Stress sucks

Stress, a six-letter word, seemingly simple and innocent, yet bringing along many precautions: S-T-R-E-S-S, only six letters. There’s a lot that can be said and taught about stress, but one thing’s for sure: it wears me down. It stresses me down, so to speak. That’s right. In my personal life, I experience stress on a daily basis. It’s like the sword of Damocles, hanging there above my head, threatening, menacing. However, if you don’t experience stress on a regular basis, you’re considered not to be a human being. Or do animals also experience something like stress? So where is that balance point? Not too much stress, not too little. I can feel stress in my belly, boiling there until it reaches its boiling point. It starts out innocently, as a spark in my stomach, but any spark can start a fire, isn’t that right? It doesn’t always have to end in an outrageous fire, but still, chances of loads of damage can’t be discarded.
 

Stress doesn’t only have to be detectable through ways of your own feeling. There are other ways that you are probably not aware of. For example, other people around you can become irritated by your irritable behaviour because you are treating them badly or in such a way that you lose every sense of respect for them, putting yourself in the middle of the universe, where you – obviously – not are and where you probably won’t ever belong. Mind the humility. However, your stress doesn’t possibly have to be the stress of your acquaintances, if you know what I mean. Make sure that you keep your stress your own problem, and not theirs. Still, there is a way out of this situation. If you really want to share your stress and if you really need someone to help you cope with your stress levels, take this good and free advice of mine: go and see a psychiatrist. A good one, I mean, not just any one you choose randomly or one that randomly chooses you. Although sometimes you don’t have any spark of choice, don’t get me wrong. Another good and free advice of mine? You can easily check if the psychiatrist of your own choice – and thus the one you will share your stress with – is a good one by asking him or her a few seemingly ridiculous questions. If (s)he already makes a strange face when you mention the fact that you want to ask some questions before starting the first session – and thus when (s)he wants to starts asking questions him/herself, which is part of the job - forget about him/her and move on to the next one. If (s)he seems to be amused by your sly opening, there might be lying ahead a bright future between you and him/her when it comes to a psychiatric treatment. Ask him/her some personal questions about his/her hobbies, about his/her pets, about the car that (s)he drives. If (s)he doesn’t answer or answers these questions with a bewildered glare in his/her eyes, move on to the next one without any doubt. If (s)he keeps answering in an amused way however, you are probably very close to having found yourself the ultimate psychiatrist, one I can clearly recommend to you.
  

Back to stress, then. I usually seem to stress out when people put pressure on me or when there is a task with a time limit at hand I have to fulfill. As for that, I’m sure I’m not unique. However, take this recent example of mine which encompasses it all. I’ve been admitted to a psychiatric clinic for the past eight months now, which is a long time, fair enough. I’ve learnt a lot already, and maybe that’s an understatement. I’ve changed a lot, and that certainly is an understatement. I’ve been working physically and mentally to become the person I am right now. I still have a long way to go, so it’s not really possible to say when I’ll be leaving the clinic. I’m ambivalent in that respect. I wish I were out already on the one hand, but on the other hand, I still have so many things to learn in essence, and I want to leave this place with the maximum of what can be learnt in my mental backpack. I want to gain as much profit as possible from the kind of psychiatric treatment they offer in this clinic. Sometimes it’s good to be greedy. And then there comes the stress factor, lurking from the shadows. My psychologist has given me the opportunity to determine when I’m going to leave this clinic. Me, myself and I, figure that. I still can’t believe it, and that’s the reason why stress comes around. It could be worse, a lot worse, I do realise that, and that’s the reason why stress comes around the corner. Of course, pressure is a factor that is even worse if put in front of me choosing my resignation date or them – the entire team who has earned the five letters P-S-Y-C-H in front of their name: psychiatrist, psychologist, psychiatric nurse. And I was experiencing pressure when I was thinking about the exact resignation date. I was so anxious because I was expecting to hear that fearful date every single session with my psychologist. Twice a week, that is. I was preoccupied for the full 100%. And a few weeks ago, they told me I could determine my resignation date on my own. Sounds scary, doesn’t it? Now that the pressure has become a lot less, there comes stress around the corner. When do I want to leave? A dilemma, that is. But you figured that out already, didn’t you? As in: Tomorrow? Next month? When I’m ready? Definitely when I’m ready. But when am I ready? Who else than me, myself and I can pinpoint that exact date? And yes, that process goes gradually. And yes, there will always be ups and downs, as there will always be therapy and those damned pills. But can I count on my own perception? All these questions overtake my stress level. Yes, there we go again: stress. How can I possibly cope with my stress level if I don’t have a clue how it works and where to begin? I can feel it rising in my body, from my toes to the top of my head. That’s all I can feel. How do people deal with stress? And what’s the sense of stress? Because, if everything in life has a purpose, then what’s the sense of stress? Honestly, I can’t possibly think about it in a positive sense. Maybe stress can be a kind of motivation to stimulate you to persevere even in the most stressful situations. Hey, wait a minute, did I observe a paradox there? Stress that helps you when you’re stressed? It can’t possibly be true. Somehow, however, there seems to be an advantage. Some people can only work under pressure/stress. Then they’re at their best and can fabricate the most horrifically genial essays. I’m obviously not one of those people. I need time, otherwise, stress will take it all over and will spoil the good result I could have reached in other circumstances. Now obviously in my case, stress isn’t the answer to stress or stressful situations or circumstances. I can name a few other cases in which stress doesn’t help you. Even worse and completely the opposite: stress brings on bad repercussions. What do you think about people who have to hurry – read: who are living with too much stress at work and/or at home – and who cause a fatal accident? Or else and even worse: people who are living under so much pressure that they aren’t able anymore to make a distinction between right and wrong and commit a crime or commit suicide, just because there was too much stress: family life as in being a good mom or dad, an exigent job, piles of homework, you name it. 

