Tag Archives: Health

Eat my lover?

I am lying in bed, looking at a book I left on the coffee table last night. It’s about a cannibal killer who would eat his lovers after having sex with them.  As I stare at the book cover, I cry and I wonder how badly I handle my own love life. Right now I am 100% convinced that I will never be in a relationship again; I am just way too frail. I can’t handle the ‘Let’s just be friends’, it sends me straight into a full blown depression and my anxiety shoots through the roof. The loss of a lover/boyfriend is huge to me, since my social phobia makes me really isolated to begin with.

So what happens when I try to get out of my shell, I meet someone, I fall in love and then they decide to stop the relationship? I retreat into depression, total despair, days and nights of crying and going to that terrible place of ‘I really don’t want to be alive, anyway’. That’s a scary place for me as I have nobody to confide in. Then I start blaming myself. If only I wasn’t so emotional, if I could be different, if I could not over-react to every little thing, if I could just be a better master of my own feelings. But I can’t. I know that deep inside of me. This is me, I am anxious, I am overly emotional.

So now – having decided it’s not even worth switching the lights on in my flat – I am under the covers, crying the most hopeless cry I have produced in a long time, a voice in my head tells me to stay away from men all together. Some people can try out a relationship and move on quite happily. I can’t. It takes me months to feel okay again and before I see the light at the end of the tunnel, I see all my failures, my shortcomings, my sad little lonely life frozen in time. It will never be different. I will never find love and get to keep it. I just know it.

Dahmer – the serial killer I am reading about – said that he had to eat his lovers so they would never leave him.
I’d never eat anyone (yuck) but hey, I do understand the fear of being left alone. I fear what is already my reality: I am and will always be alone.  So now what?

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My mental illness

Drawn by early 20th-century commercial cat ill...

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I am one of the thousands of people who suffer from a mental illness. I have an anxious personality disorder, social phobia and reoccurring depression. I carry around the shame of it, the embarrassment , the guilt, the shock of how much this illness has robbed me of regarding family and relationships and life goals. There was so much I wanted out of life. I remember when I was a teenager, I would type on an old electric typewriter (before the age of laptops) and dream of becoming a famous writer. I’d dream about becoming a mother and having a family of my own. Everything would run smoothly, no problem. There was a long list of things I swore I’d never do, roads I would never go down, multiple ways of fucking up my life that I would make sure to steer clear of.

I am now 38, a noncustodial mother, retired, socially isolated and just suffered a break-up. Again.

I could never make friends easily, I prefer the security of sitting behind my computer screen. I have hobbies where I can be sure to be alone: Photography, writing, drawing, painting. Things that I can do on my own. I have no friends that come around, nobody to confide in except people online. That’s why the internet is immensely important to me – take that away and there really is nobody to relate to or talk to.

This was so not the way I pictured my life. I wanted other things, a wholly different result, believe me. I have fought and fought this mental illness all my life. It goes back to when I took my first steps (which I did rather late due to an operation).. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t anxious. There’s always been this deep insecurity inside me and it feels like I never had a choice in the matter – I could never win this battle even though I have tried.

If there’s one thing I’d like to change, it’s the fact that it’s so damn hard to find a partner. Who can tolerate being with someone so isolated, so needy, so insecure? I don’t know. I haven’t found anyone yet. I have a few failed relationships now and I am beginning to think that love is really not possible for someone with a mental illness.

Which kind of ruins my one final goal in life: I want someone to love me and STAY.

I now doubt it will ever happen.. because of this damn illness.

Do you think it’s possible to be successful at love when you have mental problems?

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Am I impossible to love ?

