Category: The life

The smallest of things add up to earthquakes too

by  on  in The life, Wedding • 12 Comments

The subject of my wedding-day came up yesterday on the morning show, and I realized I hadn’t really written about it in English? So I thought I’d do that today! Because I’m sure everyone’s DYING to hear about it.

Photographs by the talented Linn Heidi Stokkedal

As everyone can see I’m obviously married to the kindest, smartest, most handsome man alive. Just to make sure that that’s very clear before we embark on this journey that is my experience of my wedding-day.

I’m sorry to anyone this will offend.

Due to some poor decision-making the day before e.g. me taking charge of basically setting the entire wedding up alone because of my control-issues and ever-lasting optimism in myself (I CAN DO EVERYTHING MYSELF THANK YOU VERY MUCH), running around like a crazy person catching a cold doing so, not eating or drinking properly, staying too long in the freezing tent not leaving any time to myself checking in and preparing myself for the marathon a wedding is, and if I’m being very picky; ruining my nails. For someone who couldn’t give less of a shit about nails (this obviously wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back !!), I certainly hadn’t sustained from biting them for the last couple of weeks (do you know how much focus and dedication, not to mention the stress of it all, that creates?) paying more than a bottle of Veuve Clicquot to get them all fucked up the following day. I’d planned on getting a massage that day.

Anyways.

At the end of the day, feeling let down and left on my own and my destructive thoughts -I was exhausted. Shivering with a fever I knew the night and following day wasn’t going to be what I’d hoped for. A drink that felt toxic to my already aching body with the happy attenders at the restaurant we chose for pre-wedding-day-mingling I left early with pain in my joints and anger all over me. I wanted to scream.

I usually have a set of rules and “truths” that needs to be fulfilled the days leading up to an important and difficult task or day, in order for me to be able to go through with them. To feel strong. Believe in and be proud of myself. It involves a certain diet (all though trying to ignore this particular one). Food consumed in a specific number (one for something dominating e.g. a wrap, three for smaller stuff like fruits or crisp breads and five for snacks like chips). Not drinking alcohol. Being active. Getting enough sleep. Cleaning the apartment, my closet. Grooming -feeling like the best version of my physical self I can be. Writing positive things with the tip of my thumb (because that feels skinny, as opposed to pressing my thumb flat writing) inside the palm of my hand.. Stuff like that. And I’d been dreading my wedding-day since the day he proposed and we decided to have a big wedding. Initially I wanted to have a small one outside on a vineyard in Italy. So I’d lined up dozens of triggering random scenarios to best protect myself. Things people might say or do, preparation not followed through, orders of events being mixed up, being surprised at some point. With these preparations and rules followed I thought I might even enjoy the day.

Cold- and hotflashes , skin burning, nausea, feeling let down by my family for not being there for me, feeling as ugly as I’ve never felt before I threw my family out from my hotel room. The last glass of champagne over giggly conversation in bed wearing robes was definitely out of the question. I hated everyone with all of my body and myself even more. Unable to stop crying, dehydrated and with water retention I knew I would be the ugliest bride the world had ever seen.

I felt bad for all my guests with the expectations of a happy beautiful bride. I wanted to apologize to them. Apologize for the fact that they had to look at me, ugly as I was, for the entire day. Apologize for the things I would call them in my head as they would approach me with nothing but good intentions. Apologize to my husband-to-be for thinking so badly about his wife. For not wanting to marry him.

I can’t think about this night without feeling the hopelessness I felt. Brief moments of sleep, waking up in a puddle of sweat, interrupted by screaming and repeatedly hitting myself where it hurt the most -my stomach and my head. Repeat. Trying desperately to hold back my tears as I knew my already puffy face would blow up even more around my eyes if I let them out. Gasping for air but never wanting to take a single breath ever again in my life.

I know what some of you may think. I’m superficial and stupid for feeling the way that I did. I probably wouldn’t have been able to understand why these trivial things ended up making me feel like killing myself. I only have the memories. And the knowledge that it was real at the time.

The morning was as expected. Tears and yelling to my mum and my sisters. I hate you. I’ve never hated them. I downed some scrambled eggs and left for the hair dresser. I immediately apologized as I sat down in the chair for looking as horrible as I did. I’m sorry bridesmaids for being such a disappointment.

Can we drink champagne in the salon?

Yes.

I avoided looking myself in the mirror as best I could throughout the day as it only resulted in that unbearable feeling in my chest that came out as tears. Mustn’t ruin my makeup. This thick layer of makeup that didn’t stand a chance of covering up what lay underneath. I remember visualizing tearing my face off.

I quickly managed to get myself up on a decent level of intoxication. Keep ’em coming. I don’t know why I even have bridesmaids, nothing makes sense anymore. But make yourself useful and keep the champagne coming. Dress on.

Emotional eyes meeting me, my tears of sadness quickly replaced by tears of anger towards all the people looking at me.

Standing on that podium felt like forever. Shaking looking past people. Looking past my husband. He knows at this point, he always knows. And I can feel he’s devastated for me.

More champagne. Trip to the toilet, mirror, tears, woman up, champagne. I hated everyone. I fucking hated everyone. Even now as I’m writing this I feel the hate, I’m still so angry. I hate myself. I’m right back at that moment, tears blurring my screen. My body seem to not being able to let go of that day, etched on my memory forever. The trauma of going against my emotions to the extent that I did that day.. I don’t think my body will ever forgive me for that, for doing that. I should have stayed home.

The rest of the day I remember as a screenplay unfolded behind thick fog. A haze of champagne. And rage.

I don’t remember this speech. But I know it was half embarrassing, half funny. That’s what I do when I’m uncomfortable. I make jokes. And drink. I think most people experience their wedding-day through a haze, not remembering their speeches and whatnot. But not because they’re drunk due to self-loathing. If that’s the case I feel very sorry for you.

My skills of ignoring my emotions and living for others was really tested, and I’m not even proud of it. It wasn’t worth it and the cost was way too big. I would never have gotten married to the man I love if it stood between that day over again or never.

I remember nothing after the cake. Vague flashbacks from a full-blown panic attack on the bus on the way home at three in the morning. The best man helping my breathe. Waking up the next day wanting to die.

Silly, right?

I’m kinda proud actually.

by  on  in The life • 5 Comments

Just finished, ran back to the hotel room to watch it.

Yes, I’m very cool.

