Category: The life

Wow, it’s been long. Not really sure what I’ve been up to. I’ve been working quite a lot. Socializing much more than usual. I’ve had two weddings, trip to Oslo with my mum, spent a lot of time with the first and the little one, too little time with the other one (which he says is a good thing; missing each other is good), and then relaxing for the rest of the time. Which we all know I need a lot of.

I think some of the reasons I haven’t been checking in on myself’s got to do with the fact that I’m not running. Haven’t been able to since the marathon. And it makes it a little bit harder to sit down alone and think about how I’m feeling. Which is ok,I guess. People don’t usually sit down with themselves all that often. I’ve just gotten so used to it I’ve started to depend on it to maintain some sort of tolerable level of sanity and happiness. Which may be just an illusion. Come to think of it.

Went for a run last Friday and felt the happiest that I’ve felt in a long time. Of course I woke up the following day with a slight limp and a slow moving inner thigh. So that was a little bit devastating. But I kind of feel it was worth it. Tears of joy are something I’ve been craving for a long time. I’m convinced it’s what reminds me when I’m feeling really low, that I can also reach that same intensity of happiness. That level of tear in and weight on your chest that leads to having to open up your entire system by tilting your head back to even be able to get enough air into your lungs. The opposite physical reaction to what makes you kind of shake when you’re sobbing and makes your system collapse and go inwards. Yes, this is the physical reaction that makes you laugh because it needs so much oxygen to feed this chest-expanding feeling when you’re crying of joy. Have I gotten addicted to extreme emotions? Have I felt such highs and such lows that I feel depressed by the lack of it..? For the same reason a person do extreme sports, is it possible to become addicted to extreme emotions?

I think I am. An extreme-emotion-related adrenaline junkie.

Anyways. Maybe it’s ok that I’m feeling a little bit distanced and not in touch with everything that goes on in my mind. But I can’t shake the fear that it might explode some day. I’m over-thinking this.

Like I do all things in life.

Anyways. I least I got a new dress because the sun was out and the other one spent a ton of money on free diving equipment, and balance is everything.

A dress I’m clearly very happy about -it was very expensive.

A dress I used for these guys’ wedding.

Notice the overheated broad-legged mess to the right wanting to jump ship.

Obviously not a photo taken by me. I would never pose like that knowingly.

 

It was so hot that weekend I could go swimming every morning. This made me very happy.

Ok I’m off now. Off to a day of steaming and sewing (actually working on something super exciting) and not having to face a single soul all day <3

That was the best day I’ve had in SO LONG. Wow.

I’m not getting into a lot of details about the race, but a quick summary (..) is on order.

I did manage to start slowly and really hold back the first lap (the course was the same loop twice with the start- and finish line right in the heart of Bergen city). Holding back in the beginning is crucial for long-distance runs and made me feel as fresh as strong starting my second half together with the huge group of half-marathon runners (later when my legs were fatigued and stiff I would find great pleasure in seeing them fly by me with personal record times in mind).

Continued to feel good during the long climb that makes the first quarter of the course, managed to maintain a sort of decent pace after that, slower than I wanted to.. but ok. Hit a new kind of feeling around the 35-36K mark. Which was kind of interesting and new to me. I’m a firm believer in everything I do that when it starts to hurt and I feel like giving up I’m halfway there as far as what my body can do. So this was a first for me. I actually couldn’t run faster. I do realize I should have drank more water and gotten more sugar and salts from the stations. I just always feel that I don’t need to exaggerate intake during my runs, but my blood-sugar levels might have dropped faster due to my cold -I don’t know. I had been feeling light-headed for a week so it makes sense in hindsight. Also the cold temperatures contribute to underestimating thirst and the amount you’re actually sweating. Anyways!

BORING!

I had a bit of an outer body experience towards the end watching myself from the sideline running in true marathon-runner form. I’ve seen them. Usually aged 40-60+ : legs tight, core and glutes really engaged, arms close to torso, shorter quicker strides saving energy everywhere it can be saved. I suddenly felt older and wiser thinking to myself that time doesn’t matter. At that point I was just excited about the fact that I would soon finish my first marathon. I also started visualizing myself standing at the start line next year knowing all too well I’d forget this pain the minute I finished. Which also pissed me off a bit tbh as I wanted to run faster but couldn’t. Craving more pain than I was already in. I’m accustomed to enduring some physical pain and don’t really fear it because I know it’s so temporary. But for the first time I didn’t have a final sprint in me! Which is kind of amazing. It means I gave whatever I had in me that day and I can’t be anything but super proud of that.

