Some days ago I wrote
about A STRANGE ANNIVERSARY, and
ended with Shirley Bassey’s renditon of “My
or glamorous, and I did not stand tall … it was more of a grungy trek
through tangled thickets in order to get to a place where I could stretch my
time ago, when I walked away from conventional wisdom on how to “heal”. Mindfulness
wasn’t a thing then, but after more than 20 years of letting go and
meditation and all the other tools, in many different frames and guises, I finally had to admit
to myself that this was not working. I was not unloading old crap and walking
towards a craplesser future – the crap kept coming back, just like the cat in this
So I began to let go
of something else: all the tiny automatic switches that ruled my
no-feel/no-show response to invasions of my Self.
good. I came on 50% sick leave in 2009 with symptoms of fibromyalgia. Now I am
doing a normal day’s work, my body does not hurt any more, my cholesterol is
down, and so is my blood pressure and my weight.
translating some notes from my journey, and there’s even a happy ending.
my file from the local District Psychiatric Centre (DPC) today, and I am in
tears over the not-seeing and sick-making that it contains.
that answers to «Do you really have to do this?» and «Can’t you just put it
behind you?» have to be «yes» and «no».
away for a while to go through this file thoroughly. But first I have to do the
“scan and puke” thing again. The last time I did it, my back was much less
stiff afterwards, and I wonder if it will get better this time, too.
about a poem by Stein Mehren that begins like this:
I no longer ask so often
who I am
I show it
so that others can show me
what I mean to them
This poem was with me constantly in the late 80s too, and in the file from DPC
I can see how clearly I showed who I was. And the Health
Services documented a paranoid and projecting borderline psychotic who demonstrated omnipotent control.
Services show me now?
a plan. To continue detangling, and be able to do a full day’s work in a year.
Right now, that looks realistic. I am 62 years old, and I hope to continue
translating and writing until I am well past 70.
I have achieved a lot in this year, and that has had a good effect on my eating
problems and fibromyalgia symptoms. There is progress.
using now, I got rid of seasonal depressions in the 80s. And because of what
happened then, I get post-traumatic stress reactions – again – when I try to
tell my GP why I need to do things my way.
pressure and cholesterol, and not about “that mental stuff”.
is the psychiatrist who supervised another GP into borderlining me. And that
other GP is now District Health Supervisor. And they have not reassessed their
knowledge about me.
to go my way … and continue working with that mental stuff. The problem is
that I need to base my work on my actual problems, my actual knowledge
and experience … none of which align with psychiatric realities.
realities, I want to take a closer look at the concept of grandiosity, which “… refers to an
unrealistic sense of superiority, a sustained view of oneself as better than
others that causes the narcissist to view others with disdain or as inferior.
It also refers to a sense of uniqueness, the belief that few others have
anything in common with oneself and that one can only be understood by a few or
very special people.”
unique. I still think that I am unique, like every single human being on this
earth is unique. So what?
much in common with what Ibsen calls “the compact
majority”. And I still think that. And that is natural for a
person who constantly finds herself on the bias of normal, both by nature and
because I grew up a Third
Culture Kid, and my “… sense of belonging is in relationship to others
of similar background”.
always known people who understand what I am talking about. Which is why I was
able to notice when my opinions were not understood in the health services. And
it is why I notice when they still are not understood there.
childhood victim of adult sexual use, until the end of 1992, when the Chief
County Medical Physician asserted that I did not have opinions, (link
to Norwegian document here) I tried to communicate with professionals who
listened with deaf ears.
only heard emotions, delusions and symptoms.
how this correct and legal mental health care slowly and almost imperceptively
corroded my identity as an autonomous, thinking person.
can only be free of the victim role when I see what I was a victim of.
I need to be able to trust the Health Services. I need to know that I have a
right to think and have independent viewpoints in interactions with the
that right when it is self-evident that I have viewpoints until the opposite is
in the Health Services, I need to know it.
the opposite is proved. And the symptoms are not falsifiable. They cannot be
disproved. A Catch 22 situation.