Slightly different socks, but then again have you met a sock after it’s first wash still with it’s original partner?

I think not.

Btw, I refuse to believe that I’m the only one to give as little shit as I do about my hair that maintenance and up-keeping boils down to the All-In-One soap they so kindly provide for you in the showers at hotels when traveling.

You’ve done the same… you’re not better.

This one.

Cuffed to the wall, it’s so amazing.

I’m feeling euphoric after the show and very happy that it went so well. At least I feel that it went well. There’s always so much more one wants to say. But I didn’t choke. I didn’t boil to death. Actually, maybe my skincare-line is working for me? I didn’t panic. I felt some familiar tears welling up a little bit at one point, but that’s fine. I don’t mind crying, it’s not uncomfortable. Certainly not dangerous. Like blushing, that can cause severe damage. I’ve heard.. Or, felt. Crying is fine though! I love people who cry. Unless you’re as unfortunate to find yourself in an angry-cry situation. That’s horrible and I wish it only on my worst enemies. Which are none.

For now.

Out for lunch soon and enjoying the afternoon in Oslo before heading home. Well done, Viktoria. You did something good. At least me and my mum think I did something good. Pretty sure the other one too. And the little one. And the first one. And that’s all you need, really. The one’s in your life.

Old photo, fitting vibe

by  on  in The life • 2 Comments

Doing an appearance on the morning show me and my sister did a couple of months ago tomorrow. In the hotel room now trying to go to sleep. I never think these things through ahead. There’s always something that I’m anxious about in my life. I started crying at the airport today over breakfast and fought a minor panic attack on the bus on the way to my friend for a glass of wine. For instance. If I was to think everything through ahead I’d never leave the apartment. There’s always a feeling in my stomach, chest, somewhere, that I have to brace myself. Life in general and the people in it will attack me. But I always try to ignore it. Don’t listen to it. I’m scared of blushing. Blacking out. Appearing stupid. Panicking -maybe I’ll have to get up and leave mid-interview (I know for a fact I’ll do some of those things tomorrow). So why start now? I feel so sick riding the bus on a bad day, so this.. At least people can sympathize. They can relate. Being on live television is scary. Riding the bus on the other hand, that separates you from a lot of people. Having coffee at a café, not everyone gets that that can feel like you’re feeling you’re dying.

Anyways. I have to get some sleep. I have some stuttering and blushing to do tomorrow and am very busy and important.

I’m also very grateful and excited. Very.

Broken feet but pancake to eat. It’s been a good week. See what I did there? I made a rhyme.

by  on  in The life • 4 Comments

Good morning Sun!

Just to show that, yes I lit a scented candle for myself in this almost mindfulness-worthy moment, I give you this picture.

Saying goodbye to the countryside today and this cheeky little world-marveling little one and going home to my long lost husband. Who’s been working away for the last two weeks. I didn’t abandon him.

It’s time to go. And it feels good. I need to get out of my shell and into the world. I thank my mum for letting me be a child again.

I sprained my ankle last saturday and have been very much in pain and agony since. It didn’t happen the way you’d think a graceful and professional athlete such as myself would sprain an ankle, it happened at three in the morning pushing my friend in a shopping cart wearing high heels. Needless to say my refined skill of keeping me self upright had left the building hours ago. Felt great.

So I’ve been limping, skipping, any form of degrading transportation really of the holy temple that is my body, around the whole week feeling sorry for myself. Luckily I love having physical pains as it perfectly fits my Struggling on the inside-profile. I feel good today though. I can almost walk without looking like a 90’s rapper, the blue shade has limited itself to only the outside of my foot and spirits are high. Only thing that really bothers me now is that I probably won’t be running in the nearest future.

Anyways! Balance is all about being able to not break when things challenge your normal outlets and joys for a period of time. If you’re in the process of health in the long run, breaks are only natural and necessary.

*scratches between eyebrows, leaves red mark for a week*

Oh! And my mum got me a new pancakefryingpan. That’s a word. Because I scrubbed away the top layer of my old one. It didn’t just burn. I gave it a chemical peel. So many rules for pots and pans nowadays. Like we didn’t have enough problems.

It made it’s big debut yesterday and it was fabulous.

So, HAPPY FRIDAY!! So much love, from me and hopefully from yourself, to you. May you feel as accomplished as I do regardless if you’re running up a hill or towards the pancakefryingpan. Hopefully you’re not working. Thats the worst and my heart goes out to you.

Dwelling willingly

by  on  in Beauty, Philosophy, The life • 16 Comments

I’ve moved back to the country for the week. Seems I was only visiting our own place for the weekend and felt my stomach drop by the thought of staying. The other one’s headed out for work today and’ll be gone all week and I seem to start leaking any fucking moment left on my own. So it seemed like a good idea.

All of my family is home. Which is so rare for many families. Not ours. And it’s a blessing and a curse. We all get into each other’s business. We all postpone whatever’s weighing us down on the great Outside. We only want to spend time together. That’s why it’s so hard for us to be alone I think. We’re so used to us being there and we’re so dependent on each other. When we’re together we feel stronger and happier, than we actually are even! Not that I don’t think I’m my true self when I’m with them, but it sure is a different self who greets the world. A smaller self.

I know I’d struggle alone these days. And am always pulled towards destruction. When dealt with stuff through destructive ways for so long -that’s the only way I’ve achieved control amongst all this mess. Plus it’s so much easier. Being happy takes a lot more work during these periods. I feel I’ve been ignorant and greedy for too long. I also think my dosage’s too low.. I don’t think one’s supposed to feel like this. Maybe I’ve done that willingly.

Anyway, the others will be up soon and I don’t want to dwell here any longer. Slap on a smile, fix that leak, and face this beautiful rainy day.

Here’s some more photos from the shoot with Julie Pike, for the A New Type Of Imprint copy.

My self-worth lies in my accomplishment ! #laughingandsobbingsimultaneously

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 8 Comments

As a full-grown human being I too suffer from bad conscience. I am not doing enough and what I am doing isn’t nearly good enough. Somehow we’ve made this into a female-thing, it isn’t. We just tend to talk about these things more. Like right now I’m supposed to be creative and passionate, but I’ve been staring at my toile (that’s a fabric sketch, a draft if you will, in the sewing world) for the last two hours trying to will it into becoming something ground-breakingly fabulous.

It isn’t.