Finishing at 4:19:54 I know I can do better though. I run faster than that, but it’s fine. No need to get greedy Viktoria, it’s not a good look.

I’m also realizing I still have a bit of a cold, which doesn’t make me less proud as I know sickness makes your body perform less than usual. I can’t wait for next year. I definitely have a time to beat and I’m hungry for more.

One of the other many reasons this was the best day in a long time was the people. The amount of pride I felt for everyone racing was unbelievable. Even the ones pushing through nudging everyone in their way. Followed by a quick turn of their heads with a little hand gesture followed by an annoyed but accepting nod by the receiver. Like a car blinking to the other driver after forgetting to signal before a turn to say “thank you” and “sorry” at the same time.

Each of us with a good reason to run. Each with a goal in mind. Each an internal struggle that makes the will to push through the signals your body is sending you asking you to stop. The body doesn’t really like long-distance running. It’s just not made for it and get into all sorts of damage because of it. Still, there we were. Thousands of people alone together with one thing in mind. Win over our bodies and get to that finish-line. Many people do it as a sport and competition. But running still is and will always be a lonely sport that can only be driven and achieved by one person. This feeling brought a tear to my eye mid-race and reminded me to look up and smile to the supporters along the way cheering their parents, daughters and sons, siblings, lovers and colleagues on. That of course all went to shit at some point and got replaced with an attempted smile that probably looked more like a sad clown towards the end.

As a conclusion I need to remind myself that a runner almost never have a perfect run. Be that on your daily morning-run or on race day. A knee acting up, the lower back, lack of sleep, sickness, stress and shortness of breath, stress in general, lack of motivation, weather, too much clothes, injuries, worn out shoes, cramps, blisters, phone battery dying leaving you without music, dehydration, low blood-sugar levels.. The list is endless. And now, post marathon, (that’s my life now, a new life and a new me because I ran a marathon and that’s me now, left feeling a little bit without a goal in life atm wanting the day all over again) I need to focus more on other stuff again. Work. Love-life. Wine.. Aaaand (wait for it..) running!

Because those days when you’re blessed by the Universe and get a run in close to perfect conditions and with perfect form.. Those runs are like nothing else and keeps you going until you find it again.

(For me that is, a humble marathon runner)

Last week I had three panic-attacks. Which is equivalent to what I experience throughout a whole year, maybe. Brought on by very different reasons, but all got me thinking how fragile we are and how hard it can be to receive help. It also brought the harsh reminder of how much it hurts and how fear of anxiety fuels anxiety itself.

It is really hard to trust and start over again after your prophecy has fulfilled itself. Your fear of a certain situation turning out in the worst possible way has become true. -Now what? If you’re living with panic anxiety or/and (in my case) social anxiety (which is not all that common a thing btw; it’s a disorder which affects around 15% of the population), you live in more or less constant fear of your bad experiences happening again. I fear it just about every day of my life.

To people who hasn’t experienced it: you feel like you are going to die. Which would understandably be terrifying for everyone. And during all of this, to have people around you not understanding, belittling or dismissing the situation.. it makes my heart bleed and my eyes roll back to the point of which I can see my temporal lobe just thinking about it. And almost glad that I have it. So that I can at least respect and feel total sympathy for the person going through it. The feeling of suffocating is “only” the result of physical discomfort and pain over a period of time (be that seconds or several hours. Except panic attacks. Those fuckers hit you like lightning from clear sky on a bright summer fucking day). It leaves your body exhausted and your mind fatigued. It’s been a week almost since my last one and I’m still drained.

I just used a phrase ^ start again because that’s what it feels like after incidents like this. Sometimes you can see it for what it really is; a bad experience, and move on. Other times you’ll regress. Feel like everything you thought you knew was wrong and you must indeed fear those situations. And that feeling can be paralyzing. I can stay in for a week at times after having a panic attack. Why wouldn’t I when people out there can make me feel this way? Wouldn’t you?

