The end is only a new beginning

What a world.

You wouldn't believe how many times I've opened up this site and stared at this blank page, trying to formulate the words I want to say. When I say "so much has changed" - and I know how bland and overused that sentence is - I truly mean it: so freaking much has changed. In my head, among my friends and family, related to my future... 

This winter was a dark one. I remember writing a few posts back that the time between summer 2017 and spring 2018 was a tough one, hell, the worst of my entire life. Oooh boy... Was I in for a ride. During that time I was getting over a heartbreak. The hardest part about losing someone is the realization of letting go, of giving up on them: the difficult thing is realizing that the only thing you can do is to raise your hands up. There's nothing you can do anymore. After you arrive to the conclusion of having to let someone go, you have consciously and finally made the ultimate decision that you will no longer fight for them, that it's meaningless and in vain to keep breaking yourself over something impossible. You let go of hope. For me, that was tough, especially since our love had felt so passionate and so strong. It was like giving up on who I believed was a companion for... not necessarily life, but for a longer time. And the circumstances surrounding our breakup were nasty as well. In general, it was a sad ordeal. I had to let go of my feelings at first mentally, than physically, and it was oh-so-slow at first, a steady slide towards the edge of the cliff. And then we fell. 

But as messy as that period was, it was ultimately a good thing: I got out of something unhealthy and masochistic, even. However, this winter hasn't been good at all. Okay, that's somewhat of an overstatement. There were little sprinkles of "happy" and "fun" and "exciting" here and there, but overall, I broke for the first time in my life.

Stress.

The epidemic of our times, the boost mechanism of our system, the driving force behind maximum performance. The survival mechanism of evolution; fear.

Saying I was stressed would be an understatement. I was so stressed,  I became ill. I'll now describe the somatic symptoms I experienced on a nightly basis: shivering and trembling, hyperawareness and reactivity to any and all sounds (even the tic-tocs of my old, manual clock), tachycardia, arrhythmia, heartburn, nausea, issues breathing in deeply, dyspepsia... I had so many somatic symptoms, and oh man, I just couldn't figure it out. Am I dying? What is going on? Why is my body reacting like this, and to what? I could not understand a single thing - I wasn't even aware of my own stress. The thing is, I wasn't being hysterical or panicky: it was only my bodily reactions that first scared me, before them I didn't feel stressed at all. It didn't come to my mind until a few weeks later that maybe the issue wasn't in my body, but rather, in my mind! That maybe it was all due to my psyche and that my body wasn't falling apart. Oh, because I was terrified it was falling apart. I was certain I was going to die, that my body couldn't handle it, that this fragile machine would become exhausted and shut down. I was afraid of dying of heart failure. I wasn't crying, I wasn't hyperventilating, I wasn't doing any of that: rather, I tried to rationalize over the whole ordeal, trying all the tricks up my sleeve to calm down and unwind, trying to sleep, trying to not try to sleep, forcing myself to breathe deeply, meditating, exercising... I was trying to tell myself that my body was, for one reason or another, in a state of stress and that it'd be fine. But nothing worked. And eventually, I got scared: am I sick for real? Is my body failing? Will my heart be able to take the constant pressure and get overexerted?

Eventually, I developed a fear of going to bed. I started to be afraid of the nights, of my own bed. Every night became a worrying battle to fight against my panicked body, which led to a panicked mind... Which led to an even more panicked body, which led to more panic, which... You get it by now. 

Every night. Every night frightened me. Can I sleep? And even more importantly, will my body be calm? The panic and the feeling of my heart going overboard was much scarier than not sleeping. I had gushes of panic, this almost electric shock running through my entire body, this gushing wave of unease that traveled up my spine. I couldn't recognize what it was back then, but that was the feeling of panic creeping in. That's what I was afraid of, fear. Uncertainty. For around three months, every day was like that: I'd wake up, feel happy and forget the night, do my responsibilities diligently. But as the night approached, I became scared. I'd push going to bed as much as I could. Going to sleep at 1-4 am became the norm, because if I tried to lay down at 11 pm, I'd toss and turn for five hours. I exhausted myself to get even a moment of rest, to avoid the fear and to fall asleep as fast as possible. I'd lay in my bed, so scared, so uncomfortable, to eventually fall asleep, only to wake up in three hours. Eventually, I felt so sick, weak and exhausted. I couldn't get enough rest, no matter what I did. Melatonin? I wish that would've worked. Sleep hygiene? Haha, give me a break. 

