The post that didn't appear

You may have noticed I didn't post this Tuesday. This is the sort of thing which can happen. I had planned to do my usual "What's in my fridge?" post, and for obvious reasons, well, that has to be done on the same day.

And I did start. And I took a pic. And then technology started breaking down. And then my head fell apart. And the rest of the day was more or less just geared at getting through, keeping myself fed, and just rest, rest, rest.

It is a fact of life that I can start out a day doing fine, and then suddenly it just disintegrates, and being able to string two thoughts together and making sense of them is but a dream. Sometimes there is a trigger, but there doesn't have to be. Yesterday the trigger was camera troubles. I did get them sorted out at the end of the day, but I decided that if this blog is to really give a tangible impression of how my life goes, well, sometimes I won't be posting even if it is scheduled. And I am not going to be ashamed about it. Sad, yes, disappointed, maybe. Ashamed, no.

This has made it clearer to me how important it is to keep a schedule of my blogging, and to try to write a bit every day. This isn't bad, in fact it may be beneficial to me to get the routine in. And having a few finished posts ready so I can use a back-up plan on future days of brain malfunction. Because there will be more. I know it. At least they aren't as frequent as they used to be, nor always as bad.

There are three valuable lessons I learned from what happened Tuesday.

First: planning my blog ahead, and building up a buffer or reserve of posts. It strikes me this isn't merely practical for building a frame/routine for myself, nor for making it possible to post something even on bad days. It would also be helpful for when I plan on going on holiday. And in June and July there will be a need for that. Especially in July when I will be out of internet reach.

Second: I am learning more about technological appliances and computers. I may not always understand how and why, but from believing I had wasted money on a new type of memory card which was useless, I was able to think "What happens if I do X?", and then slowly experiment my way into being able to access the pictures and videos on the card. Even though I am still very much a novice at all this, I am building up a sense of accomplishment and confidence.

Third: Sitting down with one of my colouring books and a box of colour pencils and getting on with them, while either watching a documentary or film or listening to music helps to calm my head, and slowly get it to settle down and start being functional again. I actually knew this already, but it was good to be reminded of it. I need to remember it for the future. It won't cure me, and I might not be able to do anything mentally demanding the rest of the day, but it helps soothe me.

So the post that didn't appear instead spent itself in teaching me a few things. Not bad. And if this helps you see some hidden treasure in your life, better.

Life is funny

As a teenager trying to figure out what to do for a living, I really wanted a job where I'd be making things with my hands. However, the realist (or was it the pessimist?) in me knew that to make a living out of being creative meant heavy competition, having a lot of talent, a lot of good luck, and working hard. The working hard didn't scare me off, but I didn't want to bet too much on my talent and luck. So I opted for the bookish road, and academia, which was not an unpleasing path anyway.

At the end of my university time I had developed another dream, one which involved settling down somewhere in rural Wales, and having a homestead or similar, and being self-sufficient with veg, fruit, meat etc. Again my inner realist knew that it would be a challenge, so better to opt for a job or two in Denmark before taking the leap down onto that path.

And I finally did land a job. Which meant that at the same time my parents were moving to the small island where mum grew up, I was heading for the other end of the country to work. Things started alright, but finally a number of things which had been developing over years caught up with me, and I found myself sidelined by depression. Sick leave helped a bit, but I came back too soon. And various other issues which are too many, and frankly too bad for me to want to dwell on, meant that I found myself leaving North Denmark to seek refuge with my parents, lick my wounds and recover, and then look around for the way forward from there.

 But somehow I didn't really seem to get any better. In some ways, in fact, it seemed like I was getting worse. Some good did happen, such as realizing that if I belonged any place in Denmark, it was here on Ærø. I would be able to commute for my next job, and perhaps combine that with working from home. Or perhaps even start as a self-employed translator. Which is why we ended up buying a house for me here. With an apple orchard and a bit of land to the property.

And then came the day when I was so sick and tired and weary of it all, that I asked to be admitted to hospital. Signing that paper was in some ways one of the toughest things I have ever done. In many other ways, it was one of the easiest. It was in any case easier than when I had signed my job contract. That is how I got to spend 3 nights in our local hospital towards the end of the year, mostly being a vegetable. The staff were awesome and were shocked to hear I had been living off my savings during all of the time. When I was sent home, it was with medications, strict orders that I went home to my home, not my parents, and that as soon as the Town Hall was open again to file for the sick pay I was entitled to.

Thus it was I ended up in the system, and other people were involved in figuring out how to get on. I won't bother with the long and tedious story. The important thing is that after a few years I was sent to a consulting psychiatrist who gave me two diagnoses. One was that I suffer from recurring depressions, and I would probably face the rest of my life on my medication. The other was a psychiatric illness.

