I’m 25, and I don’t know how that happened

I haven’t visited wordpress in such a long time, and then tonight I got the idea to check back in and read some of my old posts. And then as I figured I’d try to write something it dawned on me that I am 25.

… And anyone reading this probably read it straight-forward. I am 25. But you can’t do it like that. You have to read it with intent. I. am. twenty. five. 25!

And anyone who knows me, the way I know me, which basically is just me, will know that that’s quite a ginormous accomplishment. (But now all you other people know too because I told you.) I barely believe it despite writing it, and despite contemplating it. I am 25! And I never thought I’d live to see 22. Or 23. I remember writing sad notes, and diary entries how I swore I’d never live to see my 22nd birthday. Not to be dramatic, but because I truly believed that my heart would never continue to beat for so long. It was inevitable that I’d die within a short period of time. But I didn’t only become 22, or 23. I’m 25! And it’s a miracle! Or … I could say it’s a miracle. But then again, this isn’t God’s work, it’s my work. And it’s been hard work. The hardest work.

And this is probably the point where I should say that everything is better now, and that I finally see the light in the end of the tunnel, and that it was all worth it because it made me into the person I am today, and how I did it and bladifuckingsda. But I’d be lying. And I don’t lie. I try not to. The painful truth is better. Because the mask is hurting us. The truth is I still think about dying, a lot. The truth is I still struggle a lot with relationships and believing I’m worth something, and deserve to live and have a good life. There is no light in the end of the tunnel, but I’ve stopped looking at it as a tunnel. It’s just now, and sometimes there’s light. I think it won’t ever be worth it. Ignorance is bliss and I’d choose that every day, even if it meant I wouldn’t be a particularly contributing person in the world or society. Thinking is my downfall. But luckily also what makes me keep going, and makes me untangle some of this mess.

I am 25! And no matter if the reason that I’m awake right now is because I’m thinking of hurting myself again, and of just dying already (!), taking a moment to reflect over that achievement in the light of my suffering the last … in light of the suffering and trauma trough-out my life is warranted. I am 25. I. am. twenty-five. And I’ve laughed, and I’ve smiled during the last four years. And I’ve never felt the love, life and laughter reach all the way inside – I’ll admit that, I’m still “apart” – but I have laughed! And it’s more than I thought was possible.


Why do people post images of their fresh self-harm wounds? It’s irresponsible and I wish you would stop.

Hey, so lately I’ve become aware that quite a lot of people post images of the cuts they’ve just inflicted upon themselves online, and in their blogs. And this has caused me to have some serious ranting monologues in my head. I really felt the urge to ask the people doing this as to WHY!?! because it really baffles me, but I figured I might come off offensive and hurt someone, and ended up writing this here in stead. I’m very curious as to why people do that, and if you do and have an answer please tell me, I want to understand. But no matter what the reason I really don’t think that’s OK one bit, and the following will be a rant about that behavior and what I think about it. If you do this and know you’ll be offended go away (or stay and change!), because I’ll be critiquing it, and I’m not gonna apologize for it.

First of all I wanna say that I don’t think anyone should judge others for their self-harm, it’s your own body and your self-harm mostly affects you. I really wish you didn’t do it, but I’m not about to criticize someone for choosing that way of surviving the terrible mental pain you must be in. This is about flaunting images of fresh cuts and wounds openly on the web, with no form of warning or giving people any opportunity to chose not to take part.

    You do know that writing about self-harm can be triggering, but pictures is even more triggering. And most of all pictures of fresh wounds, and the action of cutting oneself are triggering. When you post a picture of your wounds you trigger other people that has not asked for it, people that might be struggling with the same, or people that are in a desperate situation and need relief.
    You subject them to a trigger to behavior that is unhealthy and dangerous. You don’t only choose to subject yourself to this, you subject strangers online to it, without their consent. Kids can see it. And grow-ups that know they’re in the danger group for leaning towards this kind of coping mechanisms. You don’t give them the opportunity to keep themselves safe. If I go online and search up pictures of fresh cuts, that’s my bad, that’s my responsibility and no one can be faulted for that but myself. But when I am searching the web for blogs to read about different subjects, I should be able to do that without having cuts pushed into my face. I should be able to sit safely in my living room keeping myself and hypothetical kids safe from seeing self-harm wounds.

