How cruel is....

…when I finally get a job interview with a company that I have been dying to work for, spent all night preparing for it, wake up the next day incredibly excited, do myself all up, arrive on time feeling confident and positive....

only to walk in the door and see the girl that tormented me for three years straight when I was in primary school...who has now worked her little biddy up to be the executive PA to the owners.

I spent three years from Grade 5 to Grade 7 being this girl's punching bag and she relentlessly picked on me for EVERYTHING from the shape of my body to my intelligence to my family. Looking back I realise the bullying was borderline sexual harrassment. I went into puberty very early, I started developing breasts at nine and I got my first period a week before my eleventh birthday. I went to a small private school where there was some hormonal freak show happening: not only was I developing early but the rest of the girls in my grade were late developers. Seriously, by age twelve pretty much every single one of the 22 girls in my grade still had a flat chest and that was like, soooo cool. The way they treated me you would have sworn that I was the only girl in the history of planet earth to sprout a pair of boobs. Never mind that they were all heading the same way in the boob department they were all disgusted (that is the best way I can describe it) by my boobs.

Although the boys took part in some of the teasing it was mostly the girls and it was relentless. When I was eleven I got at most two or three hours of sleep at night because I would lie awake with my stomach full of knots knowing that day after day I would have to go back into the "boxing ring" where I was called endless amounts of names, have songs made up about me, have to deal with being held down while someone would attempt to open the front part of my uniform. I would throw up before swimming lessons because I knew that my swimming costume would show up everything I was trying to hide. And then there was the dilemma of actually changing into said swimming costume. The teachers would not allow me to change in the bathroom stalls, no I had to change in front of everybody else because, "If you don't hide it, they won't tease you about it". What idiots.. That just meant that they would take my tog bag and throw it out the window so I couldn't change back into my clothes, or they would take my bra and throw it to each other in some sadistic game of piggy-in- the- middle. I would get my skirt lifted up to see if I was wearing a sanitary pad and I would get hit and punched in the chest.

If this all wasn't bad enough I had a learning disability, all my life and even now that I am at university I have had to work my butt off just to get a mediocre C aggregate. My family was poor- my parents broke their backs to put us through that school so we didn't have the Mercs or the BMW's or live in big fancy houses. I had very few clothes all cheap and crappy stationary for school.

This girl... let's call "F", she was the school's superstar. She was the class boffin, she was one of the top gymnasts in our province and was in numerous sports teams. She was from a wealthy family who owned an apple farm outside of town. Her parents had nice cars, she had a wardrobe stacked full of the best clothes and she travelled the world with her family. Her mother was also on the board of directors at the school and knew everything about my unstable, dysfunctional family and our financial troubles ( at one point my sister and I had to be given a bursary because our parents could not pay the school fees).

So F was pretty much the ring leader in that whole sordid mess. She treated me like I was a disease. She found joy in describing my body in the most disgusting ways, she mocked me when I struggled to do the same Maths sums that she flew through. And she would inform my classmates of the embarrassing details of my family- her mother was a nice well- meaning lady but a real ditz, as I can only think she let F know those details accidently.

F and I went to different high schools and I would see her occasionally. When I left South Africa in 2004 one of the things I took comfort in is that I would never have to see F again. I last heard she went to university and then became a steward for a private yacht company. Of all the bloody companies in South Africa that she had to work for, she had to choose this one. When I walked into that office and saw her all the air left my lungs and my face became like fire. It's been 15 years, I am 28 now have been through so much, have achieved so much and am a completely different person. But the minute I saw F I felt like an eleven year old little girl again. She gave me a fleeting glance took a look at my C.V/ Resume like it was chewing gum and floated to the back of the office. I stumbled my way through the interview.

Seriously, this is not supposed to happen!. What I have heard happening to everyone else- they get bullied at school by the cheerleader or football captain. They go on and turn out to be beautiful and hot, earn a tone of money and then come across their nemesis 20 years later either a broke divorced mother of three or a used car salesman who had to drop out of university. But F is still coming out tops even to this day. While I am still struggling. Her bullying me was never dealt with directly. I mean come on...her mother was on the board of directors, she was the schools poster child. My mother believed that I needed to fight my own battles and that what was happening to me was a part of growing up ( she now regrets this ) but when she did finally get involved the class was given a talking to by the teacher and told that if anyone else picked on me they would be sent to the principal. F never had to answer for what she did.

And what’s worse is that she probably doesn't remember any of this now. It is not affecting her at all. And I can't hold something against her that happened when she was still a child and didn't know any better.