“Stress sucks” was the title I couldn’t invent myself. One of the nurses of the clinic I reside for the moment suggested the title with a lot of humour. Well, it’s probably a good summary of what most people think, exactly because they experience stress on a daily basis and can’t handle it in an adequate way – count myself in. They don’t consider the weight of stress, which I actually do. Don’t underestimate the power of stress! Ask any retired man or woman about stress and they will probably tell you stories about the good old times when they were still working hard and when they could still cope with stress – that is, if stress existed at all - not like now, when employees go from burn-out to burn-out because they are not tough enough to exercise their position at work. 

Stress is one of the most lethal diseases of the 21^st century, let’s face it. What we can do about it, however, remains in the twilight zone of science. You cannot possibly find one – or more, for that matter – cure or wonder pills which can solve the stress problem. It’s all about your own strength. In what kind of family were you born? How did you grow up? What difficulties did you encounter while growing up? Every person goes through different phases in life and every person chooses his own way in every phase, sometimes out of force, sometimes voluntarily. Stress hasn’t brought me but exhaustion and unhappiness. I don’t seem to benefit from stress, but of course, every person brings on a different case.

If stress really sucks, that’s up to you to decide. In my case, it’s something that normally spoils my results, just because I give it too much importance and too much space. I wish it were different, but these are the raw facts, at least, when it boils down to me.

Going back to university

Or so it feels... I know I've been out of sight for quite a long time, but here I am, back again, rising up out of the ashes like a phoenix. I'm still admitted to the psychiatric clinic in the Hague, but the time will come that I'll be able to tell you that I'll be dismissed between now and a couple of weeks/months, give or take a few. I'm doing the best I can, working hard in the different therapies. I even convinced the team of nurses to go running with me three times a week! Ha, who is het one enjoying this kind of therapy the most: me, the lousy patient, or them, the well-paid nurses who can go for a run during their working hours?

This clinic is called (in English) the "Centre for Intensive Treatment". However, the treatment wasn't so "intensive" and people got themselves complaining. Complaining about nearly everything: the food, the nurses, the therapies that were not intensive enough... you name it. So the staff took this quite literally when it came to the therapies and decided to make the programme more intensive. It wasn't me! The result is a folder with all kinds of schemes and pages to fill in about different aspects of our therapies. I already get tired by only looking at the pages in the folder! I mean, there seems to be no time left for leisure activities or to receive visitors, nor for taking some time to rest during the day.

It feels like yesterday that I started university. Why? Well, tomorrow we get this new therapy programme. Intensive, yes it is, oh yes sir! On the verge of going to university for the first day, I felt nearly as nervous as I'm feeling right now. See, it's not just some programme, no. We can receive points for good behaviour and something that we're not allowed to call punishment for bad behaviour. Maybe this sounds somehow as kindergarten, but as I can't remember anything from kindergarten and as this feeling I'm experiencing right now is leaning against a wall of emotions of fear and incertainty, I'm completely into this feeling of going to university for the first time. 

Folder: check. Pencils: check. To do list: check. I think I'm ready to go. Only thing is that the entire ward will be woken at 7.15 AM, while at first that was 8.15. Auch, that will hurt for most of us, myself included. That's exactly the reason why I'll finish this post and head to bed. Sleep tight, my blogger friends!

 

Don't underestimate the power of spoken words!

My dear blogger- and other friends, if you didn't already know, words can hurt you till you are completely beaten up, they can even kill you metaphorically, especially when they come from people you never expected it from. Last Monday, the court visited the psychiatric hospital I'm still admitted to. What happened said there, which words the so-called experts spoke there, they hurt me right in the spot, in the middle of my heart. 