I’m trying really hard not to diminish people who haven’t gone through the same’s understanding and compassion, I really am. ‘Cause I’ve seen people making fun of it, of me, anxiety disorders.. I’ve been laughed at before, and I’ve been laughed at now. Again your fear has been proven right, so how can you trust anyone not to make fun of your disorder again? It’s a horrible feeling. Imagine coming home from war with no-one understanding why you’re so affected by loosing a leg. I hate comparison and am obviously not good at it, but people don’t get it! So I’ll use this farfetched one. The principles are the same -you’re traumatized while others laugh at your feelings telling you you should be happy to be alive. No harm done, right? So to trust someone again, when your other leg’s about to be amputated (hahaha ? -bad at comparisons), it would be hard, yes? Why would you even tell anyone how it feels?

I guess what I wanna say today is this: If you don’t understand something, at least take people seriously for whatever they’re hurting for. And for you going through something; Reach. Out. I called the little one in one of my incidents last week and she jumped in a cab to find me sobbing at a cross section. Even though my immediate reaction was to never want to see anybody ever again, I know from past experiences this won’t do any good and have learned to reach out. Anxiety hates daylight. And company. Call someone and get it out. (If you have no one you can write to me if it helps <3)

Nothing is ever stupid.

If it feels real to you – it’s as real as a car crash.

You’re not weird.

You’re not weak.

Someone feels the same and you’re not alone.

Choose your friends wisely. Only you know what’s best for you.

You can always leave the room. If you’re scared of how people will react just say afterwards “I wasn’t feeling very well and had to leave the situation”. You won’t believe how many people didn’t understand me or respect me for simply saying “I’m not very comfortable in this situation, I’ll just step outside for a moment” : NO ONE. If you own it they’ll respect you for acknowledging it. People’s perception of us is very much affected by how we carry and feel about ourselves. It’s not a weakness to have fears -you’re defying it and already winning (shhh, this is a secret).

Never apologize.

You don’t owe anyone anything. You owe yourself to take care of yourself.

Try not to let it control you. Remember that it was a thought and/or a isolated physical experience -you weren’t really dying. It wasn’t really dangerous even though it felt like it. This is crucial to understand in overcoming anxiety.

With that said, I never said I knew everything about overcoming anxiety disorders. Nor that I’ll ever be cured. All I know is that I do stuff I wouldn’t dream of doing three years ago. I know in my heart and body how to deal with uncomfortable (potentially life-treathening situations), it’s almost a reflex now. And I know how to recover from the rare extreme incident and not blame myself for it or feel stupid. I also know I can easily cut out whatever’s causing me unnecessary stress. That’ll give me surplus of energy to deal with the challenging stuff that I can’t avoid, like work etc.

Prioritize! Heal when you can, gather your troops and give yourself a real big dosage of love. You’re doing great, you’re still here and you actually know yourself and others a little bit better for it.

Have a lovely weekend, I’ll be keeping a low profile with my man knowingly that I’m still fit for fight and stronger than ever. Just a different fight than that of the average Joe’s.

Last week I tried a new psychologist.

Lol I don’t think so.

This round I want to focus on my social anxiety and panic attacks. And whenever I embark on another journey filled with hope towards an anxiety-free life I get super-sensitive. My anxiety increases and I’m even more self-conscious than I usually am. Spending most of my life in survival mode, painting layers upon layers over bad experiences and fears knowingly that my free space is decreasing – stripping it down and looking at it’s rough raw surface with bad experiences and weaknesses is way morse. So I have very ambivalent feelings towards the whole thing. Seeking help. The cost of going there can be so big. So I really need this to be worth my while.

I walz in there, hesitant -but confident, with my usual guards up and start presenting myself. Few questions in considering my presence and how I got here and I start balling

…

Why though??? Whenever I’m really faced with questions about how much pain my anxiety is causing me from, say, one to ten and to which extent it affects my everyday life it’s impossible to think of a worthy answer. And my reaction is always the same. Nothing but despair. And the feeling that no one will ever understand how it feels to be so aware of your own challenges yet so incapable of doing anything about it is sometimes unbearable. And very painful when met with anything but utter respect and compassion.

I get so pissed when someone sees that. Especially authority. Then I definitely can’t stop crying. Even when I’d stopped crying, I wasn’t done crying. Probably doing all sorts of facial expressions trying to divert him from the fact that I was, in fact, still crying. It was right there under that trembling lip the whole time till the moment I stepped out of his office. Nay! Till I got home actually! Mustn’t forget the teary way home.

I’m not looking for much in a psychologist really. Listen to my challenges. Then fix them.