If I do somehow miraculously get this job I am going to have to once again face her every single day. If I don't get this job, well she'll just continue to think that I am a looser. And right now I really do feel like one.

Tasteless

Of all the offices in South Africa I HAD to land up in one with a moron. Yep, if they found this post I would probably get fired because that moron unfortunately......is my boss. This week he played the most bizarre albeit rather disturbing and tasteless prank on me and quite frankly I am still trying to figure this out.

On Monday morning he came into the office with a story that on Sunday night he had had a guy arrested for peeing on his lawn. It was then discovered by the police that this man was in living in a car....with a baby. This first bit of information immediately raised red flags for me. I was then rather horrified when my boss told me that they put this guy and this baby in the back of a police van (in South Africa, police vans are trucks with the backs converted into cages for the criminals to sit in) and took them to the police station and placed both this man and the baby INTO AN ALL MALE CELL. Nice.

I was having trouble believing that this was even possible- where were child protective services?. Boss said apparently they had decided that the best place for this child was with this man so he could take care of her. IN A MALE CELL???. He showed me a picture of a man holding a rather distressed looking baby and that just made it worse for me. It's one thing if you just hear about something happening. Actually seeing it makes it more real. He told me not to worry but for two days I could think of nothing else. What were they feeding this child? Was she being bathed? Where was she sleeping? Where were they getting diapers?. It seemed so unreal. And it didn't help that my boss seemed to find the whole thing very funny- he actually said the kid was bound to land up in jail anyway so she might as well start early. I was disgusted.

Eventually on Wednesday this week, hearing that this kid was still in jail, I couldn't take it any longer. I was ashamed that I had not done something sooner. I picked up the phone and phoned my counsellor who worked for an organisation for abused children. She had all kinds of connections and even knew a judge. She was equally horrified and we started working on a plan to get this child out. This all happened in the office. When my boss heard that I was phoning for help, he stuck his head in the door and told me (in between bloody giggles) that he had been pulling my leg for the last two days.

At first I was in shock. Then I started laughing- not because I thought it was funny more because I just didn't know what else to do. My counsellor laughed with me. But once I got off the phone with her and sat down to think it hit me: For two days I had been going out of my mind with worry....it was all I thought about, my traitorous imagination threw up all sorts of images of what could be happening to this child in a male jail cell. My anxiety disorder began living up to it's name again. I felt sick, helpless, I couldn't concentrate. At the same time I felt both disgusted and foolish because no one else seemed to care. Finding out it was a hoax was infuriating!. Once he let the cat out the bag everyone else in the office was quick to make it clear that they had no knowledge that it was a joke. Our regional manager wasn't exactly pissed off about it but didn't seem to pleased about it either and made my boss apologise to me. I can't say that made it much better...he wasn't exactly sincere.

 I don't blame you for thinking I am going overboard, you may be right. But seriously what sane, supposedly stable person can joke about something like that? Because of my past and what I have gone through with Little B and her sisters, if I ever hear that there is a child in danger or in need it hurts and I will do something about it. I feel hurt that my boss exploited such a sensitive part of me. I was considering quitting- the lady whose maternity leave I am covering seems to want to come back early to escape her house. Not to mention I have made two big mistakes this week that has cost the company money. I then realised that that was a really childish thing to do and I would be shooting myself in the foot- I need the money. At the end of my life this company and it's employees will feature very little. So I am staying and keeping my distance from this idiot. Have you ever had a horrible prank played on you that did some emotional harm. Please let me know I am not alone!!.

Joining the rat race

First day on a new job!. I really can feel that I have not worked in a while. I was so tired sitting in that office and I couldn't stop yawning. I was worried that everyone thought I was bored. I have to admit it is a rather hectic job and there is SO much to learn. The thing that is really freaking me out is that the lady whose maternity leave I am covering is in her NINTH month of pregnancy!!. She goes on leave TWO DAYS before she is due to give birth. I am starting to have vision of the office turning into a labour ward. There is so much work for us to cover that if she has her baby any sooner than she is supposed to, I'm in serious shit.

The people in the office where I work seem nice, they are really comfortable around each other. I don't think they are the type of people I would normally hang out with- they are party goers, I got out of that phase long time ago. One thing that does irk me is the amount of swearing that goes on around that office. I'm no grandma, I once had a very potty mouth that I picked up courtesy of London and I had to work hard to get rid of it. I can understand breaking your toe or seeing something that beggars believe and uttering every slang word you can think of. We all have been there. But to me someone that swears in every sentence they speak tells me that they have nothing good or intelligent to say and are just trying to full the silence. I'm not offended by it...I find it more annoying than anything.

