4 things to do instead of hurting yourself

These are 4 things to do instead of hurting yourself. Some things that I (whom is not a professional or anything near that) think is healthier than hurting, and more constructive. Try to choose the things in life that will help you finding a better, safer life, instead of the things that keep you stuck, and bring you down.

  1. Call someone.
    I know you probably don’t want to talk about it with your friends. You don’t wanna let them see how fucked up you really are. You don’t wanna burden them, or make them worry. You definitely don’t want to tell your parents, or family, that’s even worse than friends. They’ll make a fuzz. So I get this, but call someone still. Call a hotline, call a help-line, call a friend and talk about the weather. Tell them you’re having a hard time, and just needed someone to forget all about it with.
  2. Do something different.
    When I write “different”, I don’t mean something different from hurting yourself, I mean something different infinite. Something you usually don’t do. Go outside, even if it’s 3 am and windy. Obviously this isn’t possible if there are laws against it, or it is dangerous. But where I live, going outside in the middle of the night is 99.9999% safe, and the only thing that weighs against it is the “but I can’t do that!”-norm. But you can. Pretend it’s winter and just 5pm. There are no laws prohibiting going for a walk in the middle of the night. Or taking photos of the moon, or somewhere nearby in the middle of the night. Eat out even if it’s the middle of the month and nothing to celebrate. Bake a cake even if it’s no one’s birthday. Write someone a letter. Eat ice-cream in bed, for breakfast. Drink lots of coffee in the evening. Just do something different. And yeah, it might not be healthy, it might not be good for you, at least not on a regular basis, but it will be better than hurting yourself. (And hey, there are so many different things, that can still be healthy, and good for you!)
  3. Be someone else.
    A professional would maybe say that this plays into the de-realization or de-personalization, but I don’t know that it does, so I can’t say that. What I will say is, have fun! Pretend, and act like you are someone else. Like you are someone valuable, loved! (You already are, but maybe you don’t think so, so act like you do.) Act whomever you want, choose someone fun. If you think that person would wear sunglasses, and dress up on a regular Tuesday, you do that. Buy a double macchiato to go, and zip it like you’re a superstar. This might be a hard thing to do, but make an effort, and at least it’ll fill up your time, and make it pass, and suddenly it’s another day, another week, another month, and maybe things are better.
  4. Feel it. Feel the pain.
    This isn’t pleasant. This is the most terrible. And probably why we hurt ourselves in the first place, because we don’t know how to survive the pain if we feel it. But try to do. Accept that you will be crazy emotional, feel drained, and feel like everything is hell, and know that it will pass. In an hour, or two, you’ll have gotten through it. Write it down while you experience it, just ramble. Cry. Let yourself cry.
    But while doing this one, be safe. Don’t go into things that are harder, start easy. And don’t resolve to hurting when it is to hard, you are stronger than that, and I belive in you.

Beauties, you might not see it, but someone else does: you are valued, worth it, enough. Treat yourselves as you would treat a good friend. And if you fall, just get back up again. I’ve fallen I bet over a thousand times, but I’m still around. Let’s get started, baby.

Love, Marie


What am I gonna wear?! How to fake a smile!?

It’s been 919 days since my last day of school. Two and a half years. That’s a long time, at least for someone my age. I dropped out in the middle of the year. At first it wasn’t even dropping out it was just a break, sick leave. But then the school year ended, and I hadn’t had the opportunity to come back yet. I guess that makes it dropping out.

 This was some kind of boarding school, and it was at night it happened. Some friends of mine was worried, and it ended up with the house matron (wtf, this doesn’t translate very well) calling an ambulance. So I rode into the dark winter night with a colorful summer dress on, I didn’t even bring socks or a toothbrush or even my phone. I suppose this was the start of the hospitalization-hell that became my life the following years.

Since this happened school’s been so far away from my life. I haven’t been heading anywhere. Or that’s what it’s felt like at least. It’s been 919 days since my last day of school, but tomorrow I’m starting again. And hell I don’t feel like I’m heading anywhere now either. This course I’m taking is far away from studying full-time, or even half-time. I’m not gonna be something at the end of this. But if I take a moment to think about what I’ve just written … If I give myself some slack and acknowledge the struggle therapy and getting better is: Oh hell yeah I’m heading somewhere! The few hours I’m gonna sit in that library tomorrow is more than enough proof that this isn’t only hospitalization-hell anymore.

It’s definitely still a struggle, but now there’s another side to it as well. Wish me luck.

Being walked all over by the people who’s supposed to help

Edit note: This is long, but please take the time. I wanted to call this post: Nurse from hell, but I realized I’m not that rude. I’m just very depressed.

Writing this, I found that there could be some misunderstandings as things work a little different over here than in America, and other places, so just to avoid misunderstandings, I’ll try to clarify … and you’ll learn about the medical system in Norway, hurrah! Okay, so in Norway we have Akutten and Legevakta which both translates to the ER, but they’re different. The Akutten is for those who come in an ambulance, and need immediate help, but the Legevakta (literally translate: on-call-doctor I think!)is for people who come on their own, that don’t need immediate-immediate help, but still can’t wait until the regular hours, like stitches, or if they suspect concussions, or if someone has a bad case of the flue, stuff like that. You get the drill.