Have you ever thought about how you would react if you were handed a psychiatric diagnosis?

I hadn't. But I know what was going on in my brain when she told me.

One half of me was running around like a headless chicken, using very colourful language, and horrified at being some sort of madman, and probably needing locking up. And the other half was crying and dancing with relief and joy at being told, that I was, in fact, normal, at least in regards to the bits and bobs which make up my mind. It's just not the standard set of bits and bobs. And I wasn't a lazy, good-for-nothing, stupid, doddering idiot. In fact, she stressed the fact that I was in possession of a good intellect. That has held me up many times.

I won't bother about regaling the road from there on to getting a temporary pension (several times) before finally getting a permanent one. Because that is not the important part of this particular story. No, it is rather the observations made during those periods.

I have grown up watching my mum and her mum doing all sorts of textile crafts. Mostly knitting and cross stitching. I had actually done both as a teenager, but it had slid along the side. But during the years before getting the diagnosis and then the following ones, I had picked up knitting again as a way of not losing it altogether. It was a way of keeping my hands, and my mind occupied. People would comment if they saw me without any knitting. And it dawned upon me after I started getting the temporary pension, that I was getting money, and I was spending my days knitting.

This was not what my teen-aged self had envisioned, but in a funny, backward sort of way I was being paid to make stuff with my hands. And after I finally got my first chickens almost three years ago, well, this isn't Wales, and I doubt I'll ever be able to get all my mad dreams of my twenties fulfilled, but it is rural, and I am taking baby steps toward some sort of self-sufficiency.

Life is funny. Funny peculiar, though considering the almost happy ending, funny ha ha could fit too.
Because in a very roundabout way, and nothing like what I had hoped for or dreamed of, I find myself more or less doing what I had wanted to.

I recently saw a quote on a website I frequent: "Sometimes the bad things that happen in our lives put us directly on the path to the best things that will ever happen to us".

Yes. That can happen. And this is what I try to focus on when I have my bad days, or my really bad days, and whenever I get frustrated by the effects that my mental health has upon my abilities and everyday life. Because it isn't all fun and games. It is often a struggle and a battle. But bit by bit, I am going to strive to get closer towards my dreams. It wasn't the way I wanted to follow to get there, but I'll take this opportunity to build my life up again in a way that gives me satisfaction.

This is one of the reasons I have started this blog. Because if some part of my journey before and onward, how I cope with my situation and slowly build up a full life in spite of things, can help or inspire somebody else struggling with some illness or accident which means their lives take a turn down a totally unexpected - and undesired - path, then that is worth sharing.

Crash and Burn

So.

Today I had planned on bringing you a post about the Cluck Brigade. That is, about my chickens. That is not going to happen. Because yesterday in the late afternoon I experienced one of my crash and burn episodes.

What is a crash and burn episode? Basically, it is when I have been doing pretty okay up to when suddenly, out of the blue, I'm no longer doing okay. Where my brain just ceases to function, and small things suddenly turn into huge obstacles, and slightly challenging tasks turn into impenetrable mountain ranges.

There is only one thing to do when that happens, and that is to accept that your brain is not going to be up to anything more that day, and immediately cancel all plans for the rest of that day, and just try to make it through.

Often this means that the next day will have to be slow. Not necessarily nothing going on, but I need to make sure there's lots of time to relax and recover.

So, why do these crash and burn events happen? Well, my guess is that I have probably been overdoing things during the previous days. Perhaps not enough to notice it. But enough to be adding up on an invisible calculator, and then at some point, BOOM! Crash and burn, baby, crash and burn.

I suspect that this particular incident has its roots in my very productive Friday morning where I think I managed to run four or five errands and go into four different shops. I did take the rest of the Friday off, and had a slow Saturday, but I probably should have been slower the following days too.

The good thing about this episode is that it has been a while since the previous one, and that I was actually able to realize I was in the process of crashing and was able to catch myself before burning. Also, I was pretty fortunate to have started prepping for supper rather early, because this meant I was more or less done with the cooking when it happened. So I had a decent supper. I have a small stock of miso sachets and soba noodles or instant noodle packets for times like these. Because feeding myself becomes one of the huge obstacles during a crash and burn.

So yesterday I had to give up hopes of writing about the chickens and finding pics, and also cancel my participation in the local garden society board meeting. Not least because it involved a long car drive, and I do NOT want to be behind the wheel at these times. Our traffic is not massive, but I wouldn't trust my reaction skills if anything out of the ordinary happened. And my brain is still not up to hunting for pics and writing non-rambling posts. So you'll have to wait for next week for a formal introduction to the chickens, and settle for me rambling.