The job itself does look like a high stress job unfortunately. Without revealing too much info, basically the company I work for is a worldwide tour group. The job I will be covering will be as a coordinator for all the tour guides in Southern Africa. It's a lot of paper work, even more data entry and I'll have to learn the NINE different computer programmes designed specially for the company ( which aren't very user friendly if you ask me).

This is going to be one of the biggest tests I will face since I've had my breakdown. I am going to be positive and believe that this will have a good effect on my mental health. The make or break it period will come in November when I will be working AND studying for five exams....with no time off. It's all about time management. If I start now it won't be the death of me. And of course I always have to keep my dreams in sight to know what I am working towards.

Good news, everyone!

Borrowing the catch- phrase of Professor Farnsworth from Futurama, I have some good news. I went to hospital to have a check up for my BIH at the neurology department. They looked at history of intercranial pressure taken at each lumbar puncture/ spinal tap I have had and saw that it has slowly been decreasing over the last 2 and a half years. I also have not been getting many headaches lately and they say the headaches I have been getting are tension headaches. Based on my history and how I have been doing the last six months, they believe the BIH has resolved itself and that I am well enough to go off my medication. This is VERY good news because the medication I was on for BIH had some horrible side effects and I was pretty sure it was interacting with my antidepressants. The only way to see if the BIH is gone is to take me off the meds. SO no more painful pins and needles in my hands and feet, no more fatigue, no more nausea and no more having to  pee 75 times a day!. Yipeee!!! Let's just hold thumbs and hope that it is gone.

And my second bit of good news is that I have a job interview on Friday for a PA/ Junior Journalist position at a Christian magazine. I didn't deliberately apply for a job at a Christian magazine, it just came up. I had to send in samples of my writing. One of the samples was "10 Unusual degrees" from this blog. Obviously I changed it and spruced it up a little.I had to do the Myers- Briggs Personality test and answer all these questions about my commitment to Christianity etc before even getting invited to the interview. I have studied the Myer- Briggs closely during the course of my degree so I know how it works and could easily have cheated on it. But since I want to work for a company that I actually fit into, I didn't. I was a surprised and a little offended with the questions about Christianity since I see that as very personal but answered them as honestly as I could ( I didn't go as far as to tell them I was an atheist for several years). Because of the answers I gave, I really didn't expect a call back.

As I haven't gotten the job yet and I will have to answer some tough questions in the interview (I don't have a SA drivers license/ what exactly have I being doing the last four years) I not exactly celebrating. But I got an interview so at least that is some achievement for now. I will be nervous on Friday, it's the first job interview I have had since living in America and I am facing a lot of competition. I need to convince them that I can both study and work full time. I am also dreading any personal questions they may ask. I have had to borrow money from my sister to buy clothes as I just don't have anything that is suitable. I feel a lot of pressure to succeed for my family.

Please pray for me if that is your inclination, otherwise you can just wish me luck!!.

Still climbing the big scholarly mountain

As most of you know, for the last month I have been a slave to studying. I am currently doing a BA degree in Communication Science and Industrial Psychology. That's a long fancy name for a BA for a Sh*tload of really difficult work. As I am someone who does not have natural aptitude for studying- I can't just study my work once and expect to pass, I have to study it several times- everything in my life (including this blog) has been put on hold. I study at night since that is when the house is the most quiet and I literally go from my bed to my desk and then back to my bed.

I know this may sound really morbid but actually my depression, anxiety and BIH has been doing well. I had to take a sedative before my first exam which I don't like doing but I figured it was either that or failing a R2000 class. Unfortunately  I couldn't escape these exams entirely without bad luck or drama. I have had chronic eczema since I was baby. As a teenager I was covered in it from head to toe ( didn't exactly make me Miss Popularity- I was known as "The Scab" or -the more creative nickname- "The Itch"). But since I have entered my 20's it mostly effects my hands. Every once in a while I get a really bad flare- up mostly because of stress. Unfortunately one of those flare- ups has just happened now during these exams. I have spent most of this week with my hands in bandages. My writing hand is the worst affected and yesterday while writing my exam my hand became so sore from writing that I stretched it out. I don't know what happened but but suddenly my hand started bleed profusely. It really freaked the invigilator out who let me go to the bathroom to re- bandage my hand. I feel sorry for whoever gets to mark my paper that's covered in little drops of blood. Maybe they'll think I'm a Twilight fan!! hahaha!!...okay bad joke.

I am a creepy creepy mummy back from the dead! hahaha!