I am really close to giving in to the thought that I am unlovable. I am so socially awkward and anxious that it is impossible for anyone to be with me. I’m not 100% sure of the truth to those words but I am coming scarily close to believing them. Sure, I am in love but there is this huge wall standing right between us. The wall of social phobia. I try, I really do. I try to overcome my feelings of inadequacy, I try to stop judging myself so harshly and I have succeeded in actually pushing my own boundaries. But I have also failed miserably. I’ve had to give up on meeting his friends that he was so eager for me to meet. Huge disappointment. Pretty soon those awful words ‘let’s just be friends’. Ugh. I hate those words. They might as well be ‘you’re too weird for this to work out’. I know, I know, those words were not said. They’re the interpretation of a very anxious and shameful brain.

So I have to ask myself, am I really unlovable? I mean, if I can’t do all the ‘normal’ couple stuff, go out with friends, double date, hang out with another couple.. am I then doomed to live a life alone? Perhaps. I have said in a past relationship that I would be more than willing to stay home while he went out with another couple or some friends but he’d have none of that. He’d rather sit at home with me and sulk about not being able to go. He made me feel so ashamed and horrible (because I let him).

I never want to isolate anybody. Perhaps people feel that loneliness and anxiety is contagious. I so wish someone would look behind the anxiety and the challenges it brings and see this wonderful woman I really am. Just give me a fighting chance to test my boundaries before they leave. I know the problem is mine and mine alone; my biggest dream is just to be loved entirely, anxious or not. I know I sound like a whining child right now and full of self pity. That’s not the case. I don’t pity myself, I am merely expressing that I am holding on to the last thread of hope . . it cannot be true that I cannot be loved.

Yet experience tells me so. Some broken relationships behind me where anxiety played a major part in destroying things. Lots of other problems too (I am not accepting all the blame) but I know for sure what my own part was: Being crippled by fears and worries.

I can remember hiding in the bathroom while my ex husband had company over. It was that hard for me to face people. That’s how low a creature I considered myself.

I suppose it’s difficult to love someone who has these kinds of challenges because it affects so much of my life. I just wish so badly that someone would have the patience and the understanding and the strength to stand by me through it all.

Underneath this cloak of anxiety there is a very beautiful, lively, funny, sexy, fully lovable woman. I know it.  Where is the guy who will see her?

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Dear doughnut.. I mean Jesus


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Dear Jesus, please help me lose weight. Until this point I have counted on the LWBSOMAAD Factor: Losing Weight By Sitting On My Ass All Day – and alas, it has not worked. Let me just admit this to you right away. I am weak. Can I pass the candy department at the supermarket without buying anything? No. Can I (recently) pass the bakery without feeling an immediate, intense need for doughnuts? No. I may decide that today I will exercise – at least go 10 kilometers on my bike that is situated right smack in the middle of my living room and in front of the television and lo and behold, no exercise has been done when evening arrives. By then I enter into the ‘oh well, tomorrow is another day’ state of mind. Putting it off. Eating a little so I don’t feel so darn guilty.

Then in the morning I look in the mirror and act surprised. Like I am looking at some stranger who has absolutely no will power. I used to be slim back in the day but now I have drifted into this lifestyle of not moving a lot, eating unhealthy junk and whining about how I need to lose weight.

I keep thinking ‘Just do it’. It can’t be that difficult to get out of my chair. I might possibly have a tiny bit of a computer addiction going on. I admit it. Perhaps I should start small, take baby steps. Like go 1 kilometer on my bike per day. It sounds absolutely pathetic, I know, but it is a major step for human kind. If I keep doing what I am doing now, I can stand next to Oprah and she will appear slim. No offense.

Anyway, it’s late, I have been up since the crack of dawn and I have done absolutely nothing exercise wise all day. I have eaten way too much, of course .. and my mind is absolutely confused (probably too much sugar)!

I’ll sleep now. Tomorrow morning I am starting over. New attitude, new schedule, new outlook, new.. whoa, a cream doughnut.. yummm…

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Change my diaper?

 My birthday was pretty darn good. I originally thought I was turning 37 until the day before when someone informed me it was really 38. I lost an entire year. It’s alright though because with age comes wisdom. So they say.