On top of that I bought cheap honey, because they were out of the good stuff (no other reason), and I’m very serious about my honey as I am convinced it has healing powers and has an anti-inflammatory effect on life itself, and it really doesn’t taste the same. My breakfast was just not the same. And it’s not helping the situation. I feel like karma has struck again and the universe is telling me that at this very moment. I don’t deserve the good stuff.

I always believe I will be deserving when I’m working really hard on something. When I was at the end of my education for instance I thought to myself: When I finish this.. No one can say I’m no good. I will have proved to myself and everybody else that I’m a hard worker and that I am worthy of everything. (’cause it was a lot of work..!) When I’m done with this project, this collection, this garment, this obstacle.. I’ll KNOW, everyone will know that I’m confident in who I am and in my work.

I’m not. I’m never. I’m always terrified of the next move, whole world watching and ready to judge while I’m falling flat on my face. We’re never done, are we?

I’ve never met anyone who’s been done. Done proving their worth through accomplishments. Why is this ok? I get it, that we have to feel the lack of something to be able to push ourselves towards something more. If we were all content we wouldn’t move forward. Thing is though, I don’t personally feel the need to move forward. I’m not in any physical danger, at least not regularly. I feel relative comfort in life, I’m not scared of lacking anything -water, food, warmth, I’m able to get where I need to be when I need to, I have love and family, I am needed, I make a difference… I don’t need groundbreaking changes to feel happy in life, I really don’t. I admire those who do. The strivers. Always aiming higher. But I also think it’s ok to not be one of those persons. The stress and guilt that I’m experiencing, I believe, comes from others misjudging me for being lazy. Or stupid. Not contributing enough. Contentment being judged as a negative thing. And it’s really not. I think it’s seriously underrated.

A good movement is how social media is starting to rebel about this. Showing pictures of their cellulites #Goodenough. Food and drinks and vacations #You’reworthit! I do this myself in brief moments, mostly induced by cava surrounded by great people who dismiss all of my insecurities. But I am, and I know so many of the hashtaggers are as well, still not convinced when I’m left to myself. And they always do, these hashtaggers, come back with posts with texts on the subject of them too having doubts and feeling worthless sometimes.

I really feel that a lot of it comes down to the fact that we’re still shaming each other. People will always judge you from their own strong suits. And when that’s something you don’t excel at – then you’re worse than they are. If one person does crossfit five times a week, that person will judge someone of not making an effort or taking care of themselves if they’re only going for one 30 minute walk a week. Whilst that person may be completely happy with that! That person may save lives for a living. The crossfitter, who is she saving, huh??! Not even her own back!!

So, you know, measuring each other from our own stands makes no sense.

We should be allowed to be content with what we do do. Or, I mean, we are allowed. I just know I’m feeling like I’m constantly being reminded about the things I don’t do, I myself are comparing and am being being compared to what others are  doing. She did this and she’s doing great, why don’t you..? What is your next goal? What are you doing now? I know what you did yesterday, but shouldn’t you focus on what’s tomorrow..?

So tiering. Anyway. I think I need to step away from my toile and go back to the drawing board.

Went for a run. Always makes me feel stronger when I’m feeling weak. And I need to feel strong. Because I believe, I know I am GREAT at a lot of things. And that I am doing really well! I may not be feeling it today, but hey, I went for a run and made fabulous pancakes afterwards. Killer pancakes actually since they broke my favorite frying pancakes pan.

I’m OK. And so are you. Cry your tears, but know that it’s ok to be wherever you are. You’re already good.

CORTONA

by  on  in The fashion, The life, Wedding • 6 Comments

My husband, bless him, bought me this Victoria Beckham suit right before we left on our honeymoon. And I’m so proud of it. Never scared of using it though! One shouldn’t be. It’s only fabric put together in a certain, sometimes brilliant, way.

They only feel loved when used.

I think he wanted me to have it because he knows I never agree to go shopping when I’m traveling. Feels unnecessary to me. You’re already in a new country with new food, new smells, languages, customes, cultures and people -why spend your time and money on buying stuff you can buy anywhere? I’ll rather save those money for a day I really need or want something. Use my money on local tastes and sights instead.

Didn’t know I needed this suit, though..

This was our nicest stay by far. A vineyard in Cortona, Tuscany. Il Falconiere. With about 15 rooms or so situated in different small houses.

This. View from our room.

A little stroll amongst the grape trees to get to the restaurant / reception area.

Lazy afternoons by the pool. Our room in the closest buildings.

Ass looking perkier than my face. haha.

There it is.

The pool where they had this phone

I felt like they knew me.

The very essence of me.

This was considered room-service. The guy, poor guy, came sweating up the stairs (not to mention the stroll amongst the grape trees) carrying the damn table to our porch! Set the table and left after bidding us a good night. I sat there like an idiot in my robe, hair dripping from the shower. A little shameful, must admit. Felt filthy rich though.

Had to see the city of Cortona, located not far from the vineyard on the top of a.. mountain? hill? hillock? I don’t know. It was a mighty height (hand gesture in air with fist) in the otherwise flat land.

I just love these! Laundry hanging from everywhere.

Even more so, the DOORS. Swear, every single door in Cortona was beautiful.

The hotel (which we paid one third of the price for, otherwise ridiculous prizing) also had a Michelin restaurant. Of course. Which we’d read previous of arriving was unworthy of the star. It was. The chef was a real bitch, food was ok, it was good..! But if you’re a foodie; not impressing at all. Lack of passion in everyone presenting the different courses too. Which is one of my favorite things about fine dining. It’s an art, sell it to me! Love it, live it! Hearing them talk about the delicious complex dishes, beautifully presented -with great passion! They barely told us the main ingredient. And it rarely had perfect balance.

So that was disappointing. Still worth it. I know, I’m a snob. But food is big in my world. It’s my hobby. An expensive one, so it better be good.

So that’s Cortona! Really beautiful, but three nights was definitely enough if you’re restless like we are.

So, when does the punishment begin?

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 19 Comments

I asked my husband if he thought I was enjoying life a little too much. Our honeymoon in Italy was two weeks of total and utter heaven on earth. I’ll tell you all about that later. But now I’ve gone and rewarded myself further more by going to Oslo to see my friend. And live like a princess in my uncle and aunts apartment.

I’m being too kind to myself. Rulebook’s out the window and the shit’s hit the fan.

