Life is good.

For years I have been fighting for myself, for a place in this world. To feel like I belong in this world, but most of all, to find out more about me. Who am I? What do I want? Where do I want to go? All these questions but no answers... 

No one could give me the answers to those questions, and that made me feel so frustrated. It made me feel so alone, as if no one was really able to help me. As if I had to face the big scary world alone after all. As if the only person I could rely on in this world was myself. 

Now I'm further than I've ever been, climbing the mountain representing life. I look down sometimes, to reflect, but also to see how far I have come. And wow what a distance I have climbed up already. There are some holes in the mountains as well, but those deep tunnels are all connected and come back up to the surface in a different place on the mountain.  

Those holes, the rough parts of the mountains, they mostly represent my teen years. The years so much happened and I fought so hard. Therapist after therapist, I visited. Wall after wall I build and broke down again. An endless amount of buckets stands beside the track, filled with all the tears I cried. People entered my life and left again. So much changed. There are some labels as well, Type 1 Diabetes and ASD. Well, they look pretty good from up here. I do feel them though, and they do weigh me down quite a bit, but it's mostly knowledge and tools I've been given to deal with them. 

I have a beautiful view now. The road in front of me is foggy, mysterious, keeping tons of secrets I have yet to discover. Where I'm standing right now the path feels steady, no loose rocks that might make me trip, steady. Life is good, and as I look down I start tearing up again. Not because I feel sad, it's because I feel proud. Proud of what I have achieved over the last eight years. Proud of how I kept falling down, but always stood back up, no matter how much the fall had hurt. How I kept breaking down the walls I build for myself. Yes, reaching the point where I am now wasn't easy. It wasn't easy at all, but I made it. I am where I am now because of everything that happened during the rough parts of the climb.

And those questions I've been asking myself. Well I don't think I'll ever really answer them. All the answers will be is temporary as I keep climbing up, facing new challenges, meeting new people, become a new version of myself. In 20 years I might have an even better view, the path might be even steadier, maybe even broader so a family of my own can help me climbing my mountain. 

One thing I have learned about answering the questions however, is that you never have to do it alone. No matter how lost and lonely you feel, every person you meet in your life, every choice you make. Those might not give you the answer, or the answer you want. But they will always give you a little piece of the answer, this massive infinite puzzle that is your life.

Lately I've been given brightly coloured pieces only. Why? Because I found happiness. Not in someone else but in myself. I'm proud of what I have achieved so far and I've never been happier with who I am. I have more energy and the world has become this wonderful place again instead of a battlefield with me facing the rest of the world. 

You know, life does want you to be happy and I realise that now. With a genuine smile on my face, the strangest feeling in my stomach, and more energy than I could ever need, I face the road ahead. I head into the fog, ready for my next adventure and so far so good. The path is steady and so am I.

Life is good.

A little story about me.

Hello,

It is time for "the blog". The one I wrote a little prologue for a couple of days ago. A prologue containing some information about this blog. Please read the prologue before you read this blogpost.

I have been writing ever since I can remember. Little stories about unknown places and undiscovered dimensions. Places and people, all living in their own universe, on their own planet but still all in my head. All these universes flowing out of my pen onto paper, creating a story, a life line no one had heard of before. 

Up to today I still love writing, to create new places and new people. Better places and better people. Yet besides all the fantastic stories my mind creates it is also constantly full. Full of thoughts, doubts, questions, feelings, dreams. Some more crazy than others, some more recent than others and others more present than some. My mind is a fantastic place and I absolutely love it. My mind however is also my greatest enemy. 

As a little kid I already used to prefer living in the fantastic worlds inside my mind that in the real world. I have never been too fond of other people and always preferred being alone. There are a few people I have allowed into my life and even fewer that know what is going on inside my mind. Not the fantastic worlds but the enemy side. The dark side, the one that has been silently haunting me since the beginning of my days. 

When I became twelve and it was time for secondary school the dark side of my mind began to show itself more and more often. The innocent little kid I was would soon disappear. In general secondary school was great. I met all of my friends there and even learnt some useful things besides all the useless sh*t they provide you with. Yes it is true, half of what you learn in secondary school is useless and you will never use it outside of school! Spoiler alert.

The first year was rather great and I felt like I had finally found my place in society. Despite all the fun I had I became incredibly sad and not knowing where the sadness came from made me angry, really angry. But no one wants to know you're sad right?! So I kept all the anger and sadness bottled up inside for as long as I could. Emptying the bottle a little every time I got a hold of a pen and wrote my feelings down on paper. The writing wasn't enough so some times the sadness and anger took over which I then took out on myself. Why? Well, it was my anger, my sadness so I should take it out on myself and not on anybody else. These anger attacks as I can safely call them were the start of years and years of therapy. 

