I've never really told how the cutting began, have I? I was 17 indeed, when I noticed that I really couldn't handle the pain I felt deep inside of me any longer. It overwhelmed me, time and time again. Also, I noticed that I could no longer think rationally and that my emotions and the emotional me overtook the rational thinking and the rational me. So I started banging my head against the wall. This helped, but only for a very short period of time. And also in class I had these tough moments, but there it wasn't possible to bang my head against the wall, obviously. So I used to trace lines on my hands with my fingernails. I tried to converse the pain deep inside of me into physical pain. I discovered very soon that a pencil worked a lot better than just fingernails. And then, one day, I saw these scissors in my sister's room... and I gave it a go, and discovered that it was quite a relief to cut with those, because it were not just red slashes anymore, but there actually appeared small drops of... blood... and that seemed to work to ease the pain deep inside of me. Finally, a way to handle that horrible pain deep inside of me. So it became a habit, a very bad habit indeed, but it worked well for me. That's how it all began, and only later on did I start cutting with glass, just to see more blood. Blood became the biggest obsession in my life. It wasn't just the pain, if only it were just the pain! You can hurt yourself in a much more humane way than by cutting yourself, for example by holding ice cubes in your hands. But it was all about the blood, to see and feel it run down on my arms and legs... I won't go into details here, dear reader, that would only freak you out and it's still not easy to write about it, because a part of that obsession still lives inside of me...

Approximately at the same time that I began cutting myself, I had a very good friend. At that moment, it felt as if she were the only one on this planet that really cared about me, for I had a boyfriend at that moment, but he treated me badly, without any respect, and it seemed that I was only one of his possessions. I was also under the impression that not one member of my family really cared about me, nor my regular friends or my classmates. She was the only person with whom I felt at ease. The only problem was that she fell in love with me, and until this very moment, I'm still confused when I think about her, especially because I know that she is now married with a Dutch guy, and she even has a child with that man, but I'm not allowed to contact her because "she hasn't gotten over me yet" (her words). It's just not fair, where did she get the right to create doubt in my heart, for up till today I'm still not 100% sure whether I prefer a guy or a girl as my future partner. Luckily, there is God and the church, and they help me to make the right decision, and day by day I'm getting more and more sure about the fact that I want to marry a guy, but still, she created doubt in my heart, and it's still painful to think about her and about the beautiful moments we shared together. If it hadn't been for her, I would probably never have considered a relationship with a girl. Although I also have to admit that, because of the boyfriends I've had and their abuse, I have a few traumas I have to deal with when it comes to sexuality and intimacy. 

I notice that today I'm even more open on my blog than I've ever been. I hope you don't mind my openness, but let me add this: I'm not against gay people, not at all. I only know that in my family, I would never ever be accepted if I were to come home with a girl as my future partner. Somehow it's still a big taboo in my family. I've seen it happen with a cousin who declared that he's gay a couple of months ago. Furthermore, I've had a few boyfriends, and I know deep inside that I want to marry a man, not a woman. But somehow, I feel a lot safer when I'm with women, probably because of the things certain boyfriends have done to me. They've harmed me so badly... there are no words for that, and I really have to start working on that trauma. However, identity crises are fairly common in people with Borderline. Or as the DSM puts it:
 
Criterion 3. identity disturbance: markedly and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self.


I can't look at myself in the mirror without thinking that I'm just not good enough. I don't like what I see - never liked it, to be honest. And I don't know if that's ever going to change. Also, when I look at my arms and legs and their scars, I feel ashamed and sad. I wish I could turn back the hands of time, but unfortunately that's not possible. So I guess I'll have to learn to deal with it. 

The moments in which I hate myself are diminishing in number, but I can't see myself as a nice young lady, let alone as an attractive woman for a man. I have to work on that, I know, but my ex-boyfriends never told me that I was pretty. And in general, I didn't want to be pretty, because once, when I was still a teenager, I was kind of pretty, and all those disgusting boys and even men came to me because they wanted something from me that I didn't want to give them.