I didn't sleep at all during one night. I had an exam that day, and of course, I went and did it. Of course, right?

The turning point was when I asked people if they had ever experienced something like that themselves. Oh my, I had given myself so many diagnoses, haha... As said before, it didn't come to my mind that it could be something psychosomatic; rather, my body was failing, so obviously it was the fault of my body! But some lovely person told me, 

"Honey, it sounds like you're having panic attacks. I've had those too, but after I got my panic in check, I could sleep again."

Panic? But I wasn't panicking!

--except for the fact that I remember thinking about things like these: "I can't fall asleep, I can't or else my heart will fail and my parents will find me dead in my bed next morning. If I'm awake, I can at least kick the walls, someone will wake up, they'll call the ambulance... Then I might survive."

... Right-o. 

After that, came the long process of understanding. It's in my head, it's stress, this is all stress-induced, it's not a cardiovascular disease, I don't have lung cancer (???), my thyroid gland is working properly, I won't die. My body isn't cracking under the pressure of a disease, it's cracking under the pressure of my mind. Stress, my love, stress. After identifying panic and stress as the source of everything, I've gotten better and better, slowly, steadily. I had to change my entire mindset over everything, over my future and the expectations I had secretly placed onto myself. And sleep came. Oh, lovely, healing sleep... I slept! I slept again! Five hours felt like an eternity, seven hours was enough to keep me energized for days. Oh, how I've missed you, dear, good, healing sleep. Don't ever leave me again.

I'll now explain the causes of everything. The stress was behind all these other symptoms, yet it, too, was only a symptom. The cause behind everything was me. I was to blame. It was my fault. Nobody else places such high expectations on me but myself. My parents have told me they'll support me no matter what - I could deliver mail, I could skip out on university, I could become a truck driver, and their love for me wouldn't waver. My teachers may be a tad demanding at times, but they're nice and won't place excessive pressure on us. My friends aren't the type to expect perfection. They're genuine friends, friendship isn't a to-do list to them. So, in all honesty, it was me, the ruin of myself.

Of course, I didn't just go ahead and decide to wreck my sanity, ahaha. Of course not! But had I practiced what I preached and been as kind and gentle to myself as to others, I'd probably have been a thousand times less stressed. I've grown up to expect perfect strength from myself. 

"I do not ask for help. I do not need help. I do not lean onto others." 

I do not know how to ask for help. I do not know how to need help. I do not know how to lean onto others.

See, I've always been the helper! My parents confide in me, my friends confide in me, even my friends' parents sometimes confide in me. Sometimes strangers have opened up to me. I've forced myself to be the groundstone, the foundation, the rock. I'll listen, I'll help... I want to help. God, I want to help so much..! I want to heal, to nurture the entire world. I want to take the problems of everybody onto my shoulders. When my friend was on a bridge, she called me. When another friend had panic attacks at school, I skipped my lessons and comforted her in the back of an empty classroom, or inside a toilet. My friends cry on my shoulders, yet I cry behind closed doors. We'd have long conversations through the phone, and my friends would tell me, "without you I wouldn't be alive anymore."

And you know... It felt so good to be needed, to be helpful. I so, so, wanted to be the warm person, the kind one. The one you can trust through fire and flames. I wanted to, essentially, be a god. I grew up and adapted to that position. 

But it was too much. I read and watched the news, skimmed through articles, listened to songs about our poisoned world, gathered up all the misery, sadness, hate, disappointment, bitterness and loneliness, and collected it into a big cluster I hid deep into my heart. I could see all this... Sadness all around me. The pain of every individual, the killing, the dying, the crying, the disease, and it hurt me. I so wanted to take it all away, yet I couldn't - of course I couldn't. Nobody can. And yet, I became infected with a terrorist attack in Turkey, a hateful string of messages online, a murder here, a rape there, the contamination of nature, the lies of politicians, the greed of businessmen and bankers, the bullying in schools, the suicides of the sad and the lonely and the let-down, the war in another corner of the world, the... The Ugly and the Hideous. The evil of man. It poisoned me. This was during last year, when my entire worldview went through a shift - a good one, mind you, but a stressful one nonetheless. I'm too empathetic for my own good! When my brother watched a documentary of some deceased surfer I had never even heard of, I started to cry, even though I was only watching it half-heartedly while doing something else at the same time. Ah, stupid girl. I can't cry for the sake of the world. The world doesn't care about my tears.

Not to mention everything else.