Earlier this year, I wrote:
“realities” in the HS, I thought that I had the same rights there that a
lawbreaker has in the Judicial System:
A right to know what I am suspected of.
A right to accusations that are so precise that
they can be disproved.
A right to self-defense.
A right to take responsibility for my own
not seem to be compatible with legal mental health care.
realized a long time ago. I cannot change others, but I can notice and
evaluate what they do. And that also goes for the HS.
gives distance, and I needed almost 20 years of distance before I could
look back at what happened. And now I need time to fix the damage. And I need to take the time
it takes, no matter how long it takes.
identity and my integrity.
a bind. So I need a situation where my GP does not have to choose between
believing me or his psychiatric area supervisor (PAS) and his district health supervisor (DHS).
front of witnesses what I often had said
to the PAS and the DHS privately: “I accept your statements as your
opinions, your interpretations of reality. I cannot agree that these statements
are “realities” about my life and my problems. Therefore I suggest
that we agree to disagree”.
ombudsman for patients. And I have a block about doing that. Because …
Decent Society», Avishai Margalit writes:
one whose institutions do not humiliate the people under their authority, and
whose citizens do not humiliate one another.”
if mental help services stopped legally humiliating the people they are supposed to
write more now, so there will be a proper update later.
since my last appointment.
it does not exist in the HS.
appointment, and enormously much better than the time before that, when I could
not come to my appointment because of post-traumatic stress reactions.
pressure is probably way high, and I don’t give a frak!
and it will take the time it takes. Taking shortcuts would be like fiddling
with an arithemetic problem to get the correct answer.
And I think: There they are.
I see thick layers of dust.
And I think: There they are
I see woods I can walk in.
And I think: There they are
I see mountains of clutter.
And I think: There they are
Everything is THERE.
Where I am not.
I am here.
Sinking into my life.
Accepting what I find there.
Not-achieving is the greatest achievement.
A year ago I began
And my body.
Millimeter by millimeter.
Not with pressure and will power.
With confidence and permission.
Confidence in Resistance.
Permission to be aware of Resistance.
Resistance knows that I notice.
I began to allow my fear of death to surface.
Allow the thoughts and fears that Resistance hides
in my many millimeters of body tissue.
Allow the tiny, frail reactions that fear has hidden.
Millimeter by millimeter,
three millimeters forwards and two back,
my body is becoming a part of me.
No longer a hostage to society’s need
for delusions of niceness.
And now my body shows that it is ready for change.
We have been here before, Body and I,
This time I will do it differently.
It is easy to see the
smile. And I was lucky, I met good helpers who also saw the anxiety, loneliness
and confusion. These people gave me something very important, silent
acceptance, a friendly presence, a safe place where I could put aside my smile
and rest for a while.
acceptance and a friendly presence.
So I know that they are.
And because I know
what they are, I now can give silent acceptance and a friendly presence to
She cannot speak, she has no mouth.
And I have been ashamed of her. I have denied her as long as I can remember, so
she is almost lifeless. And I recently stopped Action Man, who is another part
of me, from killing and burying her. And I am not crazy, I just have very
interesting dreams, and I use archetypes and metaphors to find and tell the
stories that I otherwise would have no
Thing has slowly been allowed to emerge. And she wants to write her own story
with her own words.
that is OK with Pollyanna and Action Man.
knows, she knows not.
huge stitches of shame.
landscape of others.
Man in Ingrid.
mouth of Thing.
me see me
body in virtual mother arms. Cut off the virtual stitches that have closed
the virtual mouth. I love the silenced, exhausted, harmed little virtual being
that is a part of me with aching heart.
with stitches of shame.
knew that you had no mouth.
from my life.
stops there. The concept of forgiveness is far from the thought frames of
Thing. Is it possible to forgive a life in voiceless isolation?
far from my thought frames. In asking for forgiveness, I can only make Thing a
cog in a story that makes me feel better.
world: to see what is.
UPDATE JANUARY 11, 2014:
Thing is now Littlest. Still not very verbal, but communicating constantly.