RIP, multi-talented Max...

Dear Max, yesterday evening, bad news reached me via Facebook. I still can't believe it. Why, Max, why did you decide that it has been enough? Enough fighting against the voices in your head. Enough struggling with your everlasting moodswings. Enough coping with your eating disorder... I do try to understand it, but Max, you're such an incredibly intelligent, multi-talented person. You are able to make people smile and to surprise each and everyone time and time again with your guitar play and you're wonderful, warm voice when you sing.  

I do try to cope with your final decision. The dark times before X-mas often seem to be a reason for the deepest feelings of depression and loneliness to flourish for many people. Last year was no exception:  three of our mutual friends committed suicide during this dark period. It was a tough time, I think you still remember. Still, it hurt like hell. And look now, one year later, you took the same step. You took your one-way ticket to heaven. And you chose the short way. You probably couldn't deal with it anymore. I know you suffered. I know you struggled. But I always hoped that you wouldn't give up like Marie-Claire, Daphne and Jan did. One year later, I can still imagine how they looked like when they smiled, when they were up to no good, whey they were behaving against the rules at the clinic  Those were probably the most beautiful moments, by the way ;) And now, I'll have to add other moments to those, YOUR moments, OUR moments... 

Max, I do hope you find the route to happiness. You've fought so hard, and I won't say that you lost this battle... I don't know if this is about winning or losing. Did you give up? I wouldn't say that either. It's hard to put words in a sentence that would honour you. I can only tell you that I'm extremely sad. Your loss leaves a big gap in the lives of your fellow CIB-buddies, including me. Remember you wrote such beautiful and kind words on the placemat for my goodbye gift? I will cherish that placemat above all the other things you provided me with that day. For one thing is sure: two people who wrote a message on that placemat are no longer among us... I know we've lived in a very fragile group with people who have complicated illnesses, and maybe I shouldn't be that surprised that some of the people of that group choose to die. Still, I'll never get used to it, never. 

Dear Max, sweetheart, find peace. Be happy. Look down on us and be our guardian angel. You are and you will be missed severely. You have no idea of the grief I'm experiencing right now. You'll be in my heart... 

Black dog

It's been a while, but the Black Dog inside of me is awake again, after all this time. How is that even possible? Everybody has a Black Dog, even you, my dearest reader, don't you try to deny it! But most of us don't experience their Black Dog, because he might be asleep. And to be honest, the Black Dog inside of me has been asleep for a long, long time. What about this Black Dog? It has a name, oh yes, it has. His name is "depression". And unfortunately it's back again.

I've been feeling alone and worthless again for a couple of weeks now. Some things aren't going too well. And of course, then we have this whole autumn/winter thing. I don't really like it when the days are getting shorter and colder, and when the leaves are falling from the trees, how beautiful the colours of the leaves may seem. It gives me an utterly sad feeling. Everything seems to be dying. And here I am, in my beautiful apartment, but all alone and grieving a little bit. See, one of our family's friends is very ill. And then I'm talking about terminal cancer. The prospects aren't good. It hurts to have to see how life's slipping away out of someone. It's hard to deal with the fact that death always wins, no matter what we try, no matter how many prayers we say. In the end, death wins the game. 

My black dog is getting bigger and stronger every day. I have difficulties to motivate myself to do something. As I wrote, I'm feeling alone and worthless again. Depression is taking over and I'm feeling so sad, nothing seems to please me anymore. I try to divert myself, by listening to music, by watching episodes of Game of Thrones or by dragging myself to my karate lessons, but nothing seems to help to get a better feeling. I do realise it's just the Black Dog, but still, it's tough. Last Friday, I cleaned the house, which I should consider a small miracle. However, I didn't get out of the house until the day after that. I notice that I'm not into leaving the house a lot, and if I do, it doesn't help to defeat the Black Dog. 

What else does the Black Dog do? Well, first of all, it takes away my self-esteem, my self-confidence. I feel so unsure about myself. This doesn't help when I go to my karate lessons. On the contrary, I'm so insecure and I don't want to make mistakes that I even doubt whether to go to the training or not. Cause if I don't go, I can't make any mistakes. If I could, I would lie in bed all day, cause sleeping helps. It means I don't have to think about life and death, I don't have to think about anything anymore. Because of the presence of the Black Dog, I feel empty and lonely. I don't want to get in touch with my friends, because I don't want them to see the person I am when the Black Dog gets loose. It may sound a little awkward, which it actually is. Maybe it's even contradictory. I observe that this is my coping strategy: when I feel sad and depressed, I try to solve it on my own. But then, I always fail, and end up feeling worse. However, I don't want to bother my friends, I want to be in touch with them when I'm all right, that's so much more fun!