Here to illustrate is a picture of both.

And I’m hushing up that voice that wants to get his airtime. To punish me and restore order in my life. I’ve been flying too high for too long and need to get back down again.

I get that you’re thinking that you can’t be on holiday, in the clouds forever. I know. And it’s really sad. (Exception being you becoming a surfing instructor and moving to Bali permanently). But I’m not talking about that. You can be happy and work at the same time, you don’t need champagne and pools to be happy, obviously. Makes it a bit easier, but.. you know. I’m talking about the reward-system. I’ve lived on a reward-system for as long as I can remember, I don’t know if I’m able not to. We learn that we need to work hard to be able to earn and deserve the things that we want. And we do work for those reasons! Most of us. The rest of you need to get up off your asses and do something. Wash your car. I don’t care.

But, in all seriousness, we’re not meant to punish ourselves for being kind to ourselves and allowing ourselves to receive the good things in life. I heard someone, someone older (you know how they feel like they can tell you all kinds of shit because they’ve lived longer than you, lived through World War II and know everything), say that we’re not here to be happy. So stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re here to work. Bring new life to this world. Work hard, follow the rules, then life will be ok. Good, even. You’re not here for a reason. Just to.. what, get through it? Not here to find ourselves, our purpose and be special..?

I don’t feel that way. We obviously need to work, but the point is to be happy and make the absolute most of it. We deserve that.

I also know that we are just specks of dust. Present for an extremely short amount of time. Most of us won’t have a long-term impact on the planet. And those who do most likely don’t hate whatever it is that they were doing. They had to do it. They were born to do it. Their purpose was already written and within, and they wanted to do it. But most of us aren’t really all that important. To time and space, universe and humanity. Time and space don’t depend on you, therefore don’t care how you lead your life. If you followed whatever series of “rules” we made up. If you allowed yourselves to be happy or not. Only gave or only took. You’re not that big a deal.

So I, again and again, have to remind myself that no one cares if I’ve earned to be happy. More importantly, I shouldn’t. Be selfish! I’m so tired of obsessing over measuring myself and my life to allow myself to receive good things. W’e’re worth good things. And I’m really trying to fight, maybe I’ll wrestle like the gorgeous ladies of wrestling.., that voice in my head right now that’s telling me to make up for the damages I’ve done to my mind and body by being too happy lately. -The peace in my mind that means I’ve been enjoying far too long. Telling me I don’t deserve stuff before I’ve been really “good”, in pain. The not planning of, not making the puzzle and the mathematic pieces on how good and how bad I’ve been. The extra work not being done. The pile of laundry left. The pizzas consumed. The red wine with it. I actually freak out about the lack of alone-time because among all these people that I love , maybe I just can’t hear myself think. How am I really feeling about myself? How big is the damage? How much am I gonna hate myself when left on my own after this?

I don’t want to deal with this right now. Because I truly believe that we are here to be happy. Life is actually a gift. We are just here to live until you die. How and when and where is up to you. You can actually do anything with your life, you have that power. Just try to be happy. People can judge, let them. Everything else comes second. I tell my friends this! I always have. I need to tell myself this and really mean it. I know hanging out with my friends feels good. They don’t judge me like I judge myself. They can be my inner voice for a little longer. I’ll deal with The Voice a little later.

You.

 Luckily my husband is only two days away when I get back home. Those two days I’ll work hard. I swear. But I will eat more pizza too. I swear.

When you’re happy and you know it

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 21 Comments

Had an amazing trip to Oslo with the two second biggest loves of my lives. Did the Norwegian morning show (which I absolutely love and adore. God, I’m famous..) God Morgen Norge. HUGE milestone for me and very humbling. Especially me and the first one, because we don’t do much really. Other than what we can do and are educated to do, to soften the extreme world the little one has entered. She doesn’t really need us, but I think we make her life a little less scary. And a little bit more of a viking warrior queen on a quest to save the souls of those looking to be saved !

Wow, I really hope you read that in the sarcastic way I’m doing in my head. Feel free to add a cliché hand gesture to go with it.

Also did another interview after the morning show. Which I wasn’t mentally prepared for, so I took it out on the guy doing the interview. He was really sweet and not to be blamed. I’m lucky just to be interviewed, you know?? Viktoria??!

He forgave me though. This thunder of a woman.

Obviously talked about my favorite subjects. IN the world. Anxiety and mental health issues. And my sisters.

Even as I’m speaking about anxiety I rarely allow myself to accept my anxiety.. You know what I mean? As I’m talking about not fearing it I’m battling a storm on my inside to hide the fact that it’s happening right now..? How strange.

But this was actually a bit different. Maybe the morning show warmed me up. But no fucks were given after that. I was just myself and actually felt calm during this interview.. Maybe because I actually said what I meant. I don’t know, but I was relaxed.

Dis made me happy.

Oh, and I broke my phone and we missed our flight back home.

But that’s a different story.

Now I’m about to start packing for ITALY!!!! Leaving on Saturday, got my shit waxed today and feel ready for everything that comes my way! I’m so very much in love and love my life. I feel lucky. And I don’t believe in luck. So that’s lucky.

Surely, it must be me, though

by  on  in The life • 22 Comments

My husband told me a couple of days ago while we were out running together (yes, we’ve become that couple..) when I started hyperventilating and felt the panic and tears summoning its forces, initiating a full blown war in my throat, that I’ve been told so many of the wrong things over the years. Naturally when this panic strikes, all though not as often as earlier in my life, I tend to blame myself and react with sadness and frustration -embarrassment even. Embarrassment over the fact that I still am not able to control these situations. The fact that I’m still in these situations. Up until now running has been one of myfree-zones, and NO way I’m gonna let it take over it. That I can control. That was also one of the things I’ve been told. Not that I see the therapeutic value in it. Either you get rid of it by exposing yourself to the “danger”, confirming that it isn’t as scary as you built it up to be in your head. Or you just confirm what you already know in your body and minds memory, you will panic. And you must fight or flight.

Because I’ve been going to different psychiatrists and practiced several methods to cope with this shit I’m still every day faced with the fact that I might never be cured. I can always panic. Which everybody can, obviously. But everyone isn’t scared of it all the time. I am so tired. I even, still, have a hard time sometimes defining it as a panic attack whilst in the midst of one. Which is also one of the things I’ve learnt one should do..? (Great, you’re able to define the situation. Now what?) I believe I struggle identifying it because I’ve already put it in the box marked “the past” and can’t be bothered to deal with it any longer to be honest.