I do believe we have a responsibility for our peers and our fellow world travelers. I do believe that every human being should strive to not hurt others and impair other people’s lives. And posting images of self-harm wounds, and cuts, does that exact thing. I believe you can do better. And if you don’t do better, if you knowingly subject another human being to this pain you are irresponsible and a bad person. (Yes, I said it, a bad person.) The pain being inflicted through an image like this doesn’t make it OK, or less bad than inflicting pain in other ways. You should know that it’s triggering, and that it’s harmful, and if you know and still do it it’s just as bad as other forms of actively hurting others. We all live our lives, thinking about ourselves, but doing what is right for us, good for us, should not be done at other people’s wellbeing’s expense. We have a right to a place in this world, to resources and happiness, but not if it’s from hurting others.

I realize that one of the reasons for doing this might be wanting attention, hurting, and needing desperately for someone to see. I don’t devalue this. Everyone needs attention, and sometimes we are so alone that we chose the means at hand (for instance posting an image of a new cut). But even if this is the reason, it’s not alright. There are other ways! You getting what you need and want should not come at the cost of other people hurting. I think we all should be responsible and chose not to be a person that does this to others.

Writing and speaking about self-harm can be meaningful, can teach people, give them more perspective, and help them understand their loved ones, or themselves. It can help them change a bad coping strategy or make them feel less alone. But even writing about this subject in a detailed manner should come with a warning, so that the people that know they are at risk of being triggered can choose for themselves if they wanna take part, if they wanna subject themselves to it. No one should choose that for another person, and we should have enough compassion for people to give them the choice. But pictures of fresh wounds and cuts, I see no reason whatsoever how this can be positive to share with the world. Pictures of fresh wounds can’t like words about them be meaningful, they can’t teach people, give them more perspective or help them understand their loved ones or themselves. Pictures of cuts cannot help them change a bad coping strategy or make someone feel less alone. It can only hurt.

So why? Why do you do this? Why do you choose to take away someones freedom to protect themselves from harm by without warning shoving a picture of a fresh self-harm wound/cut in their face? Why do you feel the need to show your pain in a way that hurts others?

Please don’t! Use the web to rant, and complain, and yell and scream out your misery and pain. Use the web to express how desperately you need someone to see you. How incredibly much it hurts! Use the web however you like, as long as you don’t actively and knowingly hurt others in the process. And to me, posting images of fresh self-harm wounds can never be anything but just that. It’s cruel, vicious and unacceptable. So please, don’t do it. And if you have to, don’t do it where I can see, or kids can see, without any warnings.

– Marie

Hello no-one, this is Marie

So! 9 months ago I was starting over with  a new blog, that is now being deleted. Because I bombed. I got caught up in life and logged off. And now when I came back I just didn’t have any ownership over the new blog, while this one, that’s been here for years, still felt like MINE.

I also realize that starting over is for every. fucking. day. Every day I get the opportunity to make something of the hours that lies ahead. I don’t need a new blog for that. I evolve, and I take with me bad and good from the past, and then I start over, and continue, all at the same time. I remembered what was the base for this blogs title “on my way”, it’s so simple, I’m on my way, I’m always on my way. Moving. And yes, let’s get started, baby, let’s start believing in our futures. Let’s not let depression get the best of us. Let’s believe that the way we are on can be filled with hope and happiness, laughter and exclamation points!

I guess I found that let’s get started baby was kinda wrong, because I started this a long time ago. I started working and fighting a long time ago, even if it wasn’t with an exclamation point then. Back then the fighting was slow, but steady. But still, it’s not like the renewed hope in my life becoming more than a sob-story makes the fighting begin now. So yeah, I do hope that the way ahead is optimistic and fun and filled with energy and vigor, as “Let’s get started, baby” was an expression of, but still, it’s connected with me, and my past, and I’ve always been on my way.