I must be strong. Strong. Strong. Strong. Independent. I must succeed. I must get good grades. My self-worth has to do with my capability to survive, my identity is based on my brain. I have to be pretty and small, I have to exercise, I have to havetoHAVETO get good grades. I have to do well. I have to manage. I have to. I... I must. I can't fail. Whip whip whip myself to success. Be a good friend, a good daughter, a good helping hand. Be a good student, oh, so diligent, good girl. Please say "good girl" to me. Please... Please let me be enough. I'm not enough! I'm not enough to me! More! MORE!

So you could say that I had high expectations, when it came to my finals, haha. I did get good grades, but.. At what cost?

"If I fail, it means I'm stupid." And when I got the second best grade, which STILL is much over the average, I was disappointed! Ahaha, so unrealistically, idiotically demanding.

Then the lawsuit was going on, and I dealt with it completely on my own.

Then all my friends graduated. Three of them traveled to Australia, a couple moved away.

I was alone all of the sudden? 

I lost touch with them, they were all over the world, and I wasn't on social media anymore. I felt... forgotten.

Then my grandpa got sick.

Then he died.

Then I felt guilty, because during the summer when he came to visit us for the last time, I was on the Bear's Trail, 800 km to the north. I wasn't there to see him.

Then my grandma lost her sight and is moving to a service home right now.

Then my parents had problems.

I...

Then I had problems.

So yeah, that's the story of how my mind started to crack for the first, and hopefully last time in the entirety of my life. But guess what? I think I'm starting to be fine now. The thing is, nobody knew how bad it got. The depths I had sunken to. They couldn't even notice I was experiencing anything, because during the day, I forgot the horrors of the night and lived happily ever after. I couldn't trust myself with anyone and allow myself to open up, to ask for help. I guess I wanted to, I would've loved to sleep next to someone. But no, there was nobody to sleep next to. I hid everything behind a smile, even our school psychologist told me I was fine. Haha... I wasn't, though. Accepting that was the first step to recovery. Accepting that, hey, I don't have to be okay all the time. I can be fragile, too. I can break as well. I don't have to be ironman. I feel like crying over the relief that thought gives me. Right now, I feel my eyes getting wet. It feels like my soul is crying tears of relief and joy. I can... I can be weak, too. I don't have to be inhumanely strong. I, too, can need a timeout. 

And now, everything is becoming alright again. I don't think I ever developed a full-on mental illness, in my opinion. (I guess?) I didn't snap completely, but was spread so thin that at times, it felt like I evaporated into the air. However, with some mindfulness over my own health and the unreal expectations I had placed onto myself and the weight I had taken, I could improve. I got better. 

(And no, I couldn't ask for help from anyone this time, either... This process was mental. But, I think in the future, I might be able to trust someone with that.)

The first thing was accepting failure. I can fail, too. I don't have to win all the time. My grades don't determine my worth. I won't go to uni next year. I'll get some headrest and earn money. I'm not in a hurry... I know I'm somewhat smart, at least not the dumbest of people. So, whether I get straight As or not doesn't have to impact my perception of that. The people that matter know enough of my mind to make up their own minds about it, as well. 

Not aiming at reaching my highest potential all the time was a big one, as well. I don't have to only be content with the best of my ability - heck, I can "underperform" and be satisfied with that. I don't have to be a part of the best of the best even if I could (and I probably couldn't), because sometimes, you can do less. Sometimes you can be satisfied with less, you hear? Sometimes you can reach lower.

The one I'm working on constantly, is saying "no". I'm such a helper, lol. I say "yes" whenever somebody needs help, even without thinking. I put all my plans, desires and needs aside. I get taken advantage of for that exact reason, too, yet I keep doing it again and again. I slave away like a little Jesus, so altruistic of me, oh, so selfless and kind. Yet I never ask for help myself! See the issue here? I help everybody with everything, yet I never ask for help. It's completely one-sided and also had some influence on this entire stress-thingy, because I overworked myself at the stables, at school and with friends. So yes, I need to learn how to say "no", even if it's selfish.

It's okay to be a bit selfish at times!

I guess I should also learn how to be vulnerable and ask for help. It's a big deal if I confide in someone, but anyone who knows me even a bit better will notice that I always laugh about it in the end. I'll always put some humor into it, some "lol", some "haha". Anything to take away from the seriousness of the pain. It's fine, it's fine, see? I'm laughing at it. (It's not funny.)