Until now, I've covered a few of the characteristics people with Borderline have, but there is more. As you may know, people with Borderline have endless troubles with their emotions and may be unceasingly unstable because of unexpected - and unwanted! - mood swings and the emotions that go hand in hand with these switches.

Criterion 6. affective instability due to a marked reactivity of mood (e.g., intense episodic dysphoria, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days).

The strange thing is that an emotion can change from one moment to the other, while I don't have an immediate cause that can declare that change. There'll surely be one, but at that moment in time, I just can't see it. Another problem is that every emotion that I feel - be it anger, anxiety, grief or... - comes in much more stronger, let's say, five- to ten-fold, in comparison with people without Borderline. In my personal case, the most painful moments are those filled with grief. Other people have this with anger, but that doesn't occur very often anymore in my life, so the following criterion is not really valid for me anymore:

Criterion 8. inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger (e.g., frequent displays of temper, constant anger, recurrent physical fights).

However, the next criterion tells us something about a feeling of emptiness:

Criterion 7. chronic feelings of emptiness.

Have you ever felt all alone, even among a group of people? Have you ever felt alone when you were having a conversation with a friend? Have you ever felt emptiness in your heart, as if there was nothing there? A very heavy feeling, heavy as lead, that tears your soul apart? That's what happens so often. Even when I'm supposed to enjoy my time together with friends or family, I feel that empty... It's chronic in the sense that it never goes away. It just feels as if I'm missing out on something in my life, there is a place in my heart, and nobody or nothing has occupied that place. No, I'm lying, because God has actually taken that place for a big part, but there is still a lot of emptiness left there, unfortunately... And so often, I feel the urge to compensate this terrible feeling of emptiness. Then I start buying things, particularly online (read about this kind of behaviour in an earlier post). 

Criterion 4. impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g., spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating). Note: Do not include suicidal or self-mutilating behavior covered in Criterion 5. 

The behaviour mentioned here has never really been an issue in my life. Ok, I've spent too much than I could actually afford every now and then, and yes, I've had trouble with what I call "emotional eating", but I've never gambled, never used alcohol or drugs, never had reckless actions. Therefore I have to praise the Lord, because with my fellow Borderline patients I've seen this kind of behaviour all too often. 

This tour to my life as it is nowadays is almost coming to an end. Let me discuss one more criterion, as described in the DSM-IV. I can remember that I once wrote a post about hearing voices. But there is more when it comes to Borderline, and maybe it's an idea to write about this topic in a separate post. Otherwise, this post will be really too long. 

Criterion 9. transient, stress-related paranoid ideation or severe dissociative symptoms.

In one of the coming posts, I promise I will tell you all about my paranoid feelings and perhaps even something about dissociation. The paranoia is all about being heard and seen by cameras and microphones everywhere, all the time. But I won't bother you with the details now, I'll save that for another post.  

This post was originally inspired by a video my dear friend Tissy sent me. You can watch the video here: 

As for me, I can say that yes, I still have this Borderline Personality Disorder, but I think that I'm also a recovering borderliner in the sense that I haven't cut myself in over 4 years' time, I can control my emotions every now and then, for I've learnt to talk about them with the therapists and nurses around me. It's still a struggle, however, especially when it comes to accepting myself the way I am. This weekend, a visiting pastor - pastor Ben Dekker, see his website - talked to me when I went to the altar, and without knowing me, he spoke to me about acceptation of the self. I was kind of shocked because, how could he know, but he told me that, if I radically accepted Jesus and God in my life, that I'd be able to accept myself. I'd feel a lot better than I'm feeling right now. He told me that, if I started loving myself as God loves me, and if I radically chose for God and dedicated my life to Him, I would be able to let go all the negative feelings. He also prayed for me, and told me to speak up to the devil were I to experience his presence in whichever way. 

 

In fact, now it's up to me. Do I choose to go on on the path of selfdestruction, selfhate and selfloathing, or do I start from scratch, giving myself the opportunity to love myself more than I've ever done before? Ben Dekker's first sermon was all about this: with God, you can always start all over again, because he gives you the opportunity to do so. Just go to Him, entrust Him with your sorrow and ask Him to start all over again. And because He loves you so much, because you are His child, He'll give you that opportunity, time and time again. 