Seriously though, respect my pain and occasionally shut up and let me cry it out before I pull myself together for fucks sakes. Try to understand why I am the way I am and why I cope the way I cope. I didn’t get any of this from him. He definitely didn’t get why I was so emotional. He actually laughed at some of the things I said, asking me which study I had this none sense from? And if he could use it in one of his talks? I mean what the fuck, am I being pranked? I don’t like feeling ridiculed. Goddamnit that crying.

Why do half the people who become psychologists even become psychologists? Bet there’s loads of fucked up reasons. But the good ones save lives and I’m searching for my rescue. Ever hopeful, ever open. I’ll just save myself a bit longer for now. Can’t have anyone else with a degree confirm why I don’t trust them in a while, and he actually managed to close the curtains for now. Power to ya!

Here’s an outtake from this photoshoot I had two minutes ago in my hall mirror. It has a concave line in the middle which is equivalent to perfection as far as self image goes.

Had to go all the way up here to look pretty again. Don’t ever forget how pretty I actually am.

Wouldn’t go out all high and mighty though. So I leave you at this handsome fella, bye

I’ve been uncharacteristically social this week, as in the week when the other one’s working and I’m on my own. And it got me thinking, because I always fear not having enough time for myself. I’m scared of people wearing me out. Because they’ve done that for so many years.

I see it as reclaiming power and a self-preservation thing. But it got me thinking! Time for what? How do I charge? Do you ever think about that, what you do when nobody’s watching? The essence of yourself?

The realness is almost too real to share with the real world. I see myself as one of the lucky ones. I’m in a relationship that allows me to still get alone-time on a regular basis. It has it’s down-sides, but it does keep a loner sane. These are some og the things I do:

No washing of the face in the morning. Besides my eyes, I just let those natural oils give my skin a treat and keep my dirty paws off of it. No make up. Wash and moisturize before sleep.

Eat dinner at two/three o’clock. Four at the latest. I know that a hot meal mid-day is something people around the world refer to as lunch. We don’t. Norwegians eat brødskive med pålegg at lunch. Knekkebrød if you’re healthy. Or if you just prefer it. No shame in anyone’s food game. We save our left-overs or newly prepared hot meals for the occasion that is Dinner. When I choose to eat again (at dinner-time usually, around seven) I call it kveldsmat. Eveningfood. And is normally what Norwegians have for lunch.

I almost never eat meat. It’s expensive and I rarely want it, and I’m happy eating boring food based on basically different sorts of pasta and chickpeas.

I wear pajamas all day every day.

Jokes. I do that when the other one’s home too.

I sleep with my curtains a bit open. I love waking up being reminded it’s a new day and yesterday is the past. Was yesterday good, you start again. Do good, again. Was it bad, today don’t have to be.

I talk to myself. Sometimes to the reality shows that dominates my screen as well while I’m working.

Good morning, me.

I do more housework. Everything is neat. Clean. I throw stuff away. Donate. Sometimes I clean out the other one’s closet. One colorful slogan t shirt at a time.

I drop all work at nine, then I watch crime-series. Currently Broen.

I never skip intro’s. Netflix. And I’m still watching.

Pee with the door open.

I drink less alcohol. Probably because I’m not very social. I’m usually not with people unless there’s alcohol involved. I don’t get why I would meet a friend that I’m kind of close to for a hike. Or coffee. Or anything that’d get my heart rate up. Coffee is best at home.

Have more evening snacks. Or, you know, more kveldsmat. Nibble.

Run more.

Bite my nails more.

I groom more. Foot baths. Pedicures. Hair masks, face masks.

Looking at this it’s quite obvious I’m in a subconsciously state of bettering myself in some way when I’m home alone. Grooming, cleaning, over-analyzing what my body’s telling me at all times, not drinking or doing anything remotely ‘damaging’ that could possibly lead to anxiety. Or being tired or feeling overwhelmed. Not on top of it. Just focusing on my fucking self all the time.

It’s a good thing I get that week+ to do that. But I’m also grateful I have someone to stop me from being constant submissive to my fears. I think I’d be cutting myself off from the rest of the world without, living by myself as a single woman with social challenges working from her own apartment.. And that I’d live life scared to go out without having done my routines perfectly, feeling perfect. My threshold would be so high. Quirks grow as we get older, and the more time we change life from happening because of them.  And loneliness is a very dangerous thing. Getting a cat is nice, but sometimes when I’ve been cooped up in my apartment for a couple of days, taking out the trash or going to buy more honey can be challenging. Even cheese.