I was thinking to myself today that it is beyond me that I'm (well my godfather to be precise)  paying an institution thousands of rands for them to give me the work and letting them torture me through exams. What's even crazier is that I am considering torturing myself more by studying further after my degree....TELL I'M NUTS!!!. I just keep telling myself that each successful day I do of studying, each exam I write is a small step closer to reaching a dream and proving those thoughtless doctors, psychologists, teachers and people  wrong who said I would never even be able to go to a normal school.

Anyway I am on a break today and I am not going to touch a book. I thought about writing something fun for this blog since it has been neglected and its a place that I like to practice my creative writing once in a while so.....see my next post!! :)

Happy Blogoversary!

A year ago today I started this blog. I actually can't believe it is just been a year- it feels like ages ago when I nervously sat in my bedroom with my laptop on my lap and opened my heart up to cyberspace. Man, I had no idea where to start. It was just a few months after I had been diagnosed with BIH and I was at my sickest. I can't say how far down the road to recovery I have come since starting this blog since. My life has been characterized by constant ups and downs. But I can definitely say since I started blogging I am a lot more informed about mental illness, treatment and recovery. And I have discovered a lot more about myself.

I called this blog "Hope for the flowers" after a book by the same name written by Trina Paulus. It was read to me when I was little and I have read it countless times since becoming an adult. It's message has always remained true to me- to become the person you were meant to be takes time, courage, refinement, patience, pain and love. I live in hope for my "flowers" and believe that everything I have gone through and everything I am going through now with bring out the best in me and help me discover who I really am and what I am meant to be doing with my life.

Since it's my first blogoversary I thought would repost my very first post. Reading this post again a year later...I have to wonder what the heck was going through my mind when I wrote this, was I tripping or what?!. I am also posting a song called "Hope for the flowers" by Jason Mraz.

Thank- you to everyone who has supported and encouraged me this past year. You have all been a blessing!

April 21st 2010

Meet Stripe and Yellow.....



Some of you may know them some of you may not. For those of you that do know them you'll know they were two of the bravest caterpillars ever to crawl on earth.


This blog will not be about the great Stripe and Yellow, but I thought they would be great introduction. Why? because not matter how small and insignificant a person is, they have a story to tell and some stories are REALLY worth telling.

My story is rather unusual and rather heartbreaking, but also funny and at times uplifting. I'm writing for many reasons: My family, to find someone in the same boat and I really do hope that some of the things I have to say will help and least one person. But, (and I really hope I don't sound self- absorbed- that is NOT my intention)I am mostly writing for myself. I want something tangible that I can hold onto to remind that I am on a journey, that I am taking baby steps and that I am one step ahead then I was yesterday- there is tomorrow. On that glorious day when I reach the top of this mountain I can look back down into the valley- read everything I wrote and say " Wow! what a ride".

A few warnings first: I used to be good at writing but long years of neglect have put me severely out of practice. Also trying to express myself will be difficult at first. Please be patient with me!

Secondly, I have inherited my dad's stubborn mind and have STRONG opinions about certain things. I am hoping my sweet mothers influence on me will have given me some tact. But in the end they are just opinions agreeing and disagreeing with them is your right.

Until next time.....

When the pressure cooker explodes



Breakfast at Tiffany's

 Firstly I would really like everyone to take a look at my last post and maybe pass on the message. I would like to see that lovely kitty get a home. If there was a way I could have her shipped to South Africa, I would take her but I know that is impossible.

My half- sister (from my Dad's previous marriage) is in the country and has decided to grace my parents with her presence for two days starting on Easter Sunday. I'm not going to give the gory details other than to say that both my younger sister and I decided several years ago that it would be best if we had no relationship with her. I'm pretty sure she feels the same. We would have left it at that if my mother was not on a eternal quest to bring us together again citing the "forgive and forget" slogan with some pretty disastrous consequences. This woman has treated my mother atrociously in the past and I have to admit finding my Mom's easy forgiveness of her and forgetting all that happened rather disturbing. It's like my Mom is intimidated by her and feels responsible for the rift between her and my Dad which couldn't be farther from the truth.

Anyway enough about that, this week as been stressful enough mostly because of finances, my up coming exams and my grandmother (again a whole other post). And ( Sorry guys! ) it's been that time of the month. I'm on the pill and for the past few months I have been using the pill to stop my monthly "pal" from dropping by. For about eight days around and during my period my antidepressants stop working my anxiety levels shoot through the roof and I become a shouting, screaming, kick- boxing wench and during the rare periods of calm I experience an overwhelming- unable-to-breath sadness. So I have really been using the pill to stop the awful pms-ing.