I spent the day with my parents and one of my brothers (my son was still vacationing with his dad). We ate out for lunch and for dinner we had some rather delicious Chinese food. Baked shrimp – OH GOD, how amazing!

Without becoming too philosophical in my old age, I have decided to start collecting owls. They are wonderful, beautiful creatures. Wise like me. Plus they can twist their heads all the way around.. unlike me. Fascinating. So if you have any owls left over, please contact me.

By the way, I was being kinda whiny about turning 38 and I was wondering out loud whether half of my life has gone already. My mum (another wise woman) told me that the best part is coming. I do believe she is right. I just had to have a little think about it. I, as a woman and as a human being, is at that stage in life where things are finally starting to settle down a little bit. I have a bit of life experience, I am starting to recognize which men are jerks and which ones are alright, I am more comfortable in a lot of areas of my life. So if I only get calmer and more secure the older I get, I am fine with aging.

On the other hand, there’s that nasty time coming when I will need someone to change my diaper. Dilemma.

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Culprit found!

Sleeping, male baby cat. Red hair.

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I knew it! It’s the mattress on my bed giving me hives. I have been sleeping on my sofa now for over a week just to test if the bed really IS the cause of my hives and then yesterday night I slept in my bed again and voila, hives on my arms and legs again. There it is. So what to do now? Throw away the mattress? I guess.

All these antihistamines have messed up my sleep pattern. I find myself sleeping in the afternoon and when waking up a few hours, then sleeping again a few hours and waking up at 3-4 AM. Ugh.

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About the whole love situation..

I have no comment tonight. I’m in sort of a better place tonight so I am gonna leave it be.

Instead I am going to promote my new Youtube channel called Gorzalicious! and here is the URLhttp://www.youtube.com/user/gorzalicious

Obviously not too many videos yet but please subscribe anyway! I’ll be doing comedy stuff, I’ll be discussing my social anxiety and depression, I might be talking about how tough life is (when I am in that frame of mind) and I might.. sing. A bit.

Please subscribe, leave a comment, much appreciated. Right now I have a massive headache and no idea why. I better get to bed – I only got 14 hours sleep yesterday. I am thinking it’s the emotional roller-coaster thing taking its toll on me.

Gorzy over and out. I shall write something more sensible tomorrow. Promise.

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The rocks will begin speaking

You know the expression ‘monsters live in the dark’? It means that all the things we keep secret about ourselves, the things we try to hide so well both from family, loved ones and friends but even from ourselves, will eventually grow up into an ugly, mean monster inside our heart and take over. Result = emotional breakdown, snap, hospital visit or suicide.

That’s why I am all about screaming, yelling, talking, crying. Any emotional outlet (aside from cutting my own skin) is an acceptable form of letting all the anguish seep out of my soul. I know after yrs of experience that if I keep all this angst inside, I will break down.
I once fell down in the street because I suddenly couldn’t feel my own legs and I couldn’t make sense of much. I had a breakdown right there on the sidewalk. After being in hospital for a bit and having many talks with my psychiatrist, I know it was the result of keeping my concerns and thoughts and anger to myself. I had the ‘nice syndrome’ where – at the cost of my own sanity – I had to be a nice person at all costs. Many women suffer from this. Little girls are taught to be nice and little boys are taught to believe in themselves. Sometimes. Anyway, my niceness and my hiding from my black side made me break down. I had a complete psychotic episode, faceless men in the room and everything.

So I vow to never keep quiet about my illness. I will tell anyone who will listen. My name is Gitte and I suffer from depression and anxiety. I wish that when I someday can’t speak anymore and hopefully am at peace in my grave, the rocks and stones on the streets would shout about this deathly illness. We mustn’t be quiet about it. It’s a nasty epidemic hitting people all over the world and yet mental health problems are still taboo.