So today I joined a gym via the internet. No binding contract membership obviously. Don’t wanna give myself anxiety. But it’s snowing and this wind isn’t doing my rosacea any favors. So the treadmill is calling. I’ll do it for a month or two. At least till it doesn’t look like this anymore.

Point is. I try to do what feels right. But try to make sure I stay in not because I fear the opposite, but because it feels good. Then you go out. You’ll know when. Right before the fear of leaving your controlled environment kicks in. Not earlier than you’ve dared to be yourself with yourself a little bit. Don’t be Leonardo DiCaprio in The Aviator. Be more like Winona.

Girl, Interrupted.

Today I just didn’t wanna get out of bed. Took me about 90 minutes. After sleeping till noon. I woke up at noon. Got up 90 minutes later than that.

I just had that feeling. That feeling of worthlessness. Just, pure worthlessness. More than worthlessness it was a question, maybe.. A question that owned the answer meaningless. Why would I get out of bed to face my worthlessness closer and more vividly than I already am lying down here. At least down here tears can easily be absorbed and I won’t have to look at myself. Down here it’s dark. I am cocooned. Laying down here makes for some sort of weightlessness. Like floating in a pool. Like a photo I have seen taken from above of a woman, floating around in a pool. I won’t have to feel my surroundings laying here, no clothes digging into my skin -not even the harshness of the air outside of my covers. Let alone daylight that will highlight my every inadequacy. Why would I get out of bed and face a question that I already know the answer to? That I can’t. Why try to create when I know that the defeat of not being able to will harm my delicate creative mind much more and for a longer extent of time than the pleasure of finally creating it will persist? A moment of pleasure until a morning like this comes again, when all that is conquered and created previous to that morning is, again, lost to my frail feeling of self-worth.

My husband made me coffee. I asked him to drink it here with me, in bed. -He did.

He went out to make some phonecalls, answer some emails I assume, then came back not long after. Slowly peeked inside my door. The door that is the extension of my pool which is my bed. He asks if I would like to climb out and come watch an episode of The Crown with him.

And right then and there I remembered vaguely that I am in control of my next move. I could descend into my pool of tears and weightlessness and stay there scared of what could be on the surface -in the daylight, over my threshold and extension of my pool that was my bed. Or I could really feel what it was that he was asking me to do. Drink a second cup of coffee while watching The Crown. -I felt that I could.

And when I could do that, the worthlessness slowly started to diminish. If I could make breakfast too, that’d be another thing. -I could.

Oatmeal, a second cup of coffee and 58 minutes, 43 seconds of The Crown. And I felt better.

Some days are bright days in disguise. Like my day today. You’ll know when it’s right to stay in bed. But on a day like this, I actually ended up having a very good day. Sketched for hours, loads of ideas. The best day I’ve had in a while, actually. And I think it’s got to do with two things in particular.

One. He knew. I had someone who knew what I needed to be given. A choice. A choice that wouldn’t have any effect on my self-image whatsoever. Because in a world where being worthy of love, admiration and praise is only granted if you achieve a certain amount of tasks, obstacles or chores; the choice of not doing so must conclude with you not being worthy of such affection. And that’s not nice. That’s very harsh, and a world I don’t want to be part of. So if you can greet the first choice of achievement with a ‘Yes’, you’ve already started your ascend. And given a huge favor.

Two. I knew. I knew that if I told myself enough times, I would come to believe it. I would. Because I know I have. In the past. I would, again, believe the truth that is that I don’t have to do anything, that Me getting through the day is Enough. I knew that to teach my mind to throw away these negative thoughts and fears that disassociates my mind from my body would be the greatest gift I could give myself. Listening to my body, reach the right conclusions, find the good truths.. Truths that say that we are all enough. So I spent a lot of time doing that. So that on a day like today I can turn my mind over to play for my team.

Give yourself a chance, on a morning like mine. Don’t set yourself up so that you’re able to fail on your first actual task of the day. Today he made that task a positive one for me. And maybe it saved me from drowning today. Because our bodies are not lazy. When listened to, encouraged and taken care of, it wants to. Work. Fix. Make better. Create. Same goes for our minds. Our minds are not just stupid nor just brilliant, it’s both. Most importantly it is not necessarily the reality. When guided and given memories and options based on good experiences our minds can do incredible things. It can rise to be better to you than anyone else will ever be. Teach it. You can’t outrun it. Nor should you blindly obey it. Teach it!