 

So now there is this difficult task to walk that path, the right path, the path of love instead of hate, the path of construction instead of destruction, the path of building things up instead of breaking things down. Will you help me to stay on that path?
 

 

Worth the price

In earlier posts about borderline and in my most recent post about bullying, you might have read about the darkest moments in my life. I'm almost 30 years old, and when I look back at my childhood and youth, I feel like it's been bad all along, but this might be the picture at this moment in time. It's just that I've always been different, especially when I compare myself with my sister and peers. I'm not saying that I had an unhappy childhood, but it wasn't always easy. I was very introverted, and that has only changed since I've lived in the Netherlands. When I was angry or sad, I always clenched my teeth and felt the pain, anger and/or sadness, but I refused to let it out. That's why everybody always thought I was a happy and carefree child. 

   
However, that was far from true. I can still remember one of the most disappointing and troublesome moments of my childhood. That was when I was only 7 years old. My granddad died and that was the first time I was confronted with death. My parents didn't allow me to see him on his deathbed because they thought I would be frightened. I still reproach them for not having been able to really say goodbye to him. However, when I was about 9, my great-grandmother died, and then it was different: I could pay her a last visit. Everybody was amazed about my way of dealing with that situation. I went to her bed, touched her cold hands and face and asked my mom if I could give her a kiss. When I was 12, my other great-grandmother died, and I noticed that every time somebody I loved died, it got more and more difficult and painful. I can't cope with people and animals dying. People can't imagine how a child deals with this kind of situations, but I remember each and every one of these moments very well, including how my mom told me that somebody had died. It made me very sad, although I was still that young. And I wasn't allowed to cry, because my mom had to cry when she saw that I was sad. So she kind of forbade me to cry, she couldn't deal with the pain I felt. And that's how it's always been, we're symbiotically connected to each other. Symbiosis is a relationship in which the one can't live without the other, however difficult it may sometimes be to be together. There can raise conflicts and the like, but in some way or the other, you can't live with each other, nor without each other.

Then, when I was a teenager, I loved studying, I even did some extra-curricular stuff, and yes, some fellow students thought that was a good reason to ridicule me. When I was 10 years old, I started studying dinosaurs. I continued doing this until I was about 16. From that moment on, astronomy and Spanish took over from the dinosaurs. However, when puberty began, I was a very calm and seemingly cheerful youngster. I never caused any trouble, nor at home, nor at school, nor at the trampoline club, while my sister, who is six years older than me, was a regular adolescent in the sense that she did have her whims and she did express her feelings - she was an example adolescent, let's say. I spent most of the time in my room, alone, already when I was very young. And all that time I spent studying, reading, writing, you name it. I got excellent grades, but my teachers were worried that I didn't play enough (that was actually the only remark on the first report I got with a perfect score). In fact, I didn't really like playing, except with Lego. Then I constructed a city of my own, and I made up an entire story. I wrote three children's books - when I was 10, 11 and 12 respectively - and my dream was to become a writer or a professor. Anyway, it feels like all my life and since I was very young I've said yes and amen to everybody, without ever putting myself first. I've kept all my problems for myself, for too long, it seems now. But all the people around me saw me as a happy and cheerful child, while in fact I could be very, very sad and unhappy.

And then, at secondary school, at the age of 16, everything changed dramatically and irrevocably. I couldn't deal with my emotions anymore, especially because of the exclusion and bullying of a few of my peers. I don't know how, but somehow I managed to survive for more than a year in that class. It all went wrong in May 2000. That was when I got suicidal for the first time. I wanted to jump off the stairs at school, in order to kill myself. A teacher dragged me up the stairs to a special room where students with problems could get theirselves together again. I remember that she was in fact pretty mad. It was my religion's teacher, and I told her I didn't want to live anymore. I lost friends, they thought my behaviour was irrational. And they were right, it was. But it got even worse when I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital. You know that story, don't you?