Well this month I couldn't do that because I didn't have money to get my pill on time. Yesterday I had a counselling session in which we talked a lot about the past, the abuse and how ****ed up my family is, so I was feeling a little emotionally sore. I then had to spend two hours in a hospital waiting room for my grandmother to see the doctor. And of course my grandmother was yelling and talking utter rubbish as she usually does, irritating everyone there. Eventually we were asked to take her outside. During this time I read the story I posted above about the kitty, Precious and it really upset me. So the stage was set for a rather big explosion. And the one who set it off?. My mother.

I have made it clear that I don't want to see my half- sister and have made plans to go and stay with my younger sister when she is here. After seeing the doctor we bundled my grandmother in the car during which my mom told me my half sister would be coming on Sunday. I replied that I would be going to my younger sister. My Mom said then that she had a "simple request". That was the match that lit the dynamite and knowing what she was asking I exploded.

I just started screaming my lungs out!. We were parked in a disabled parking quite close to the hospital entrance and people actually stopped and stared. A group of nurses walking towards us gave the car a wide berth. I was so furious that I kept on shouting all the way to my Aunt's house.

My Mom knows how bad the relationship is between my half- sister and I. What's worse is that I have told her everything that happened but she always forgets and keeps on asking me over and over again. I have given my reasons for not wanting to see  her but she doesn't respect my decision and keeps on nagging and demanding that we become freaking best friends because we are "sisters". Her coming to stay has really been stressing me out this time and my Mom has been more demanding than usual. This all coupled with everything else that was going on yesterday pushed me over the edge.

Today I'm a little worried because that explosion yesterday definitely caused me to take a mental step backwards. I can't describe it, I feel like a switch has flipped and something is different. I was meant to volunteer at the welfare today but this morning I couldn't get out of bed- I had a nightmare about my half- sister  last night. We were all at some big party and I spent the entire time trying to avoid her until eventually she confronted me and was crying and throwing a tantrum. I remember she had awful teeth. Ugh!. I woke up this morning feeling really disturbed and paranoid. I decided I didn't have it in me today to face those awful welfare ladies once again and stayed home. I failed today.

So I have spent most of today in a anxious state of paranoia and feeling angry and hurt at my mother for putting me there. I told my Mom how I was feeling this morning and her response was to pray for me. She's now acting like everything is hunky- dory. She knows that something is terribly wrong unfortunately before she takes action she goes into a state of denial first.

This might make you laugh. The final slap in the face?. My half sister will having a roast lamb dinner with my Mom and Dad. My grandmother's side of the family owns a sheep farm up in the Northern Cape. Every once and a while the send us lamb, very popular in South Africa and Europe and my favorite. They used to send lamb down a lot but after my beloved great uncle died they now only send it down about twice a year. It's way to expensive to buy in the store. We have had this leg of lamb in the freezer and I have literally been waiting with bated breath until we can have a roast lamb dinner. Well guess who is now getting the damn dinner?. Guess who will be sitting in a flat with her sister eating sandwiches?. Uh- huh.

To all my readers in the U.S...

Is anyone willing to give a home to a heartbroken kitty named Precious

What's your happy pill???

When I left the hospital last week they gave me a nice little gift bag. This is what was inside:

Mmmmmn! This is about R1200 ( $177/ £109 ) worth of meds. I am very blessed in that in South Africa if you are unemployed, specifically in the Western Cape you get your meds free. I can't say the same for the US...I virtually went bankrupt trying to pay medical bills when I lived there.

Only two of these boxes contain my "happy pills"...antidepressants, the rest is for my BIH and one is to stabilize my shaky blood sugar. I take eleven and a half pills a day, most of them in the morning. When I am taking supplements ( these are VERY expensive in SA ) I can take up 10 pills in the morning alone- little B was always in awe of how I would be able swallow them all at once. Actually this would amaze everyone. I only take painkillers as a last resort...like say, when I'm blind. So those really don't factor into the equation.

The antidepressants I take are 50mg of Citalopram (brand name Celexa or Cipramil) and 25mg Amitriptyline - I take those for the headaches so I am not on a antidepressant dose. When I first started taking antidepressants in America I started on 20mg of Lexapro. The side effects of going on to antidepressants were really weird: a strong burning sensation on my face, neck, arms and chest, manic talking (just about ANYTHING would tumble out of my mouth), serious disassociation and really weird fevers!. Those are just the unusual side effects...I had all the usual side effects as well.

The long term side effects have been a little more unnerving. Both my long term and short term memory have taken a knock. In some cases with my long term memory it has been for the best, making some awful childhood memories seem more misty lessening their conscious impact on me. But for my short term memory it's another thing. I can't remember appointments, instructions or where I put things. I forget dates for assignments or what I even need to look at to remind me of assignment dates. Studying is a nightmare as I forget something as soon as I read it and I have trouble recalling something I have read a hundred times. This is not good as my exams start end of next month. The physical side effects, or those that are visible are weight gain ( I had to give away most of the fabulous clothes I bought in London), fatigue, thirst and sweating like a freakin' pig.