The judge was kind of sympathetic. I recognized him from one of the earlier court hearings, and back then he was quite sympathetic. However, the head therapist and her collleageus kind of had prepared this hearing very well, while I only referred to my lawyer. The people from the clinic were inceredibly while I couldn;t even find the words to defend myself, so I rest my case. I couldn't find the words to overrule the case, so the verdict was exremely negative for me: a prolongation for a year to begin with. Are these guys nuts? I just barely survived an RM that lasted "only" four monts, the majority of which I spent on the outside of the hospital. However, this time the judge was'n't so lenient... Apart from this, he listened nearly only to the words of the head therapist and  took all my hope away: she  - the head terapist supposed that the entire treatment would take 5 or 6 years, but - fortunately - I would'nt have to spend all those years on the inside. It's possible to stay at horme with an RM, as long as you behave. If you don't, you'll be back behind bars, a.s.a.p., so to say.

Back to the topic. Words can stab you in the back. Not only in this kind of situations, but also in daily, casual topics. For example, when I graduated cum laude in 2013, my sister, my own blood, only had one word for me: "Finally" No congratuations, nothing like that, just that one bloody mess of a word. Not even a post card or a text message, no, just a faceback message. I was disappointed, and that's the least I can say. If you're a loyal reader of this blog, you'll already know that my sister don't have a good or nice relationschip, but that doesn't mean that she should take on this attitude, does it? Anyway, I don't belong to her circle of people, which means that I'm not wealthy, or an owner of a proper enterprise nor am I having lots of money. So I don't fit in the pattern...

However, I know that all these words out of hate have their origin in jealousy. Still, it hurts, especially when it comes from peope close The funny thing is, what does I have that other people don't have? I live in a student house. I don't have lots of money. I don't have a job, nor a house, nor a car. Only at university did I get a Cum Laude degree. And... not to forget: I've been in an d out of psychiatric hospitals for the last 14 and a half years. Now, if that isn't something to be proud of - didn't she say cynically. By the way, often, people utter this kind of expressions in an easy way, without thinking about the consequences. Here at the psychiatric clinic, a nures hurt me with such an utterance: "Get away, you retarded fool!" Those aren't words you expect from a psychiatric nurse, and they hurt me so much.Over and over again...  

I can't deal with these kinds of situations as you might have spotted. However, I get confronted with them day by dayl I'm depressed. I don''t know what to do. I feel lonley, I don't know what to do. I think I'm going to take some meds (prescribed, don't worry) and get back to bed. What else should I do?  

(Excuse me,) what did you say?

I'm hearing this sentence over and over again, every single day of every single week. It all started a couple of weeks  ago, a little bit over a month ago I guess, that I noticed I could hardly speak normally. A lot of saliva came free while speaking and I couldn't articulate well anymore. Right now, when I speak, it is as if I'm drunk, which, of course, I'm not, with the amount of pills I'm taking. And look what I'm talking about, the meds. There lies the origin of the problem. It are the meds that make me talk as if I'm drunk and that make me stammer. 

It's almost three months since I've been here, at this closed ward of a psychiatric hospital and one thing is for sure: when I came here, I didn't have these speaking and articulating issues. Sometimes, the saliva leaves my mouth even while I'm awake and without speaking, because it's mostly during the night that I have these problems or when I take a nap during the day. When I wake up, my pillow is almost entirely wet where my head has laid all night. However, during the day, in plain sight, I feel really embarassed and ashamed. As if I were a toddler learning how to speak properly concerning the way of speaking or an old drunk in the way of articulating. It hurts my feelings and my self-esteem. When I'm in a shop, they don't understand me and have to ask at least two times what it is I want. I see the impatience in their eyes, I see their boredom. They don't know how to handle someone who speaks like this. They've probably condemned me to the ranks of scum anyway.

It's just, I can't do anything that I can help to diminish the side-effects. Sometimes, it's just as if the side-effects are more prominent than the positive effects. So what should I do: keep taking the freaking meds or quit with it all?

Anyway, I'm still here against my will. The finishing date of my RM (judicial authorization) is approaching, but the psychiatrist has asked for a re-evaluation. The second opinion of an objective psychiatrist obtained the same result: affirmative. However, it's the judge who decides. If I can convince him/her that it's not necessary for me to be in this hospital, then I can go home. However, it will be tough, because I'm not so strong verbally and not in the least because a lot has happened. Maybe I can write him/her a letter, just like I did the last time which gave me a better verdict than I'd ever'd hoped for: only 4 months instead of 6.

Still, we don't know when the judge will come, only one day before the meeting will we know. I'm nervous already, although it can be tomorrow so to speak, but it can also be between now and three weeks. Also, the length of the RM can vary between 6 months and a year, but the fact that I've been in and out of psychiatric hospitals and because they - psychiatrist, psychologists and the rest of the staff - see some progress, seem to turn out negative for me. I'm afraid I'll get that extra time on the inside. 

It hurts to be so lonely, so far away from friens and - especially - family. The problem with an RM is that you're in principle not allowed to travel abroad. And if they're very severe, travelling from the Netherlands to Belgium would be a crime. Just hoping not to get caught when I'm on the train, because on top of all that, my ID has expired. Still a lot to do before I'm able to go to Belgium alone by train, though... wish me luck!