There is no way I will be a party to the silence. I am depressed, I am anxious, every day is a struggle but I will fight to my dying day to stay alive. That’s my challenge in life. We all have a challenge. If you have one, I encourage you to face it with bravery. Bravery is not pulling yourself together and getting on with it. Bravery .- in my understanding – is to accept what is, learn to handle it to your best ability, and being open and outspoken about the fact that you’re not perfect and you have struggles.

The people who have been through the hardest experiences, the people who have the biggest scars on their souls.. they’re the world’s bravest people.

A final thought. I have been told I have a bitterness about me. You bet. I can’t believe that life has dealt me what it has so far. I can’t believe how some people have treated me. I can’t believe how some people enjoy the mental games, the manipulation, the control. I have had bad things happen to me. But the important thing is – and I am so proud of this –
I have lived through it. I am alive. I am damn proud of that. Many people would have ended it.  I may be bitter and anxious but I have an upside too: I am a wonderful woman and I am strong as hell.

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Reba made me smile today

It seems that feeling better and getting my spirits up also means less writing! I mustn’t stop writing, though.. it is part of my healing process. I have had a busy day and I have enjoyed it so much. Usual household chores, laundry, dishes, cooking but most of all messing around with Photoshop (see photos in earlier post).

It surprises me a little that I can be creative when things seem so chaotic. My mind is an absolute mess! Yet I could tear myself away from it all, sit down and play around with photos and colors and shadows and light. I had the best time. Not for a second did I think about the fact that I am depressed. So this day was heaven sent, a most needed break from all the worries.

It’s gonna be hard to keep myself busy all the time but I am not even gonna think about it tonight. I will just soak in the happy feeling, the bliss a woman gets from being creative, kicking off her shoes and listening to some Reba whilst drinking an orange Bacardi Breezer. No really, I did.

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Hop on one leg and picture a rainbow

Complete neuron cell diagram. Neurons (also kn...

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A thought occurred to me this morning as I was brushing my teeth: Have you ever heard of a person going up to a cancer patient and advising them to stand on one leg and picture a rainbow in order to get better? I haven’t. Or how about a person dying from heart disease? ‘Hey, you should try to take more vitamins, you should think about how others may have it worse than you, you should try to be less self absorbed in your pain’. It just hasn’t happened, has it?
I start to believe that depression must be the disease that’s the recipient of the world’s crappiest advice and the world just seems to think it’s okay to hand out any number of frustratingly idiotic ideas for depression sufferers to get better. Imagine a big pile of smelly, disgusting trash – that’s where you can put most of the advice from so-called well-meaning individuals. The whole concept of smelling the roses, going for beautiful walks, getting out there among people to brighten my day.. well.. it just doesn’t hold a lot of promise compared to the promise that this disease might kill me and there is nothing I can do except let it rage through my body and mind. I might as well be tied down with ropes, that’s how little I control this illness. Nobody can imagine the pain of being trapped like that. You can claw and scratch and hope and pray and wish for your situation to be different; it’s just not going to stop until by the grace of God (or whatever power you believe in), the illness suddenly starts to ease up, lets go of it’s deathly grip. That’s when you can begin smelling the roses, going for walks and getting out there.

And once it lets go, you’re not the same. Not only does depression change you physically by killing off brain cells one day at a time. It also changes your personality and you will walk with this dark shadow behind you – or inside you – and the fear that maybe someday it will strike right out of the blue once more and everything falls apart.

Millions of people suffer from depression and we all have to listen to the ones who never had it, who doesn’t have a friggin’ clue, giving us tons of absolutely useless advice. It’s the only disease where this is accepted behavior. If you approached a cancer patient with some ridiculous advice that made absolutely no sense, the bullshit alarms would be ringing all over the place. It seems that when you suffer from a mental illness, it’s alright to offer any kinda crappy words in encouragement. And what do we get if we lash out in frustration at this advice? ‘I was only trying to help, you’re being so moody’.

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