Then there is the emotional side of things. I still struggle with physical side of depression but I have no way of expressing any emotion because antidepressants have turned me into an emotionless, cold icicle. The only emotion I feel now days is anger and that's mostly when I am around my Dad. I can't cry, during the blue moon that I do cry it's only a couple of tears but I feel nothing. I don't feel happiness, sadness, contentedness, motivation just nothing, I just don't care. This has really perplexed and in many cases, hurt the people who knew me before my breakdown. They don't understand what has happened they can't accept that I have changed so a lot of those relationships have now grown apart and some have fallen by the wayside.

I am interested to know what meds some of you are on and what the positives and the negatives are...it's different for everyone so should be really interesting to compare.

Tomorrow I have the dreaded task of going into animal welfare and volunteering. I am looking forward to caring for the animals, also nervous as it can be really heartbreaking. But I am not looking forward to interacting with the "delightful social club" that are the other volunteers. They are really a miserable bunch of people and I don't want to spend even two minutes in their company but since they did save Milo's life I'm going to grin and bear it.

Japan: to the land of the rising sun...I salute you!

I cannot BELIEVE I am doing this again in such a short space of time. With the gorgeous country of New Zealand still picking up the pieces from their own earthquake, Japan will now be facing many dark days.

Japan is the country of my dreams... I have held a fascination with it's multi- faceted culture ever since I was a little girl, it is my dream to go there to work ( most likely to teach English ) once I finish my studies. Having this disaster anywhere is terrible but it was especially heartbreaking for me to watch those tsunami waves crash into the countryside and seeing pictures of rubble and distraught people.

To The Depressed Reader, one of my readers and former blogger, Takashi I only know that you both live in or around Tokyo and you were most likely affected. I hope that you are both unharmed and that your friends and family are safe. My hope is that there will be no more loss of life and minimal injuries, how possible that is I don't know. To everyone else...please take care of yourselves.

Also the the people living in the areas that have been issued Tsunami alerts (New Zealand, the Philippines, Indonesia, Papua New Guinea, Hawaii among others) Please be careful!.

I try to be as genuine as I can in situations like this and not say things that are cliched....I honestly can say that you will be in my thoughts today.

Hereafter

A few weeks ago after yet another visit to the doctor, I saw Clint Eastwood's latest movie ( at least his latest movie in South Africa ) Hereafter, pretty self- explanatory- it's all about kicking the eternal bucket. I was nervous about seeing this film, I guess it would be normal for any person to have reservations about seeing a movie which will remind them about their own mortality. But I have had some horrible experiences with death or  more specifically with the idea of death. I have mentioned before that I lost a good friend to cancer when I was 10 years old. I had the typical childish fear of death back then. After she died though I was no longer afraid, why I am not entirely sure. It was first time someone close to me had died and  it was almost as though once someone had taken the plunge first it wasn't so bad any more. Once the initial shock and grief of her death had waned I remember thinking how dying seemed like such a grown up thing for such a little girl to do.

In 2007 when I was very emotionally ill before my breakdown, one of the strange psychiatric developments that came about was the strong illusion that I was going to die. I had the absolute conviction that, say, this time next week I would no longer be alive and that I was definitely going to die by Tuesday or Wednesday. Once Tuesday and Wednesday had rolled round, it didn't make a difference....I was definitely going to die by Thursday or Friday. I will not ever be able to properly express how massively terrifying this was. I was living in the US....away from my family, I had no friends yet and I was to ashamed to tell the people I was living with. How exactly do you tell someone that?. I started packing my things away. I made a list of my things saying who was to get what once I was gone. I pleaded with God to save me, getting just silence in return. Once I had my breakdown however to me there was no God. In one single night all the faith that I had in my whole life, everything I believed in disappeared. It shattered me, broke my heart beyond repair and I don't think I will ever be the same.

Those where hard times but I have come a LONG way and I have faced what happened. If I look back with the knowledge that I have now and with most of my sanity once again intact, I can now see why my breakdown happened and how it happened. Why I developed that sudden obsession with death before my breakdown, I'll never know.

So you can understand why I was a little apprehensive about seeing this movie. Apprehensiveness for me normally goes hand in hand with curiosity...so if I am apprehensive about seeing a movie, it will most likely be the first movie I see- the same thing happened with Black Swan.