Anyway, right now I can only praise God for all the blessings in my life. Sounds weird after such an introduction? It might... But, you know, dear reader, if I hadn't ended up in that horrible class, I'd probably never have been here in the Netherlands right now. Now my English teacher is going to like the next part, because let's construct IF-sentences:

If I had never been in that horrible class, and if I hadn't been such an introverted person, ánd if I hadn't had the genes for the Borderline Personality Disorder, I would never have become so depressed. If I hadn't become so depressed, I wouldn't have become a psychiatric patient. If I hadn't become a psychiatric patient, I'd never have ended up in that psychiatric ward of a regular hospital, and later on, via the psychiatrist of that ward, in a psychiatric youth clinic. If I hadn't been admitted to that clinic, and if all those horrific things - about which you can read in another post - hadn't happened there, I'd never have wanted to move to a place far, far away from that horrible place. If I'd never had that feeling to get away ASAP from that terrible place, I'd never have had plans to move to the Netherlands. And if I'd never begun studying astronomy when I was 16 years old, I'd never have been interested in studying astronomy for real. The combination of my interest in astronomy and the desire to get away from Belgium ASAP led to my moving to Leiden. If I hadn't been a psychiatric patient already, I'd never have ended up at the Emergency Room, where I met my former and wonderful psychiatrist I admire so much. If we hadn't met there, I'd probably never have been referred to the clinic - a day-care centre - in Oegstgeest. If I hadn't been referred to that clinic, I wouldn't have come to the conclusion that I was a very impulsive and destructive person indeed, and I'd never have learnt how to deal with emotions differently, i.e. by taking up my own responsibility. If that hadn't happened, I'd already have been dead, probably already in Belgium if I hadn't moved to the Netherlands, because I can honestly say that life here in the Netherlands literally saved my life (and therefore that of my parents, who wouldn't be able to cope with my suicide, especially not my mom). If I hadn't learnt that, they'd never have accepted me at an open ward of a psychiatric hospital, and I'd never have met that specific nurse I talked about in an earlier post, and she'd never have talked about God and His son Jesus. I'd never have become a christian, and I'd never have been where I am right now. OK, there are these ups and downs, but I can feel that God is at work in my life. 

So, if people asked me: "Was it worth it? All the awful emotions, all the distress, all the crises, all the cutting, burning, hurting yourself in one way or the other... was it worth it?", I'd answer: YES, because now I have God in my life, and with Him, everything is possible. It can't be a coincidence that I haven't cut myself in over four year's time, exactly the same amount of time that has passed since I got saved. If God wasn't in my life, I'd already be dead for a long, long time. My first serious suicide attempt was at the psychiatric youth clinic, when I had just turned 18. I'll be honest, I tried to hang myself. But I didn't succeed because, at the moment when I stood on the bed, ready to jump off in order to hang myself, somebody knocked on my door. I said NO, and they didn't enter. That was kind of a relief, but I know that right then I started to doubt about my deed. I mean, it's quite symbolic, the moment you want to do it, somebody knocks at your door. So I wasn't that sure anymore. Doubt rose in my heart. That person came back a few minutes later, and I was still in doubt, and again answered NO. I know that then panic came to me, because I didn't know what to do anymore. The third time the nurse knocked on my door, I answered NO once again, but she entered anyway, and as I was panicking, I jumped off the bed in order to hang myself. However, she reacted rapidly and sensibly and pulled me up. Immediately there was a big alarm, and people came to help her and to lock me up in an isolation cell... again. However, I was very confused about what had happened, and I didn't struggle this time, I just let them carry me to the isolation ward. The day after that strange moment, they released me under certain conditions. I wanted to talk to that nurse about what had happened when she entered my room, but I couldn't really talk to her because I was actually pretty mad. Why the hell did she save me? Why did she spread doubt in my heart by knocking at my door at that crucial moment? So we had a so-called semi-written conversation: she talked, I wrote. And she told me that at that moment she had panicked too, and that she had immediately acted just because that's what people do in such situations. She also asked me why I wanted to take that irrevocable step. And she talked about 'caring about', not only about me caring about others, but also about others caring about me. At that moment I had the feeling that there was nobody in this world that really cared about me: not my parents, not my sister, not my friends... just nobody. But I was wrong, because God cared about me, and He still does. Now I know, and I should feel happy and grateful about it. But it's kind of hard right now, now that I am faced with this awfully dark period in my life again. I've made the ever-returning error to want to talk/write about the past while I'm not ready for it yet and while I know that it's a tough part of my history which is difficult to deal with...