XO, Marie

Forever is just a minute to you

Why do people lie? Why do they say “forever” when what they mean is “until something better comes along”?

And no, losing someone you love is not the end of the world. Being left out is nothing compared to war and famine. But missing the bus by a second is still missing the bus. I could ask questions about why there is war and why people don’t share the wealth, those questions need to be asked as well. But I’m not gonna ask that tonight. I’m gonna ask why do people lie?

Why do they change into the people they swore they’d never become? Why do they start acting like someone new while denying it even to themselves? They look into your eyes and tell you how nothing’s changed, but the truth is everything has changed. But what does that mean? Are you of so little worth to them that they don’t even notice how things have changed? It’s hard to believe that the excuses are really reasons and not excuses cause through your eyes and with your ears they’re so clearly not reasons. How can they not even realize that the lies they feed you aren’t even any good, or believable at all? Why do they keep saying “us” when it’s not us anymore it’s “them”? Why do they say “forever” when it’s not?

I know I sound a little butthurt in this piece, and I guess I am, a tiny bit butthurt. But I swear I’m not as bitter as I sound. I’m feeling disappointed in a friend of mine, but it’s nowhere near what I wrote … And I hope it won’t become this bad either. I figured letting some steam would help me not to hold a grudge, crossing my fingers! I do wonder this though. Have you ever been left behind? Share a little!

– XO Marie

My mind is a disco ball, I need to get off this trip

When I went to bed tonight something strange happened. I turned off the ceiling light and on my way over to the bed I was filled with terror. Not anxiety or the feeling of being uncomfortable, but terror. I got scared. It occurred so suddenly. I felt like the seconds before I could get my bedside lamp on were lasting for forever. As I turned the lamp on I sighed heavy with relief. The fleeting moment of terror was gone, I had no answers to why it had come so suddenly anyways but it was gone and was soon forgotten. I was checking my phone and reading random stuff and I figured the light could just as well be off, after all I didn’t need it for reading on my phone. So I leaned over and switched the lamp off, and then before my head could reach my pillow I was filled with the same terror again. I lay breathing heavily for a while, not understanding what was wrong with me! My pulse rate went up, and I got dizzy, and for the life of me I couldn’t get why I was feeling so scared all of a sudden. It hit me then: I was scared of the dark!

Now I lie here with the door open, so bright kitchen lights can reach me. I’m somehow still a little shaken, but I’m feeling better by the second. I have this strange feeling of the world spinning and I absolutely cannot understand why I should be afraid of the dark!? I’m 22 years old, I’m a grown up and I haven’t been afraid of the dark since never, so why should I be afraid of it now!?

I simply can’t answer that question, I have no idea what’s going on with me. The strangest sensation of falling and the world spinning is taking ahold of my concentration. We don’t exist and somehow all of this really makes me want/need to cut. Woah! I’m gonna fall out of myself! Some stitches sure sounds sweet right now. Plus I don’t think I can handle dissociation right now. I’M SCARED. I’m afraid of the dark. Somebody help me.

A suicidal mind, unfiltered

This is what I think: Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die. Die, die, die. Die. Die. Die. DIE. Die! Die, die! Die, die, die, die, die, DIE! For fucks sake, die! Die already, just die. Die, die, die! I wanna die. My stomach hurts, I wanna die. Die, die, die, DIE! DIE. Do you hear me? Die. Just die. Just die. Die! Just die, just die. Gah, just die. I’m so tired, I just need to die. I have to die. Stupid piece of shit, you deserve to die! Go die asshole. Die, okay? Die.

Important note: This is directed to no one but myself. All you people out there thinking you can’t take anymore, you can. You will get through this. Stay strong, hang in there. Live, just a little while longer now, just a little more. I believe in you and your ability to get through this and I believe in your happy ending somewhere on the other side.