There are a lot of great therapists out there. There are a lot of average therapists. There are a lot of therapists that are great on some issues. There are a lot of bad therapists out there too. As there are teachers, painters, doctors, parents, people.. Then there’s the chemistry factor. Let’s not forget how big of a part this plays in a relationship. We some times just don’t get what some people want. We just don’t get how some people think or need. We talk different languages sometimes. Both literally and emotionally. Sometimes no one is to be blamed.. Other times people are just plain shitty. Failing as human beings coexisting with other human beings. But we tend to forget about this and look inwards at what we could have possibly done wrong..! What didn’t I understand? Why did I fail? How can I change?

It’s not you. It’s not me. Maybe I’ve just never met one who gets me.

We sometimes just don’t click with the other person. She rubs you the wrong way. It can be as little as his shoes.. Because how can one trust someone with down right ugly shoes? That’s what it’s been like for me for many years. I’ve been taught so many wrong things about myself and why I’ve struggled in life (just,, life, in general), that some ‘answers’ have actually worsened my condition. Like my anxiety and panic attacks, for instance. I have learnt absolutely nothing that works. Yet I’ve been taught a lot of different shit. Some of it real SHIT, actually! One of them even managed to question my very experiences of having panic attacks – question my whole anxiety!!! Probably based on that stupid form they fill out, when they tick off to eliminate OCD and all sorts of conditions, when I didn’t check off as regularly fainting and experiencing diarrhea after every incident. Which, again, makes me feel like a real loser (because I can’t even identify it as NOT me, but an anxiety disorder) in life when I still can’t handle myself in a respectable and healthy manner in different situations loosing my shit. Normal. As in not having had your life and whole identity turn 180 on you and now force you to go trough life seeing the world as a hostile place rather than safe.

Normal.

As I must be. Since I don’t shit myself every time I panic.

Maybe we’re all like this. Maybe we all have life-altering and at times crippling anxiety. But I know many people haven’t. I’ve asked. Several times. To ensure myself that I’m not weak. There is something inside my head that does make life a bit more harder.

I don’t know what my conclusion should be here. I just know that it felt really good hearing from someone who knows me the best, that this isn’t my fault. Felt really good. And that it made me believe even more (because I won’t stand for it and will settle for nothing in life) that there is something, someone, that’ll make it better.

That might be the conclusion, actually; Maybe it isn’t all on you?

When you look like an infant, yet you’re a grown-ass WOMAN

by  on  in The life • 23 Comments

I very recently, today actually, got a compliment on Instagram (poor girl, nay -young woman…, this is NOT directed at you, so many people do this, and it was wrapped up in a compliment. Which I’m grateful for <3). The comment said ‘babies’. Which was obviously meant as a complimentary remark stating that I was cute. Which she told me afterwards when I questioned it.

This was sweet of her. She saw a picture, liked it and -even bothered to take the time of her day to comment on a picture of me. I love that! Don’t get me wrong.

(Very scared now, can you tell? Of being perceived as an ungrateful bitch? Which I probably would have preferred actually over cute baby..

My problem is ‘babies’. This is not meant as ‘babe’ as you would call, I guess, a hot person..?, or that hideous name kids call each other nowadays, ‘bae’. 

Now these are all gross things to call a grown human being, but you would never use these terms to describe a baby. ‘Babies’ is clearly coming from the description one would use of those small ones. You know, what we enter the world as? What we were (not anymore) when we know nothing and need attention, love, being taken care of, looked after, provided for and shielded at all times. When we were babies.

I AM A WOMAN.

Now, if you’re reading this, girl who wrote that -this is, again, not aimed at you. This is a society issue. Now, personally, I have never called someone ‘baby’ (…..), but I am guilty of using the term ‘cute’ to describe a grown-ass woman.

…

We’re grown ups. We go through great pain and grow even more up (as already  grown-up women) when growing and birthing these new ones. These babies. That’s a lot of growth. We’ve worked very hard to get to that point. We’ve been educated all of our lives, from merely living. Studying, many of us. I don’t wanna be viewed as someone who pouts her lips and cries whenever my needs aren’t met. Someone beneath, smaller and more delicate than. Not to mention the sexualization we know happens of the ones underneath, emancipated, subservient in the industry and in society.

I don’t wanna be fucking cute. Nor forever-young! I don’t need to have baby-skin or sleep like a baby, because I’m NOT A BABY ANYMORE!! YOU BEAUTY INDUSTRY, YOU ! Do you know how many hours a baby sleeps a day?! I am a hard-working woman, I don’t have time or wish for that, I have ideas and shit and responsibilities to take care of. I love every year that I age, I wanna look it, feel it and be seen as it. I did that. I lived that. I earned that. I’m a woman.

I’m a warrior of life. And life is really tough! Hard enough as it is, I don’t need to walk around with people looking at me as a cute baby? How the fuck am I going to survive and be taken serious throughout this shit?!

You can call my outfits cute, I don’t really care what you call my actions or whatever.. But let’s not demean each other by calling each other what puts us lower than we really are. In work or socially, age, looks, bodies, brains -all of it.

To all women and men: today I salute the years we’ve worked for! And to the years yet to come -don’t spoil them!! We’re not babies anymore.

Cloaked in flowers and thunder!

by  on  in Beauty, Philosophy, The fashion, The life • 12 Comments

Wednesday. Midweek. Working intensely these days to be able to take half of Thursday and Friday off. The other two are moving so I was thinking I’d stand around drinking wine watching them carry their stuff around.

The weekend was great, as expected. I put my best foot forward as usual, the sun actually came out and we left the party (fairly) early. By (fairly) early I mean we didn’t stay to see the sun rise. It’s quite a crazy crowd. Who get crazier when they get together. Not that I’m better. Worse, probably.

Anyways.

Felt like I needed an extra confidenceboost and give a big Fuck you to my inner voices, so I went Frida Kahlo on the whole tropical theme.

What a woman. A woman of true grit. Larger than life, living fearlessly honest. With passion and drive, complicated love, open about her demons and aware of herself and the way she wanted to live her life.. Which I can relate to. Admire at the least. How ever composed I try to be at times, I do own the whirlwind of a woman that I really am. Like we heard in a movie once that resonated with the little one as a description of me; a woman cloaked in thunder.