There's one thing that has to be clear, though: in this battle between me and my Black Dog, he won't win the game! I will never, ever give up! I'm not that person anymore. In the end, I'll win, no matter how much time it'll take. I'm a fighter, I never give up. The Black Dog will some day be small again. And eventually, he'll go back to sleep. See, the clue is to not let him grow too big, to keep control of him. And yes, maybe he's in control now, but not forever. I keep on going to my karate lessons, with a little help from a friend, that is. I get out of bed every morning, albeit a little late. I see my therapist every week and we discuss the topics that keep me busy. Today he reassured me by telling that the topics we tackle are not even that weird but actually quite normal, that they don't show me my "psychiatric" side but rather that they show that I'm entirely human, and that I'm dealing with very normal, human things in life. Yes, it seems that I'm struggling with topics every teenager/adolescent gets confronted with. I might be experiencing puberty now, something I skipped when I was 16. Could it be? 

To be continued... 

It's been...

... a year! Or: 52 weeks, 366 (!) days (yes, 2016 was a leap year), 8784 hours, 527.040 minutes, or 31.622.400 seconds, as you wish. It's been a year since I left the Centre for Specialised Treatment - CIB (Centrum Intensieve Behandeling) - in The Hague. And I haven't regretted it for a second! Actually, I thought I'd have to celebrate this milestone!

Yes, it was a rough year, but I've survived. This is the first time ever, since my psychological problems started, that it's been a year:

- without psychosis

- without suicidal thoughts

- without having to be admitted to a clinic, not even for one night

- without a crisis that got out of hand

- without a suicide attempt (in particular by taking an overdose)

I could consider myself blessed. A year ago I would never have acknowledged that I would be where I am right now: stable in the most basic sense of the word, in my own apartment, having published two books and now even looking for a job to fill in the gaps that can't be filled with the few private lessons I'm teaching at the moment. Furthermore, being an active member of the Leiden observatory as well as of Daidokan Karate club gives me the feeling I belong to society in some way. I mean, I no longer feel a burden for society, which I did when I was admitted. I had a strong feeling of inferiority and it was just as if I was an expensive member of society. I didn't participate, I was nobody, nothing... Right now, I'm getting rid of that inferiority complex. 

October 5th, 2015, marked the end of a period in which I'd had to fight for my life, quite literally in fact. It was a difficult period in my life, if not the most difficult. Confrontation with my most extreme emotions, my deepest fears, also with the complex person that I am. It wasn't easy, but I eventually obtained the greatest good: freedom! They discharged me and trusted that I'd find my way back in society. And guess what,  I managed to live up to their expectations! Soon after I was back home, I started looking for a place to live in because, let's face it, I couldn't keep on living in a student's flat in a 3-by-4 room. And look at that, almost 14 years after coming to Leiden and moving into the Pelikaanhof, I finally found my own space! I'm still in treatment, but next to that I'm doing things that I really like. I'm teaching Spanish and Dutch as a second language to Portuguese native speakers. Also, I'm a volunteer at the Leiden observatory and I participate in a council from and for clients from the psychiatric clinic here in Leiden. Furthermore, I'm practicing karate, something I'd been dreaming of since I was eight. So it seems as if I'm doing great.

People aren't economical with their compliments, which I do appreciate. They see what they see, and that's kind of the truth: things are going well. I've finally found my way in life! I'm happy and it seems as if - finally - the odds are in my favour. Especially when I received the keys of my apartment did I realise that maybe times are finally changing. All those years of bad luck... or maybe it isn't a matter of good or bad luck, I don't know. And I know that, when things are going well with Debz, then things are going okay with my mom too. So all these things mean that my mom is doing great as well, which gives me joy. 

And yes, you felt it coming, right. There is a BUT. Of course there were difficult moments during the past year. I only managed to put on a mask in front of people then, in order to hide it from the outside. You see, this life remains a struggle. People are too naive when they truly believe "everything" is all right. My mind is sometimes clouded with inferiority thoughts, sometimes I feel worth less than nothing. The only difference is that, now, I somehow know how to deal with these thoughts. No week passes by that, during my session with my psychologist, I have to cry because I feel miserable. Sometimes I feel hopeless. More than once a week I feel so lonely that I get sad and I sometimes do ask myself why I keep on going. But then, eventually, I get up and start the day, although it's maybe late already and although I'm not really in the mood. Eventually I feel better, and go to my appointments. I teach. I go to karate. I study in order to keep my brain working. And no, it's not always easy. But hey, look where I come from! Finally I can truly say that I am proud. I've got so far already, but that doesn't mean it's going to get easy from now on. Quite the contrary, I'd say. Every day I set a new record. Wauw! In fact, I should celebrate every day, but maybe that would become boring after a while. Let's just celebrate this day, today. Quite a milestone it is! 

This has been written by a truly proud and happy Debz :)