I went to Legevakta yesterday. I was bleeding a lot and I needed some stitches. I left my phone at home, so I wasn’t able to call and make an appointment, or say that I was coming, but I’ve come on the door before, and it has always been okay. You go up to this reception thing and tell them what you need help with, and there’s usually no problem … Not today. 

I rang the bell and the woman who opened was grumpy, but I accepted that. It was 3 in the morning, and I was sad, exhausted, tired, and dizzy myself, so I wasn’t about to react to that, I had no energy for that. She asked me what I wanted, and I said I was going to Legevakta She asked me if I had called, and I said no … This nurse though, she didn’t have anything to do with Legevakta, she was on Akutten (I think, at least not Legevakta, they’re almost the same place though, you go in the same way), but still she was kind of hassling me about what I wanted, blah-blah-blah. I said no, I didn’t have my phone, and she was like, you can’t go in there then, you have to call, and she directed me to a phone that was in the middle of the hallway where everyone could listen 20 meters from Legevakta, and told me I had to call first. I was a little dumb-founded, usually you could go to the Legevakta-reception, but I did as she told me anyways. 

So I stood there getting connected to the district-Legevakta, instead of the local-Legevakta (which was 20 meters away for God’s sake, the doctor was even awake, and there was no line!), and the woman in the other end was clearly condescending. “You did it yourself?” “Why did you do it?” “How deep is it?” Questions that don’t need to be asked when I know I needed stitches. Couldn’t she just believe me? The doctor would ask these questions afterwards anyways, I didn’t need to be frowned upon, and treated like an itty-bitty-emo-kid that didn’t deserve human decency but the person answering the phone. But I didn’t react to that, I didn’t have the energy for it, I have experienced this so many times before, I wasn’t about to use my last ounce on energy getting pissed for being judged, again. 

So I stood there, leaning against a tall shelf, barely holding on to the phone, feeling my face starting to sweat, it was hard standing up, I was so tired, and dizzy. And this is where the trouble began. 
I hear someone barking at me. Yelling at me. Just this short phrase, but definitely terrible, all the same. Terrible, horrifying, startling! “Don’t you go stepping in it!” … I’m like, WTF, and I look over to the nurse, the grumpy one. I stand there open-mouthed, shocked. My face reads: What the fuck! But I don’t say a word. Why is this grown-up woman yelling at me for no reason, I think. But I don’t do anything more than to look puzzled and annoyed at her. I feel like I deserve being yelled at. I’m a worthless piece of shit after all. And then I register what she had said. Stepping in it? Stepping in what? I look down, and I see a little pool of blood on the floor next to my shoe. Shit. I still don’t say anything. I’m thinking I’ll clean it up when I’m off the phone, I’m thinking I won’t step in it (though how can you not step in blood that’s coming from your own foot? search me!), I’m thinking, hang in there, don’t you die today. 

I’m on hold on the phone. I’m standing perfectly still. And I know this, I know I don’t move an inch. I’m leaning on my hands, almost disappearing, and I stand so still. And then I hear: DON’T STEP IN IT!

I loose it. I loose it. Since when is it all-right to yell at other grown-up human being out of nothing? I didn’t move an inch! And when you see a person clearly unwell, standing in an emergency room needing help, bleeding all over the floor, is really your first reaction to YELL AT THEM?! Lo-behold I had stepped in it, I still don’t think it’s okay for her to yell at me. But what made me react with anger in stead of getting sadder and feeling shame, because I was a stupid idiot for bleeding on the floor, is the fact that I didn’t move an inch, and she still yelled at me, that I shouldn’t go stepping in it. The fuck? So I get filled with this terrible anger, I feel walked on, violated, disrespected. I was having a terrible night already, I needed help, and this is what I get when I ask for it. Did she think I tried to bleed on the floor? Did she think I did it on purpose? Is this really how a professional meets a patient?

“I didn’t fucking move!” I look at her incredulously. I feel myself ready to explode. I say out aloud “I can’t deal with this!” and then I take some steps away. I try to remove myself from the situation, because I get so overwhelmed with anger, and hurt, and pain. I really can’t take it. I can’t handle it. And what do you think she does? She grabs me as I’m taking those steps away. She grabs my arm, and yanks me back, yelling at me. “Don’t walk around here, like that!”, or something, I don’t know. And I don’t know up from down anymore. She touched me. She grabbed me. She yelled even more, when I clearly showed her I was not able to deal with it. She prevents me from leaving the situation, she prevents me from even taking a few steps away. I explode. 

“I don’t appreciate being talked to like that! I didn’t fucking move, and still you yell at me! You can talk to people with the same respect you would want others to talk to you! I’m not your child, and you have no right to yell at me like that! I deserve to be treated with respect!” I say, or yell is more like it, something like that. And all the while I’m talking to her, she’s rolling her eyes. I guess rolling your eyes at a patient is the prime example of invalidating someone else’s feelings, and isn’t that what she’s supposedly paid for … I don’t think so.