I can honestly say that my life right now is a lot better than it was 12 years ago, and even better than it was about four years ago. And I do believe that's because of God's divine presence in my life: He wants the best for me. My life is still far from perfect, but at least I know now that I'm not all alone in all this. There is someone by my side, and He will never ever leave me. And yes, it's been worth the price: the depressions, the suicidal emotions, the scars... because He's worth it! Of course, it still hurts, and I have these moments in which I ask myself if all these moments of isolation were necessary, if all the cuts were necessary to come to the place and time where I am right now. I can honestly say that YES, it was probably necessary to take me to where I am right now. I do regret certain things in my life, and I'm still reproachful towards certain people, but I also know that it can only get better from now on. He will guide the way, I truly believe that. When my pastor told me that God is going to do wonderful things in my life last month, I initially didn't believe him and took it more as an encouragement. Now however, after a healing service with pastor Alkema and with three healing services with pastor Dekker to come this weekend, I know that God is already doing wonderful things in my life. And there is more to come, I know that. If you only believe and work towards it...
 

I have been there

It was all over the news and on Facebook last week: another case of a young person who commits suicide because he'd been bullied his entire life... When is this going to end? How many more lives have to be taken? How much more blood does there have to be spilt? 

 

This is the message Tim left for his parents:

"Dear dad and mom,

all my life I've been ridiculed, tormented, bullied and excluded. You are great. I hope you are not mad.

Goodbye, Tim"

Tim was only 20 years old. Unfortunately, he's not a detached case. It seems to be an epidemic in Belgium and the Netherlands nowadays, and maybe it's even far more widespread than I actually thought. People that have been bullied and tormented for years don't see another option but to kill themselves, because they just can't take it anymore. They're dead-tired of all the humilliations and the verbal and physical aggression. It happens more and more often, and I'm asking myself, wasn't there something that could be done about it in order to avoid this tragic incident? Did it really have to go that far? What about the teachers that were involved? What about other people in Tim's class? And most importantly, what about the bullies themselves? Do they have any feeling of guilt? Or are they rather proud of their achievement? I can't imagine the latter, but I've never been in the shoes of the bully. However, I've been bullied too, although not my entire life, "just" a few years at secondary school. But apparently, it was enough to put me in a psychiatric hospital - to put it in a crude way. So it was actually kind of serious. And still today, I reproach the bullies for their behaviour and I still don't understand how one of them was capable of looking me straight in the eye two years ago when we had a reunion at school. Most of the people present there didn't dare to talk to me. Was it shame? Was it because they thought I'd be completely nuts? For all they knew was that in November 2000 I was sent to a psychiatric hospital for intensive treatment of "personal problems" and I never returned to that school. 

Look, I don't know what actually happened to Tim, but in my case it was mostly not really bullying. In the first and second year, however, it was. People bullied me because I got excellent grades, while they were not that bad either, so why should they take it out on me? They invented all kinds of nicknames that I won't reproduce here - it's just too painful to think about it again - but it was enough to break the already fragile equilibrium I had. Then, in the third and fourth year, I ended up in a more tolerant class where everybody wanted to get high grades, and that was such a relief to me. However, in the fifth class I ended up with the bullies again, and even with a few extra bullies that had never been in my class before, but that had a terrible reputation, even among the teachers. And already from day one they made it clear to me: I was inferior to them. They talked a lot behind my back, and I was extremely aware of that, and it affected me badly. They also kind of ignored me, as if I didn't exist. And if there's something I just don't support, it's being ignored or being treated like a stupid person. And that's exactly what happened there. They laughed behind my back, maybe because I couldn't afford clothes or shoes from a well-known, expensive brand like they did. Maybe because my parents weren't advocates or doctors, but humble workers. Maybe because I never dared to stand up for my rights. Or maybe because they knew I was extremely sensible and couldn't handle the moments in which they were even bullying the teachers. Most of the teachers hated and loathed our class. I remember very well that our mentor from the fifth year uttered his sincere condolences to our mentor of the sixth year at the beginning of that last year.