I was actually really surprised despite the fact that there are parts of this movie that are incredibly sad, the best way I can describe the mood is soothing and mellow. Really weird if you consider it's content. And there was no creepiness which was refreshing. I spoke with a friend who also saw this movie and we agreed that we both came away feeling like we had found solace. For me personally it made me feel better about death- whether that's for the short or long term I'm not exactly sure.

Afterwards, I started thinking about death practically for the first time, without the fear factor involved. Yes, I am a mortal, one day I will draw my last breath just like everybody else that is reading this (unless you have found the eternal fountain of youth ) and whether it's fair or not none of us are guaranteed to live to old age.

Probably the most difficult thing about facing my fear of death is what will happen to me after I die. I was raised in a Christan household. I actually became a born- again christian when I was 12. I was taught that if I asked Jesus for forgiveness of my sins and dedicated my life to him that I would live with him in heaven for all eternity. Then I became an unbeliever for several years and I believed that when I died the lights would go out and I would cease to exist but then to many things happened (which I won't go into right now) to once again make me believe otherwise- call me a flake.

Now my relationship with God is on the mend- that will probably take the rest of my life. But I can't say my belief in the afterlife has been strengthened. If I am going to be honest...not only do I find the  most popular Christian belief of the afterlife hard to believe.....I er, don't find it all that appealing either. Streets of gold and gems just don't do it for me and - I think I may really offend some people here- most Christians...the evangelical kind drive me nuts and the thought of spending eternity with all of them is a hugely unpleasant thought.

I am very aware ( and respectful ) that most of my readership are actually non- believers (mental illness + God = doesn't seem to go) but I am still really interested in what you believe happens to you when you die: do you believe you will go to heaven to be with God?, do you believe that "the lights will go out" and that will be it? or do you believe that something happens but you are not sure what?. I once came across I a guy that believed in God 100% but didn't believe in an afterlife. I also knew a girl who believed our energy was absorbed by the universe and we became part of the stars. I have come across so many people, of no religion that believe in reincarnation. I realise this discussion has been done a million times but I would like to have it here.

PLEASE NOTE: If someone says something you don't agree with  DO NOT go into the attack mode. That won't be allowed and I will delete your comment. Just had to mention that because I know these things can get people pretty passionate about this subject :) .

Later on I will write a post about what I think the afterlife may be, my own interpretation of what the bible says about it ( there's much more to it than freaking clouds and pearly gates ) and what I want the afterlife to be. Three very different things.

Below is the trailer to Hereafter:

Me gots a blog award!

My dear friend, Wendy and her girls over at Year of the Cats have awarded me with a "Stylish Blog Award"! *blink* blink* blush*. Now it may only be January but this has made my YEAR!. It had me grinning from ear to ear and I actually went to get my Mom (who had just gone to bed) to show her. Thank- you so much Wendy! This was so special and I'm touched that you have honored my blog:).

I found Wendy over at Takashi's blog and her sincere and compassionate advice- never being afraid to go against the tide- made my want to be her friend. She blogs about her two beautiful kitties, Sele and Bella, her life as a Wiccan and being Bipolar. For me visiting her blog is like visiting a gift shop everything is so colourful and diverse and I always feel like I come away with something special. Her writing so beautiful and has had me both laughing my head off and in tears.

I'm going to copy Wendy's tradition as a recipient of a blog award and tell you seven interesting things about myself:

1. Despite being incredibly SHY I have won several awards and competitions for public- speaking

2. I am a descendant of both Captain James Cook and Stonewall Jackson and on Dad's side my great great grandmother was a Cherokee Indian.

3. I have lived in three countries: I was born in Texas, USA, my parents emigrated to South Africa when I was 18 months old (my Mom is South African). I went to live in London, UK when I was 20 for 2 years and then spent 18 months in America. I am now back in South Africa. Phew.

4. I speak two languages, English and Afrikaans and am currently learning Japanese. I plan to learn Spanish in the future.

5. I am a redhead- a bit strange because both my parents had black hair. My sister is blonde.

6. I am doing a degree in Industrial Psychology and Communication Science.

7. I think snakes are cute ( I don't own any though!).

And that's it. For now I am going to hold on passing this award to anyone else- this is because I only follow a few blogs and love them all so I honestly don't know which one to choose and choosing them all would feel a bit insincere.

The topic of this blog is Mental illness- particularly depression. I am aware that it's a topic that makes a lot of people feel uncomfortable. I write on two ends of the scale. I'll write posts like the one before this that is dark and then I will write posts that are funny too. And I don't always write about Mental illness either.

Anyway thanks again Wendy and thanks for reading!.

