Pink dragon

No, this post is not about a fancy or kinky equivalent of the movie "Red dragon", nor is it about anything that has to do with dungeons and dragons, no. This post has in fact more to do with the pink dragon in the TV series Dora, loved by the youngest kids of this generation. I hear you all think: "Has she gone insane?" And I can tell and reassure you: Not more than the usual kind of craziness ;)

This post is all about how to cope with some kind of intimidation. You see, I'm a little bit afraid and intimidated by my Sensei. "What's a Sensei?" I hear you ask. As you probably know by now, I've taken up karate, and when you go to a training, you call your teacher "Sensei". Well, I'm pretty afraid and intimidated by one of our Senseis. However, I'm not too afraid in the sense that I'm so taken aback that I cease going to training. No, it's just that I don't feel comfortable when she is teaching or when she's giving a remark or even just when she's the only one around. She's a very severe and tough teacher, nevertheless she's very, very good and thorough. So it's all very complicated. Last week for example, she was teaching, and I got a positive remark - which was the first positive remark ever. Can you imagine I was completely bowled over and slightly confused? So I was doing something very well, and immediately after the remark, I made countless mistakes. 

So I talked about our Sensei with my psychiatric nurse. I didn't know how to cope with this growing feeling of uneasiness. She asked me if and how I could describe her with a picture of an animal. I definitely could: a roaring dragon. That was step 1. The next step was a little bit more difficult: I had to think of a replacing image which could make it easier for me to approach her. You see, the story isn't complete yet. We - as in Sensei and I - have a history. When I appraoched the club, I was still admitted to the psychiatric clinic and I felt obliged to tell this to the Sensei. She immediately told me there was actually no place for psychiatric patients in the club. I asked why, because I thought that was quite harsh to say, and she said there had been some bad experiences with a borderliner, and she asked me right away if I was a borderliner. I endorsed. What else could I do? I always like to be straight, no matter what. So she sent me to another Sensei. I talked to the other Sensei, who accepted me after having talked with me and having experienced that Borderline and Borderline can be two completely different things. However, I think that the other Sensei still hasn't found peace. I'm not going into any detail here about what had happened with the borderliner earlier in the club, but I can tell you, it was a pretty ugly story, one that doesn't resemble my kind of behaviour in any way. However, we got off on the wrong foot, and I think that's what's going on here.

Anyway, I couldn't answer the question of my psychiatric nurse, I couldn't think of anything else. So she came up with a suggestion. She has a three-year-old daughter, who adores Dora, and in one of Dora's stories there appears a pink dragon. I had to laugh right away, because although I haven't seen the story with Dora and the pink dragon, I had an image of a pink dragon in my mind, this one in fact:

So we were talking about pink dragons, and if I could see my Sensei as a pink dragon instead of as a roaring dragon, spitting fire. I actually could, so it became even a little bit funny. Not that I don't have respect for my Sensei, to the contrary, I feel very respectful towards her, but it's just the way you look at somebody. If I keep on being afraid of her, it won't get any better. It's maybe kind of normal that I feel intimidated by her, because she has the black belt and I'm only a beginner, wearing the white belt and making many mistakes. However, I have to try to think that one day, she was also wearing the white belt. And I can feel this respect I feel, but why should I feel fear? She's also just a normal human being, and if I imagine her being this cute, pink dragon from above instead of the roaring dragon, maybe I can normalise the relationship. I feel the same kind of respect, but without the fear, towards the other Sensei. Maybe that's because we've met in an informal occasion, I don't know. In any case, I think this kind of image has helped me to see her more as a human being who can be soft and friendly and all that too. It's just up to me. If I keep up avoiding her, or being afraid of her, she will definitely notice this, and then it's over. Then she will never give me a chance. So, Debz, what's it gonna be??


 

...or how my meds spoil my social life

9.30 AM. 1.00 PM. 6.00 PM. 9.00 PM. 10.15 PM. Does it ring a bell? Probably not. It does for me, however, because those are the exact times at which I have to take my meds. At those times of the day, my indispensable mobile phone starts buzzing and making a truly relaxing sound, as if I were going to enjoy a really good moment of my not so busy day. However, nothing of that makes sense, because I have to take my meds, which is becoming more and more difficult and day by day, I hate those moments more and more. Why? Well, that's in fact quite simple. I've noticed that my meds are spoiling my social life. I've noticed that, when I don't take them, or rather, take them after a social activity - which is really stupid actually, because then, the day after, I'm dead tired because I took them way too late, so they work through longer the following day - I can function somehow in a "normal" way.