I think the bullies have no idea how they can destroy a person's life. I couldn't talk about it, but I did write some things down in my diary, although not that much. I couldn't cope with these feelings of humilliation and the exclusion. Then I knew I had to reach out for help, so I went to a teacher I trusted to talk about it. She brought me into contact with a kind of school psychologist who was responsible for people with this kind of problems at school. I felt quite ashamed of myself because of the fact that I needed the help of this man, so I didn't tell anyone. It was just our little secret. But somehow, one day, they, i.e. the bullies, found out, and the word spread in class that I was talking to a psychologist. Can you imagine their derision and hatred?! I can tell you, the moment they found out, they became even more icy towards me. They felt betrayed, and then the moment came when the school's director put the whole class in one room with the task to write down all the problems we experienced in class - anonymously - and then it happened that they agreed that it was all my fault and that something had to be done about me. In their eyes I had caused even more trouble than they already had, so I was the black sheep. From that moment on, even the people that had originally supported me more or less became icy towards me. It was all my fault that the teachers and the school's director had a grudge against our class, because I hadn't been able to keep my mouth shut. 

I somehow still feel guilty, I don't know why. And I'm still afraid of them. I seem to be very sensible to people's gazes towards me, to the way they behave when I'm in their midst. Even before I got admitted to a psychiatric hospital, I had these suicidal feelings. I felt that humilliated and ignored that I wanted to kill myself. I couldn't talk about it with anyone but the school's psychologist. My parents didn't approve of me talking to him, and it took a while before I told them about it. I think they are smarter than I want them to be. They just sensed that I wasn't feeling too well, but as I didn't talk much about school and what happened in class, they just couldn't know. But they felt the tension, and even at home, the mood became more and more tense. Of course it wasn't my parents' fault, and I have no hard feelings towards them, but they should have behaved differently when they found out that I'd gone to our GP to ask him to prescribe me antidepressants. 

In any case, I already had a pretty low selfesteem, and it got only worse because of the bullies. I have to admit though, that it's possible that I was already quite paranoid back then, because when I saw them whispering, laughing and talking in a suspicious way, I immediately concluded that they were talking and laughing about me. I actually got quite obsessed with my way of being: the clothes I wore, the things I said in class, my behaviour in class... I tried to talk to them, to share their interests, all this in order to form part of the club, but it was all in vain. I think they only made more fun of me because of my failing intentions to try to belong to them. Furthermore, we didn't share any interests. My interests at that time were Spanish and astronomy. I liked to study. And I was a Backstreet Boys-fan, a fact that they exploited extremely when it came to humilliate me.

Tim Ribberink is not a unique case, unfortunately. I also thought about killing myself back then, rather that than have to go back to that terrible school with her horrible fellow students every single day. Tim, I've been there, I know how it feels to be excluded, to be humilliated, to be ridiculed, but for some reason I'm still here, walking around on planet Earth and struggling every day in order to survive. It's a shame that no-one could convince you to stay a little longer in this world. I'm sure you'll be missed by family and friends. Unfortunately your death won't help to exterminate bullying. I do hope your bullies will feel this guilt and desperation that you once felt deep down in their hearts, and that they will from now on use your tragic death as a starting point to help to eradicate bullying from school (and work, for that matter). 

    

As for me, I've forgiven my bullies. I can't forget what they did to me, but I can forgive them and try to see it as their problem, because in fact, they should have to feel ashamed, not me. I don't know what they thought about me the moment I got admitted to a psychiatric hospital, but I don't expect them to have felt guilty or desperate. They were just too proud and stubborn for that. Time can heal the wounds people have left in your heart. Or rather: God can heal the pain in your heart caused by other people. And yes, He has done so...