I really liked my first psychologist, she really helped me and together we looked for ways to deal with my anger. Some were more effective than others, and slowly I seemed to get 'better'. The anger attacks being dealt with, I became more silent in school, avoiding most social interaction and becoming rather lonely. This led to my psychologist helping me become more of a social person and helping me overcome some of my fears like asking people to hang out with me or calling people, friends or professionals like my dentist. I didn't overcome these things and every time I had to have a conversation with people in real life or on the phone I felt very anxious. The anger attacks were mostly over but had been replaced with anxiety and panic attacks. 

As the dark side of my mind became stronger and bigger, I felt like I was losing control. As a nice bonus my psychologist had to go somewhere else so I would get another psychologist. This didn't go well and as the second year of secondary school came closer to an end we had to stop my therapy as there was no bond between my new psychologist and I. The panic attacks were still there, I started feeling more and more worthless and not worthy of being alive. I felt like a constant burden to everyone and anyone so I kept away from the world as much as possible. I did go to school though as I somewhat enjoyed the company of my friends and the happiness they radiated. It made me feel a little bit alive and that was all I needed. Without any professional help I had to help myself. I increased my writing as writing has always been a great way of dealing with my problems but what I wrote became darker and darker. The amazing universes were the only things I had left so I started living in there rather than on earth. But the darkness kept growing and eventually it started crushing the only things that kept me together. 

I was lost, utterly lost. An increasing amount of panic attacks and a decreasing amount of social contact made me feel even more alone and unworthy of living. I started getting suicidal thoughts and I started planning my own death. I even wrote letters to everyone that needed to know the truth. At that time I was so done with life. Done with trying even though I had only been fighting my own mind a little over a year. Thinking back all the problems I had back then seem rather silly and I am very thankful I am still alive and able to do what I love doing. 

After my first two psychologists I took a different turn and started hypnotherapy. The therapist was a lovely lady who has helped me through a lot of bad times and who has taught me several ways to remain calm and quiet my mind. In the time I got treated by her I also got into the hospital for a week. Diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. The week before I got diagnosed might have been the worst week ever both mentally and physically. I wanted dead, death seemed peaceful to me as I was in such pain and I had no idea where the pain and all the other symptoms came from. Luckily I got control of my diabetes quite quickly and even though I had to change my lifestyle completely I felt happy again. I was in control of my life again. A little later I quit hypnotherapy.

This control didn't last very long as a little while later it was time for psychologist number 4. Number 4 and 5 were included in my "diabetes care package" together with physiotherapists and so on. Number 4 was yet another great psychologists who helped me with a lot of my problems but she too had to leave and got replaced by psychologist number 5. Just like last time this didn't work out so I quit treatment again and went on the helping myself road again. It just didn't work. Everything I tried was useless so eventually I started harming myself which got worse over time until my mum and doctor started to notice and sent me to a psychiatrist. Thanks to my psychiatrist I have more clarity about who I am now. She diagnosed me as very depressed and eventually I also got the diagnosis Pervasive Developmental Disorder also known as PDD. Both diagnosis didn't come as a surprise but they did give me a lot of clarity regarding my own mind and behaviour. 

My depression disabled me from going to school. I couldn't concentrate, I was too afraid to participate in conversations and I was just too tired to keep up with everything. I cried on my way to school and on the way back. At home the crying continued until I was too tired to cry. Continuing my university course wasn't an option so I dropped out. The gap year I now had would consist mostly of me visiting my psychiatrist and trying to sort my life out. Get myself back together and "beat" my depression so I would be able to start uni again the next year. All together I have been treated by my psychiatrist for a year and a half. From just before I graduated from secondary school up to the end of the first month of my restart at uni. 

Now I am 18 and I'll turn 19 in a few months. The last appointment I had with my psychiatrist has been over half a year ago. There are still times I feel sad and that dark side of my mind starts to take over again but I have found effective ways to defeat the darkness. Writing being one of them. The fantastic universes I once created have come back but I don't spent nearly as much time in them as I did before. Life is too amazing to spent so much time in your head. 5 psychologists, 1 psychiatrist and 6 years later I am at a point in life where I can finally say I am happy with who I am. I know who I am and where I want to go in life. For some reason I am very thankful for all the misery I have put myself through as it has been an incredible journey and I have learnt a lot of valuable lessons. Life has only just begun and I am going to make it incredible. 

For all of you lovely people out there suffering from any form of mental illness. Please if you need someone to talk to know that you can always message me on any of my social media! Just know I am here to listen and help where ever I can. 

And last but not least, know that it always gets better. It might take 6 years but eventually bad times will pass and good times will come, don't forget that!

Lots of love,
ThatDutchGirl96