Take this example: last Saturday. I had taken the 9 PM meds at 9.15 PM, after a special service at the church in Delft. These meds are quite strong, you know. They contain among others the antipsychotic Seroquel, which affects my way of speaking. When I speak after taking it, it seems as if I'm slightly drunk sometimes, and when I want to say something, I somehow speed up way too much. I can't help it, it just happens. I usually speak quite rapidly already, it's in my nature, but when I've taken my meds, it's even worse. Sometimes it's so bad that I stumble over my own words and start stammering. So after the service, we went to McDonald's with a group. I was chatting with a few girls and I noticed that it was already happening. What's even worse was that I'd planned to go to the Leiden observatory after we got back to Leiden, because I'd arranged with a few guys to observe the spring sky. So I went there at about 10.30 PM, and the meds were already doing their abominable job. So that evening it happened more than once that people had to ask me once again what I'd said. I felt ashamed, but it just happened. I was stumbling and stammering almost the entire evening... I felt so stupid...

Take another example: yesterday evening. After karate training, someone announced that it was her birthday and she asked if we wanted to go for a drink with her in order to celebrate. Firstly I decided not to go, because - yes, you might have guessed it already - I didn't have my pills with me, and it was already 9.15 PM. However, I was in a good mood, and I thought that one drink wouldn't hurt. So I went with the ladies. I noticed that I could have a normal conversation, completely different from the conversations I had on Saturday with my buddies from the Leiden observatory. However, I got home at 11.20 PM and took my pills at about that time. I can still feel the side effects, and it's 6.20 PM THE NEXT DAY, for Christ's sake! So that was actually a pretty bad idea, because I've been tired all day. On the other hand, I was able to have normal conversations, without the feeling of dizziness in my head, without the feeling of drunkenness, without those freaking side effects. Was it worth the price? I'm not able to judge well, I'm sorry.

*SIGH* *another SIGH* Why? Well, my psychiatrist has issues with my pills. He is reluctant to prescribe one of the meds I'm taking. The biggest and most serious consequence is that I might lose him. He might send me away and assign me to another psychiatrist, one who is not so reluctant to prescribe the meds I'm taking. I have to admit that I'm taking a lot, but I was quite in peace with that... until now. I was in peace with that, because I thought it was keeping me stable. And that's all I need, right? I have to be stable, I can't afford another crisis. But hell, now my psychiatrist is having issues... and what can I do? I'm so afraid that, if I lose my psychiatrist, I'll also lose my psychiatric nurse. And she's so damned good, I don't want to risk that happening. I'd rather delete that pill from my list than lose her or even my psychiatrist!

It would be so nice to know that those pills were just a cure prescribed by my physician for a couple of days, a couple of weeks at the most. But this is never going to end, at least, that's how it feels and what I think. I have Borderline, I don't have the flu or a cold. You know, I'd like to quit with all the meds I'm taking at this moment. I'd like to throw them all away in the garbage. I don't know what the reaction of my psychiatrist would be if he knew this, but maybe this announcement would shake him awake. No, I don't want to threaten him, but I want to let him know what the consequences of his rebelliousness are. Because that's what it is: he's a rebel. Now that I'm back from the clinic, I have more meds, and he feels uncomfortable with the fact that he has to prescribe this amount of medication. Especially one of the meds makes him feel really uncomfortable. But hey, what's his problem? It works well, I feel better. So what's this fuss all about?! 

I know I'm thinking in black and white again: quit with all the medication I have or continue with this huge amount of meds I'm taking. However, I have good reasons for this. Every single time that we have tried diminishing the medication, it went awfully wrong. And that wasn't funny, not a single bit. 

I'm off to bed now. I feel loneley and desperate. My meds are destroying and suppressing the real Debz. My meds are spoiling my social life. And what am I doing against it? Nothing, right. Dot. 

Are you afraid to die?

It's a question my Blue friend asked his followers on his blog and a question I've been toying with for the last couple of weeks. "How close can two minds be?" I asked my Blue friend on his blog, because he wrote about the same topic I've wanted to write about for weeks. In fact, he was the first human being who told me he was afraid to die. Never before in my life had someone told me that (s)he was afraid to die. I'd been confronted with death many times before in my life. Not only in my family, but also among friends. Suicides, especially, but also one case of cancer. And when I was talking with my Blue friend about death, I told him honestly that I wasn't afraid to die. What's more, I wanted to die at that moment, I wanted it so badly! I was suicidal back then, oh yes.

Somehow, my Blue friend made me look at life and death more closely and more carefully. I thought about it more intensely, but back then, I still wasn't afraid to die. I was afraid of death, but in another sense. I was afraid that other people around me would die first, and that I would be left all alone. I was/am especially afraid that my parents would/will die one day - which is a fact - and that I'll be left all alone. I don't have a boyfriend, and I'm not planning to go back on the promise I made myself: no more suffering, so no more boyfriends, no marriage, no children. Eventually, I will be all alone. And that's something I can't bear. 

Last year, when my granny was so ill, I just couldn't believe she would die. And she didn't. However, I can guarantee that almost the entire family predicted her death. I just couldn't. Maybe I was stubborn. Or maybe it was my irrevocable faith in our Lord. Whatever it was that withheld me from believing she would die, it worked. She survived three necessary emergency operations and I believe her when she tells - albeit laughing - that there was someone over there who told her to go back, that they didn't want her up there. She's so strong, and I'm so proud that she's my granny!