I liked it.

Obviously intended to make hair ornament out of fresh flowers. Then again who has that kind of time. Bought some cheap plastic ones and tried to ignore for the entire evening that bullshit elastic band around my head. What am I, a child?

Embarrassing.

Maybe it was made for children..? Who cares.

I did, that’s who. But I’m over it now that the whole thing is over.

Ever graceful.

Packed wine according to how much weight I could carry, and off to the party.

(Also brought my self-made freckles because they’re so fucking cute)

Feeling extremely uncomfortable in my own skin these days ( read; fat. Yes, my eating disorder is still happening and is something I deal with and ignore on a daily basis. I am personally convinced I’ll have to for the rest of my life, and get quite agitated when people tell me otherwise), which resulted in me practically gulping down my wine. Because through carefully and at times quite painfully practicing the elimination method I’ve found this is the easiest, and worst, way to survive the present when the present is a bit shite. There’s no meditating the present away. Sorry. No time for mindfulness when you have social anxiety up to your elastic fucking band, possibly made of and for children, and have to meet and greet fifty people you haven’t seen in about nine years.

But I got away with it without any scandals. Other than a few small (I’ll say, but then again I’m cloaked in thunder) charming improprieties, topping the whole thing off with an actual couples dance of swing..! Which I thought was hilarious. I’d never do a dance class myself. No matter how impressed I was. I would just, never. Not even for our wedding we did. Just, no. Great fun though! When drunk. Channeling Frida Kahlo. Sure she’d enjoy it as well.

 I had a great time! Really. And the best of times always comes when newly experienced pain I find. The contrast is exhilarating. Intoxicating.

Happy Wednesday to you, take comfort in that the worst is over and it’s hopefully downhill from here!

Summertime.. and the living might not be easy

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 18 Comments

Since the sun came out and saved all of Norway’s inhabitants from depression, I’ve actually gotten a little bit of color on my body. This used to be important to me. You know those oils..? I don’t think any elaboration is necessary.

Since my sudden development towards rosacea this obviously had to change. Because the sun is skins enemy and all.  Which is maybe the one silver lining about this shit skin disease. Having to be reasonable in the sun. No spf below 30. Total sunblock 50 in face. If I’m very naughty I’ll settle for in 30 in my face and 15-20 on my legs at the end of summer. Bright sides: I probably won’t end up with skin cancer like wolverine did six times. I will look younger than those H&M swimwear models of 2012, in 2020. And hopefully have skin like a dolphin for the rest of my life.

Point! Being.. I have to fake my face a little. Body and face have to match folks. So go harder on blush and sun powder / lowlight than in wintertime.

And in 2017, when we’re all faking so much, everything seems to be the trend, it’s ok to fake freckles, right?

I do. This year I have a little bit freckles. Not every day. But some days.

That’s the beauty of summer, Spontaneity. Being playful. Take yourself a little less serious. Being outside not having to meet other people’s eyes. ‘Cause your behind the safety of sunglasses. There’s barbecues. Swimming..

But when this isn’t the case, when summer isn’t beautiful, summer can be very harsh. It’s hard not to notice your own lack of excitement over the warmer weather causing other people to be happier and socializing more than usual, when it’s all everyone else ever talks about. Drinking rosé at unreasonable hours. Flirting shamelessly with waiters named Fabrizio.

I’ve had summers like this. Spent behind closed porch doors. Blinds shut. Crying behind sunglasses. No ice cream.

Only relief of everyone being outside playing is that you don’t have to feel bad about not being productive in your little cave. That you have built. With your own two hands. Inside. Well, most of us have some sort of summer holiday and don’t have to be productive work-wise for a period of time, I’m talking more of the “hey, what’d you do today?” -kind of productive. I don’t know what’s going on in the land of the free -they seem to be working all the time? Also in my profession we get to feel bad about not being productive all year round <3

BUT! You can throw this thought away. ‘Cause what all the happy idiots did all day was most likely messing around getting sunburnt, eat, drink and take their clothes off. For various reasons. So fuck that, you just finished a whole fucking series on Netflix! And ice cream isn’t just for eating outside in the sun. C’mon..

I try to find joy in the sun-rays piercing through my window shades the days that I do stay in for various reasons. To work. Or worse…

I find pleasure in the knowledge that I know that there’s so much life growing outside and that I don’t have to worry about other people, they’re occupied enjoying life. Time can stand still for a while.

But I always think about the ones feeling down when I myself am feeling good. And we all know it gets worse when everyone else is happier than usual. Celebrating the life you might not be able to even stand. It’s a horrible place to be in.. What makes it even worse is the isolation. Feeling lonely is not to be taken lightly. Some statistics show that not having social connections can be as harmful as smoking or obesity..! And isolation is so much easier to achieve or experience during the holidays.

So we have to try to see each other. Try to reach out. Maybe think about someone who’s had a rough time leading up towards the holiday. Are they attending social events on Facebook? Has anyone seen this person for a while? Are you taking over the whole Instagram feed with photos of FOOD, WINE, HOLIDAYS, PARTIES, TRIPS, EXHILARATING NEW EXPERIENCES, WINE, FOOD, TANNED RIPPED BODIES, HAPPY COUPLES, FRIENDS. Social media is on steroids during summertime. Is he or she posting anything? And did you remember to invite them?

I know these aren’t really good advises. If someone’s in pain a pool party isn’t going to help much. But sitting inside not being invited or noticed isn’t either. So let’s remember to remember that not everyone is as happy as you and may need a hand <3

Free the nipples, breasts -FREE IT ALL THIS SUMMER!

by  on  in Philosophy, The fashion, The life, The skin • 11 Comments

I actually wrote long ago I didn’t quite get the whole Free the nipple movement. I’ve always felt quite free in the breast- and nipple department, going to the beach topless for example. I stopped wearing a bra around sixteen.. In 2006. I remember people paying attention to it for a second, one person even called me Vici-nipple actually. But when you yourself treat something like a natural thing, not giving people the reaction they hoped to get out of you (never do -hold your ground), they soon lose interest and move on to the next subject.

(I’ve always written Vici btw, since I discovered this pattern of name-calling when I was four. So it’s always been Vici. Not Vicky, or anything else).