I'm... I'd like to say that I'm not broken at all. The thing is, I'd want to be that strong figure who never breaks and never needs anyone or anything and never feels vulnerable. Yet I think everybody can tell it's a lie by now. Anyone who reads this post, anyway. But on the outside, I've done all of my responsibilities, been that diligent worker and altruistic helping hand, I've done everything I've needed to, and then some. So in a way, I guess I'm not as fucked up as I could be. I think after learning a healthier way of looking at the world and myself, first and foremost, I might be alright. At least a little more alright then I was a couple of months back. However, I'm not perfect. I hope anyone who might want to be close to me will be alright with that, that I may perform well in school and at work, but I'm a work-in-progress. I'm a little messy. I have some trust issues and aren't good at expressing my inner emotions. I'm loving, flirty, kinky, humorous, adventurous, courageous, somewhat smart, I guess, passionate, honest, loyal... And weak, fragile, sensitive, emotional, distrusting, complex, layered, cruel to myself, capable of being cruel to others, imperfect.

Well, things are getting better. School is almost over and I've been sleeping real good even though finals are happening. I've let myself take it easy. I've let myself to let go of the high expectations. I've gotten in touch with my old friends in Australia again. I've read and done crafts a lot, done yoga, gone for runs, eaten some good food, cleaned my entire closet and room, and so on and so forth.

When it comes to the future, I've never stopped being hopeful or excited about it! Even at the times of my worst stress, I never became nihilistic or pessimistic; rather, I was just too burdened and tired. However, now that I've gone through this process, my priorities and plans are a bit different. All I want is to manage and to be content. Money, success, fame, they are meaningless words. All I want is to get enough money to get by and be independent, all I want is to do work that feels meaningful to me.

Meaning... A pretty word. I want to become an agronomist and heal the world, even just one patch of soil, with my own two little hands. Here are some fragments:

A cat sleeping on a saddle pad.
The smell of newly-baked cinnamon buns circling through the house.
Picking up wild flowers and putting them into a vase next to the window.
Cooking my partner's favourite food.
Kissing his eyelids when he's asleep.
Hands going into the soil, hands caressing the leaves, hands petting the tree trunks.
Morning dew atop the grass.
Running barefoot, laughing, chasing someone important.
The sound of hooves on the pavement; the sun setting.
Listening to the laugh of someone important.
Laying in someone's arms.
Seeing the first sprouts during spring.
The feeling of driving fast on the motorway.
Riding my bicycle late at night, alone, going so so fast downhill, wind in my hair, adrenaline in my blood.
Finishing a craft.
Finishing a painting.
Swimming in a lake late at night, alone.
Going rowing under the stars in the silence of the summer night.
A song that makes me cry. A song that resonates within my soul. A song that gives me goosebumps.
Finding a lovely melody on the piano.

Quiet sounds, like paper. Rectangles. Alcohol and reckless behaviour. The excitement of fear. Playful teasing. The satisfaction of letting go of your binds.  The thrill of new discoveries. The absence of control. Trying to find your own limits - then going over them. Running faster than ever before. Running until the taste of blood. Experiencing flow. Late night, uncensored thoughts. Having a genuine conversation. Smiling at a passerby. Having a conversation with a stranger. 

Hope. Love. Kindness. Care.

I've gotten the job of my dreams. School is soon over. I'm free to go wherever I want (yet there's only one place I want to go to, truly). Driving a car is fun. Friends are lovely. The sun is feeling warm again, the first time since early October. There's somebody exciting. I... I'm healthy again, I think.

I've written this before but left it out because it feels so arrogant and pompous, but sometimes I feel abnormal. Not overly-intelligent or extraordinarily talented, ahaha, nothing like that. Nothing so special. Still, at times I feel uncommonly sentimental, empathetic and sensitive. I love. So much. Sometimes, it feels like a burden. Sometimes, it feels like a blessing. I wouldn't know. It is and exists. All I know is that right in this moment, I'm so happy. The world is no better than before; and yet. And yet. I have grown, I can feel it in my bones. There's so much possibility, so much potential for good, so so much!! I've become better for myself and others as well, and tomorrow is bright. This moment is so bright, it shines like a star.

I look outside and it's dark, but the darkness is hopeful. I can smell love in the air.

This world isn't very kind - we don't treat difference nicely, and we like to be violent, aggressive and stupid. Short-tempered and short-sighted. I know about the dark side of humans: believe me, I know. I know it in myself, too. I'm not so optimistic about the world itself, but I'm feeling optimistic over myself. I'm not going to let the flipside of humanity contaminate me and rid me of my happiness.

"And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good." -John Steinbeck