Anyway, let's get back to business. Am I afraid to die? I wasn't, but things have changed slightly since I wrote that post in which I realised we only live once. That's when things started to change. Also, I'm getting older. I can't believe I'm 31 already, but it's the naked truth. I see my nieces grow up, and it goes terribly fast. The oldest one is almost 10! What if I died? I would no longer see them grow up. I would miss my parents, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, cousins, my nieces. So I think I don't want to die anymore - which seems quite good and healthy to me - but at the same time I can't bear the thought that this also means that I will have to be strong when all the others around me die and I will be... yes, all alone. For this thing is for sure: if everyone dies when his/her time has come - I mean, if everyone goes in the order of age - then I will have to say goodbye to my grandparents first, then a couple of aunts and uncles, then my parents, then more aunts and uncles, then my sister and a few cousins. At my father's side, I'm nearly the youngest. At my mother's side, I'm the third grandchild out of 10. However, every single one of them on both sides is settled: they all have boyfriends and girlfriends, I'm the only one left single. I don't really mind, but I can imagine that in my old age, I will. 

I'll have to make up my mind one day. However, it's not easy. If I had a family of my own, I'd have something to live for. Now, there's "only" Timo, which has resulted to be enough when I look back at my latest admission to the psychiatric clinic here in Leiden. Timo turned out to be sufficient for me when it came to wanting to fight to go back home. But Timo doesn't have eternal life. Between now and seven years - give or take a few - he'll certainly be gone, and... Can I tell you a secret? After Chico died I thought I'd never have that kind of budgy anymore. I mean, he was always happy, always playing around, always talkative and so intelligent. And then came Timo. Timo broke all the records. He's spent a year with me so far, and he's even - I hardly dare to say it - better than his beloved brother. He's able to utter 23 words and sentences whilst only having spent one year with me. It's a miracle God has blessed me with. I can hardly believe it! He's even more of a "playboy" than his beloved brother. You should see him now... Well, I can try to make a movie :)

Do you see what I mean? And that's inside his cage! Outside, he's even more of a "playboy"! He's so happy that he can sometimes make my mood turn upside down when I'm feeling bad. He's so special to me, I can't imagine life without him, but one day, he'll also be gone. Hopefully, that day is still far away, and we can move out of the Pelikaanhof together and move into our new apartment where he'll even have more space to fly as a free bird. 

Still, the question remains. Afraid to die or not? I'm certainly afraid to die a painful death. That's in fact always been the case. I'm always afraid when I'm walking alone in the dark in the city that someone will rape me or stab me to death or shoot me. I don't want to die like that! Also, I'm afraid to die of cancer. It's not really a common illness in our family, but still... with Debz, you never know. Also, I'm afraid that, if I don't die young - something I've been planning to do for some years right now - I'll have dementia or Alzheimer's disease when I'm older, illnesses that ARE common in our family. I've seen and I see it happen to my loved ones, and I feel helpless. There's nothing you can do. And with this cocktail of meds I'm taking, it may well be that I attract Alzheimer's disease at a young age. And if there's something I don't want, it's certainly that: not even recognizing the people you love, not even realizing who you are and what you're doing on this planet Earth. THAT's what I'm afraid of, my Blue friend. Not of dying. Death will only bring me to Heaven, to my Father. It's just the way how you get there. You see, already right now I have these moments in which I easily forget where I've put my stuff or what I've done a couple of hours ago, and I know everybody has these moments, but it happens more and more often. It may well be a side effect of the meds, but... you hear of those cases of Alzheimer's disease at the age of forty, and that makes me scared to death! I'm 31, you know, and I'm getting closer and closer to the age of 40. 

So, to wrap it up a little bit, I might be afraid to die, but this has to do with the way in which I'll die. If I could choose how I'd die, then I'm not afraid. I'd be afraid if the cause would be cancer, if I'd be murdered, or if I'd drown or suffocate to death. I AM afraid to attract such an irrevocable disease such as Alzheimer's. Cancer is also high on the NOT-to-attract list. In the meantime, I think I'll just try to enjoy my life. There's still so much to do, but worries cloud my mind. Worries about finding a job, worries about how to pay the bills once I move out of my student's room and move into my apartment. Worries about my grandparent's health, about my parents getting older, about the amount of meds I'm taking and about myself being on the border of mental instability once again. It's a lot to take in, I know, but in my head there's a lot going on. Please, if possible, pray for me. I can surely use it to be in someone's thoughts and prayers. And, my dear Blue friend, if you pass by and you read this, I can tell you this: I'm still not afraid to die, but it's not like back then anymore. I'm not suicidal anymore (praise the Lord!), but if I could choose, I'd die relatively young, before all the pains and aches begin, and especially, before such illnesses such as dementia or Alzheimer's can take over. 

And now I'm off to McDonald's. Life is short, and I surely can use an Iced Frappé :)