So I’ve never actually cared, therefore I didn’t get involved in the movement. I realize now everyone hasn’t been able to walk around so  freely. So Power to it, Free The Nipple!! I always felt I have the right to wear whatever I wanted, show just as much as I felt like. To love my breasts and everything about them. I also, still do, feel a sort of empowerment wearing something that accentuates them in a natural way. Be that something slightly see-through, something really tight, something loose fitted to let my perfectly natural shaped breasts chill the fuck out and breathe freely. You may experience some people having trouble keeping their eyes off of your breasts, with them hanging there freely and all, getting quite uncomfortable, not being able to stop staring at your natural and free nipples.. Something I personally really enjoy. People have been making me uncomfortable since I was sixteen.. Here’s my artillery, staring right back at ’em! But even though turning a head or two -keep at it! If that’s your chests’ and hearts’ desire, toss that bra! I know I’ve never looked back.

Anyways.. here’s a couple of pictures I think are beautiful as hell!

Ok I realize this last one, she is wearing some sort of bra here on her wedding day. But she’s SUCH a role-model and gets another picture. The fabulous, Hanne Gaby Odiele :

Flags risen and wieners consumed. Pop, pop, pop!

by  on  in The life • 14 Comments

17th of may.. Best day of the year. That and Christmas Day. And my birthday obviously. Basically any day one can celebrate from morning till bedtime.

17th’s special though, cause it’s the only day of the year where it’s perfectly respectable to dress up in your very best straight outta bed (preferably your national suit), drink champagne and have cake for breakfast. And we continue this celebration of ourselves and our fantastic fjords, glaziers, king and country until we fall asleep. It’s charming to the point of disgusting. You can only imagine thousands of daydrunk deteriorated vikings in our national suits (most expensive outfits ever -don’t get me wrong, they’re beautiful), singing national anthems, waving our little flags whilst queuing up for the mandatory legend of a sausage, the wienerpølse, before calling it a night at ten o’clock.

Love it.

Go, Norway!

I actually baked breakfast-rolls and made two cakes. No biggie. Because that’s what you do on the 17th.. You go big. You big out.

We kept it small this year -last year we hosted champagne-breakfast for twenty-two people. Which was fun. We broke in our new furniture which in hindsight I’m grateful I was tipsy for.. But I didn’t get to enjoy the morning as much and felt like I didn’t have a full ten minute sit-down or talk with anybody. So this year it was only us girls and, of course, our prince and hero. My husband.

How handsome is he?!

She’s not bad at all either.

This. Ah.. nothing like the first pop o’the day! First out of seriously six bottles. Shared! Obviously -it’s breakfast, jeez.

YES.

That’s all I managed to get from the day. Once the bottle’s popped, and all.. We had a great day though and ended up at the carnival in the rain, screaming happily for our lives through a deep, deep cava-haze. Obviously also had a big hot-dog before bed.

Did I mention we bought a car btw? Not in the same cava-haze, a different day. I’m dying of excitement and prepared to give up all fancy food (maybe not all) and champagne (cava still allowed) for a great period of time! Luckily I don’t have the habit of spontaneous large-quantities-of-fast-fashion-shopping, so that’s not an issue, thank the universe..! We’re picking it up on Wednesday and she’s just about everything we were hoping for! She’s a girl, obviously.

A girl with a temper. Like no one I know.

…

Alone together

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 10 Comments

Today’s been a sixteen hour day of work. Feels good. Even managed to take a little care of myself at the end of it all, move my body a little bit. Take a shower. Before I dove into the peanut butter, tea that promised me more than anything has ever done, and my moms homemade rolls. The real kind of peanut butter. Fyi. Not the organic stuff. Tried that once and I’m never falling for their words, however seductive, anymore. I’ll have my peanut butter with too much salt and the wrong kind of oil thank you.

Anyways. It’s the first time I sat down today and look

how beautiful the sun is shining through my dirty glasses and in to my living room.

It’s been raining all day..

Even my jewelry-hanger is waving the sun goodbye before we turn our back to it.

I am so serene.

Seriously, I just typed ‘yoga music’ on youtube and hit play.

This calm makes me so happy I want to dance in this sassy little number. Summer edition of my.. huge pajamawear-wardrobe.

It’s weird how things get into your head though. How people get into your head. How they treat you. What they tell you.. How incredibly easy it is for it to get stuck. You start believing it. Maybe it stirred something up or pushed a sensitive spot. Even the things that we’ve gone through over and over and over in our heads we know isn’t true about ourselves. You build and build up your confidence and your ability to convince yourself otherwise. Hoping to learn how to shrug it off. Believe that your worthy of it. And then one person can tear it all down in a matter of seconds.

We wanna look so tough. So untouchable. We want to be so cool. Above it all. Tenacious. We want to acquire all these superpowers whilst appearing careless..!! You just happened to be that impenetrable, you didn’t work for it. Are you working for it? Why do you care? -just don’t care?

But we aren’t. None of us. We have to work at it. We are all working hard at it. I, for one, don’t know how often I have to remind myself this. It’s not cool not to show emotions. Be affected by others. It’s in our DNA to be affected by each other. Nobody want’s to be with cool. Cool won’t hug you, understand and listen to you. Cool doesn’t care. Cool is cold.

So, on this serene evening with myself, I remind myself of what’s been getting at me lately. How it’s ok to be affected by it. I accept this part of myself. This weakness in my armor. A little tear. I know why it affects me. And that’s ok. It doesn’t make it true, nor does it make me feel any better.., if anything I feel sad for the other party making others feel worse about themselves. I don’t want to make anybody feel worse about themselves.

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to the rest of us. Know that I’m not cool at all. I’ll listen if you need me to. We’re all in this alone together.

Life would be so much more fun if we were all rich and crazy wasn’t inconvenient?

by  on  in Beauty, Philosophy, The life • 32 Comments

Turns out… On meds I’m only an average person. With an averagely amusing life. I’m fucking bored out of my mind. Talked to my husband about it, disappointingly he had nothing helpful to say besides welcoming me to his side. He’s been bored his entire life.

I need to fucking do something soon. Start a band or something. I know someone with a band and she’s never bored. She’s longing to be bored.

I’m not musical, though.. Maybe I could become a sommelier. Just casually. Become a master of the Wines. But then I’d have to drink with (and much less than) the people I would be speaking Wine in front of. And you don’t speak Wine, you drink it. So that’s out.