Afterwards (after I’ve cleaned up after myself, and started to cry hysterically, because I’m not good with handling emotions, particularly not when it’s already waaaaaay toooo muuuuch!), I talk with the doctor, who was free all along, and he’s great, and tells me I deserve help as good as any gal, and that it was sad that that was the way I had to be met. But it’s too late you know. You add the bad situation to the bill, and forget about the good. It’s sadly the way it works when you have low self-esteem. The consequences the actions of this nurse had on me is enormous. And the worst thing about it is … she won’t even know, and she doesn’t even understand what she did. I leave the place, yeah, stitched up, pulled together. But this time asking for help only put another weight on my shoulders. Why does the world have to be like this. What do I do to change this? I don’t want anyone else to be met like this. 

What do you think? Am I overreacting? Was this okay? Who was in the wrong?

Sorry, this was a really long blurb. I just .. had to get it out. It’s 2 am, and I feel terrible, wanting to die. I have an appointment in the morning, but this darkness is just so all-consuming. How do we hang in here. 

Lots of hugs from me to you. I’m happy there are good people in the world as well. 


Good bye hospital, hello world

So, I’ve been to the hospital. I went for my tuesday appointment with my psychologist, and I didn’t return.

Even though I was only there for 3 days, I don’t really know where to start. I want to blast off about the idiot psychiatrist I met. I wanna tell you about how disappointed the system made/makes me. I want to let you know that in the midst of all that, there was a nice guy whom I played chess with, he won 2 times and I won 2 times.

But I can’t, yet. I haven’t been very good at being honest lately, and I don’t think I’m all the way there. But soon, I hope. Or … lol, who cares anyways. It’s not as though if I don’t write about that anyone is gonna miss it … I’m the only one reading this shit. And how absurd is that, me writing to myself about no one but myself reading it. And … I’ll stop.

Well. I’ve spent the last hours recording with my recorder the song I posted a draft off. Somewhere in there I mess up the lyrics, and it’s somewhat off pitch at times too. But I do think it’s better than the draft. Let me know, what you think! Please.

It’s about losing someone, and not managing to let them go. How life seems too lonely without them.

“How is it having a suicidal friend?”

So I wrote a message to my friend (like really). I mentioned the election-results (my country just had an election); I mentioned the cricket (ugh!) she found in her bed; I mentioned how I hadn’t been able to sleep, and my throbbing headache; I mentioned how much I cared about her and how proud I was of her; and I guess somewhere in there I asked how it was having a suicidal friend …

I don’t ask this very often. Heck, I don’t think I’ve ever asked. I’m not usually that direct. But I couldn’t isolate any longer. I had to have some contact and I decided to try honesty again. I was too tired to fake it. So I just blurted out what was on my mind. And somehow that was in there. I remember something similar happening some weeks ago … people I had put off way too long to respond to, I answered finally, one late night, when I was incredibly tired and couldn’t sleep. I seized the chance I had, the opportunity that bid itself since I was feeling like I didn’t care. I didn’t care to meticulously pick out every word, to scrutinize the messages. I just wrote. And it worked out ok. I mean, I got answers … though I haven’t gotten around to replying again yet. Fuck me. (Must be said, I didn’t mention anything close to heart in these ones though.)

But yeah. And you know what she answered? …

How can I know pain, and knowingly add to others’? How can I break when falling apart means giving up, and giving up means dying, and dying means I’ll give my pain to those I love? There are no reasons.

“You’re the friend I dreamt of, that I didn’t think existed. You got a creativity you can use to create incredible things. You give so much love. You’re strong. You give me hope.”

But how can this be me, when I am only shattered pieces of a life? Hurt from here to ever.  Too weak to climb the hills. How can I give someone hope, when my hope died?


There are no reasons.

150 words of BS

I stay up at night. Way longer than I should. Because I’m afraid of oversleeping. Because once I go to bed I know I’ll just want to stay there forever. In a strange way I think it’s better to sleep 4 hours before I have to get up than to get 9 hours. I don’t really see the logic. But that is what happens over and over.

I don’t wanna go into my bedroom, turn off the lights and just lie there feeling the anxiety taking over. I exhaust myself, even when I know that I have to get up early. Because I don’t wanna spend any more time than necessary feeling anxious and worried, and hopeless.

I have even a harder time sleeping when I have an appointment in the morning/noon the next day. Because of the oversleeping thing, and I don’t know, because I already start worrying about meeting my therapist, doctor, or whomever I’m having an appointment with.

This was all BULLSHIT. Thanks for reading.

Dear Anxiety

Dear Anxiety,

I want you to know that you are never welcome. You come uninvited every time, and I’m justing waiting for you to leave again. I don’t want you to visit, I don’t want to see you. You know no boundaries, and you have no consideration. Whether I got other plans couldn’t bother you less, and I’m sick of that. I want you to know that, know that you are not welcome. You are the guest I want the least. You ruin good conversations and put a damper on the mood. Dear Anxiety, you are not dear, you are not my friend, and you are not welcome.

Yours respectfully,