It's a bird! It's a plane..No! It's...WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!!!

The joys of home remedies!

I am blogging from my blackberry so this should be especially
interesting (and finger aching)

For now I am against putting up any pics of myself on this blog, but
this was just so funny/ scary I couldn't resist. For this past week my
BIH has gotten worse and worse and I've spent the last two days mostly
in bed with intense pain. I really don't want to rely on painkillers,
so I am always on the look out for alternative ways to manage pain.
Some things work, some don't. What has always helped me is literally
cooling my head down, so what you see there are pillows that have been
in the freezer, an ice pack on my head and teabags on my eyes. Drained
ceylon teabags are supposed to be great for tired, puffy eyes and eye
pain. I find it has a really soothing effect and sometimes laying down
with teabags on my eyes and doing my breathing exercises can be SO
relaxing. Even if it makes me look like 2D's sister. I doubt anyone
will recognize me on the street from this. Unless you have laser
eyes!.

Anyway there is something else that I would like to mention that has
been on my mind. It's about the Internet more specifically people' s interaction
ON the Internet. The Internet to me is the most amazing tool that was
ever created: an endless abundance of information available at just
one click. Friends and family on the other side of the world can find
each other and keep track of each other. In 2008 the US processed 23 zettabytes
worth of information- that' equal to 1 trillion trillion bytes. If you
had to visit every a webpage every minute on the web you would never be
finished. But as we have unlocked this key of discovery, we have
opened a Pandora's box. Child pornography exploded after the Internet,
the Internet became the perfect haunt for pedophiles. People now have
no privacy.

But I have chosen this medium to reveal a painful struggle that most
people who know me have no idea about. Anyone reading this blog
doesn't know me but knows some of the deepest corners of my heart. How
does that figure?. What I will tell you is that it took nearly a year
of deliberating before deciding to take a leap of faith, so it wasn't
a decision that was taken lightly. And there are things that I will
never discuss on here.

The worst part of depression for me is the vast and never- ending
sadness and loneliness. This makes me vulnerable and turning to the
Internet, specifically this blog could be dangerous.

Here's why: (does anyone identify with this?)

When I was about 9 two cousins that I didn't know very well were
visiting. We were all out in the yard playing. The younger one and I
were playing Frisbee, instead of throwing the Frisbee to him, I threw
the Frisbee at him and was delighted when the thing hit him again and again. I was
intimidated by him because he was new and generally people outside my
immediate family preferred my sister because she was a more stable
child. So before he could reject me I was going to drive him away.
This Frisbee abuse carried on for a while before he finally stopped,
walked up to me and said. "If you play nicely, I'll be your friend".
Well those were the magic words, for the rest of the time he was there
I played very sweetly with him and followed him around like a puppy.
If he had turned around and told me to get lost my heart would have
shattered into a million pieces.

It's nearly two decades later. I am far more mature and better at
handling myself. But because of past issues I have yet to deal with
and loneliness being my constant companion. I am still the same: if
someone shows me friendship I will act nonchalant, but my heart will be
singing. And it is the same for me on the Internet and on this blog.
This is why it could be dangerous: the Internet is not a real world. On
the Internet we can be anything we want and while I have been nothing
but honest on this blog there are people that aren't.

My problem is that I have to constantly make sure I don't get too
attached to people to people I interact with online. We are all here
revealing our deepest darkest secrets, so it's hard. When I receive a comment (and I
love comments) I have to make sure that my attitude is "A comment,
that's great" instead of " OH MY GOD! I got a comment! a comment! My
new best friend!!!" And if that person doesn't comment on my next post
"Why didn't they comment?! Don't they like me anymore?"

Your interpersonal day to day relationships need and should take
priority over any online relationships ( most likely with people
you don't know) . Support for mental illness
online can be beneficial if used correctly but it could go the other
way and become part of the problem. Guard your heart and mind there
are vast amounts of people on here who can harm you that way. I may
sound preachy but these are the rules that I am exercising for myself
and maybe others might want to consider.There are people I have met
through blogging that I would love to get to know personally but in
most cases that won't be possible. And that's okay. We are all here
for just a season of our lives.

Having finished with my monologue I would like to say that it has been
nothing but an honor getting to know some people through
reading their blogs. It's been great being able to interact and
identify with people in the same boat. And the support that I have
received on this blog has eased the burden of a very long, tiring
journey.

Tomorrow I will do a post on the fantastic CBT session I had today.
She taught me some fantastic new exercises called TRE (Trauma release
exercises) . It was a bad day today and these exercises made the world
difference. I think it's really going to help with both my depression
and anxiety. Yippeeeee!