I honestly don’t know what to do with myself. Guess the reasonable thing would be to try to get used to this new way of life. Hike more. Cook more. Read more. Stuff I already enjoy.

Like work.

Aaah, still got the sense of humor, though. I’m not gonna work more.

Rather be sitting here in this magical lighting blogging about how my self-taught, home schooled  sommelier-education is going.

…

Ok, I’m laughing now. And yes, it’s past eight o’clock. Obviously I’m in my pajamas with that make-up free radiant face we all know so well from the commercials.

Enjoying the work that I’ve have been doing, though. But mostly I’m enjoying planning / dreaming of our honeymoon coming up in a couple of months. We’re not big planners really, took us like two months to plan the whole wedding. But we’ve started thinking about it. We’re thinking about driving.. My only concern with this plan (obviously his plan to start) was the lack of sexy in us arriving Italy by car. Our car. It’s a mitsubishi, something -whatever.

But we were gonna rent one and drive through Italy anyway, though.. So we decided to start looking for a new one. I know, we’re two big brats with shiny ball syndrome. But our car really is a boring car.. There it is’ again! Reasonable. Average. Family. Booooring. Ok family isn’t boring, but having a family-friendly car whilst being childless newly-weds is boring.

I haven’t been this excited about a car since the first time I saw Nicolas Cage riding Eleanor like Angelina in gone in sixty seconds.

God damn.

That is one sexy man in one sexy car.

(say what you will about Nicolas Cage -I love him and think he’s a spectacular actor)

We’re not getting a mustang though. That would be too unreasonable. And we’re not nearly as old to be acting that childish.

Point is. And here it is. Already struggling to listen to myself here.. We’ll just have to try harder. Pack a fucking picnic-basket with home-made whatever you like and invite a friend to the park. Whatever green’s close to you. Hike. Learn something new. Read. Make something, fucking paint! sew, build -whatever. I don’t know.. Learn MMA!

I seriously doubt I’ll do any of those things.

Maybe I’ll just get pregnant.

After the summer.

Curveballs and buttons in holes

by  on  in The life • 7 Comments

Always the brand new one.

So you scrape up the remains of what once promised to protect you, that didn’t touch the floor or sink. And remind yourself that nothing in life is certain and sometimes life throws you a curve ball and you suddenly have to step it up when you least expect it. This! Is small stuff. Laugh it off. Cover up that red shocked face with some floor.

Floorfoundation.

And this? This looks like a normal kitchendrawer basking in the sun. Open, hiding nothing.

It’s not. It’s not better than the rest of us.

It’s got secrets and shames involving crushed dreams, this time pancakes. Topped with maybe my least favourite smell.

Yolk.

But, hey, I’m woman enough for this shit. I’m not surprised over these things. That’s what you get out of twenty seven years of cutting corners being efficient as fuck.

And… it’s all good! I just spent three delightful perfect days in Oslo with my friend staying at one of the few hotels I really feel I belong at in Oslo, dis one. She’s also one of the few people I really feel I belong with.

Ugh, always the jacket. Always winter -never Christmas.

Now I’m gonna fill ma last holes in the littles ones dress with buttons and hooks. Before Oslo, again, tomorrow. What a domestic jetsetter I have become indeed. This dress will be a tick off my long list of stuff I have to do. So for a brief moment I’ll live my life like I’m done forever. I’m done with working and retire from everything.

For a brief moment.

So excited now that the holiday’s are over. A true freelancer’s life.

by  on  in The life • 7 Comments

ONE nice day in Bergen this easter. We ran immediately to the city and washed down some extremely average burgers with some not so great rosé. But what don’t you do for a nice rooftop on a day like that? Bergen has a limited outdoor-offer when it comes to restaurants..

Gee, that’s really not doing me any favors, the kissing thing? I never do the kiss in pictures. Because I’m not sixteen nor do I feel the need to behave in such a manner. I don’t know what hit me really. The rosé? A mild sunstroke?

Have to brag about this jacket. Can’t help it. It’s Alexander McQueen and it’s very very expensive. I didn’t pay for it, obviously. It wasn’t even a gift intended for me. But for now, let’s say that it’s mine and I can afford shit like that.

You’d think it was warm but it’s not. Wind blowing straight up and in past your private parts.

Me walking away from those facts.

I really need to go to the shoemaker..

My husband. He loves the sun just as much as I do.

I have a really exciting week ahead of me!

Working on a dress for the little one for a very special concert coming up in Oslo.

Shooting two of the coolest artists Scandinavia has to offer, styled by me in Fårikål outfits.

A trip to Oslo on Wednesday for a couple of days to visit a very dear friend of mine..

Yay! Then it doesn’t matter if the sun shines or not. It won’t. I checked.

Easter-princess. In balance.

by  on  in The life • 5 Comments

I’m working. How depressing. In the holidays. Which is typical me. Because I can never do anything before I’m forced to by deadlines holding me at gunpoint.

But it’s fine! As my eternally positive husband stated earlier today; we’re so lucky to be able to do stuff when everyone else is working!

True.

But I’m a millennial and therefore convinced that the world is against me, it is hard and I deserve better.

That said.. My medicine is working it’s magic and it seems my body has finally accepted them. As apposed to treating it as hostile foreign objects trying to steel my personality. Which is fantastic! I’m happy, things are easier. I feel lighter. It feels right, and life isn’t so hard anymore. It’s absolutely terrifying. And I can, for the first time in my life, understand why people go off them. Obviously not going to, but life is more boring on this side. I miss the feeling of being on a high (which is what we remember, right -the good stuff, never the bad. Stupid hoomans), and am seriously considering drugs. I’m joking, obviously. But you only know what I’m talking about have you ever had a day like that. But I’ll settle for normal and healthy balance! For now. Haha, joking.

Or am I..?

I am.

Anyway, I’ve worked all day, and am presently enjoying some holiday-like behavior. (Notice easter-candles and easter-socks knitted by my grandmother)

Obviously reading Victoria. You know, that other princess?

 So.. this was boring. Book’s not, this post! But that’s my life now. That’s me now. Like that bunny filter on snapchat.

Knowing myself I’m sure I’ll manage to feel euphoria and get in trouble again.

Happy easter! Do like this boring but balanced broad and read a book. Drink some red. Eat some candy.

(I would’ve dropped mic here, but am no longer on a stage, therefore not holding one)