humans
The sound of trash
I`m hooked on you
I need a fix
I can’t take it
Just one more hit
I promise I can deal with it
I’ll handle it, quit it
Just one more time
Then that’s it
Just a little bit more to get me through this
Hope Bird.
Great idea from a blogger who want to inspire people to be there for others! A small way to make a contribution:)
Sometimes when I’m doing my re-blogging on Tumblr, and endlessly scrolling through the dashboard, I come across something that makes me feel – ‘yes, this is important.’ It’s a simple way of saying – ‘I’m here, and I’ll listen.’
This is for everyone who stumbles across my blog, or reads it regularly, who makes me feel all warm and fuzzy when you ‘like’ my blog posts or even – hey – comment. People who need someone to vent to or who need a friend, just for a moment, or forever. No matter how far away you are. I’m a good listener. I won’t judge you or think any less of you if you’re going through something.
So without further ado, I introduce Hopebird, the brainchild (or heartchild?) of Rubicon’s Art, a blogger and artist on Tumblr. This is what Hopebird is about:
‘This is hopebird.
Hopebird is a…
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Coping With Trauma-Related Dissociation
I have started to write about one of the psychological terms I really love to work and help people with, dissociation. The following entry is from the blog Mad in Vermont and might clarify a bit what dissociation really is, because she has experienced it herself. I really recommend this for everyone who like to know more about the world and care about the people in it!
Have a wonderful Sunday!
Coping With Trauma-Related Dissociation.
from madinvt.wordpress.com
The sound of humanity
I’m here, at my hotel room in one of the richest countries in the world, were we try to care about as many people as possible, even the ones who do wrong. Many were stunned by the dignified reactions after 22th of July, where one man killed hundreds of innocent teens for twisted ideological reasons. Most people in our country, got together in every city to pay their respect for the relatives who lost children, and for the political system we live in. We wanted to show that we didn’t react the same way as he did, blaming others that eventually just feeds hate and war.
In norway it’s the norm that you give money to charity, and right now there’s a record in memberships in volunteer organizations. We want to help, and often we do.
But still, there is so much poverty, suffering and unfairness in this word, and sometimes I feel the weight of it on my shoulder. I feel a bit bad for staying in a hotel with a warm bed and safe room, when many in Russia right now are freezing to death. I can go out and buy all the food I need, when so many people right now desperately try to find something to eat, so that their children can live yet another day.
Right now I’m reading nothing to envy by Barbara Demick, that describes the unbelievable, a harsh reality that can be hard to digest. Sweeping misery under the rug, helps us feeling well and comfortable. Many react on unfairness with negative feelings. It feels terrible that there’s so much that should be done, while we go about our life thinking mostly about ourselves or others close to us. It’s scary to think about how much we don’t do, it opens a whole drawer full of other revelations: We’re ignoring suffering around us, feeling there is nothing we can do, feeling helpless and that hope is nowhere near. Some protect themselves by blaming others: political systems, lazy people or bad leaders. Some try to block it out, like looking down when we pass hungry people on the street, and some try to actually do something, so that the feeling (I’m a good person) actually fits with our behavior (doing good). What alternative do you choose? Maybe you don’t have a choice: ‘charity begins with a full stomach’ (from nothing to envy, p. 167)
Source: ministryoffairies.tumblr.com via Kate on Pinterest
Helping doesn’t mean that we can’t do things for ourselves also. Actually it’s the other way around, people taking care of their needs, have more energy available for the next of kin, they love to make somebody smile: by donating clothes twice a year, by touching somebody’s shoulder when they look unhappy, or helping a old lady who lose her bag. It’s finding the person who lost their cat, it’s stopping when somebody need a lift, it’s looking people in the eye and offering assistance when you feel somebody need it. With people caring, with media caring it forces political systems to also take caring seriously, those political parties give a good impression, and we want that more today than earlier when we had enough with our own problems.
There is so much we can do, every day, to inspire others, and I promise: Nothing will make you feel better. Be how you think you are, as often as possible.
The sound of London and Me
Thee train is pulling me further and further away from all the Britishness I learned to love on the Asia-trip. I`ve just waved goodbye to Hannah, Gemma and my fantastic friend Matt.
The funny thing was that it didn’t feel like it was 5 months since we saw each other, it was like coming home; Strange considering it was my first time in London.
Gemma just had her exam, and was a bit tired, but it was hard to notice, since nothing in the world can stop her from being just marvelous. She’s one of a kind, and it was lovely seeing her. Hannah was also full of life, that she spread all around her with vigor. We talked about all we could on the hours we had, and I couldn’t feel better.
One day later, and I`m sitting on the train to Gatwick, listening to stars by Nelly furtado, which makes me calm and happy. It’s so beautiful outside; The skyline colored pink, the grass blessed with thousands small snow crystals. I’ve had my tea, warming me to the core with blissful contentment. I feel completely free and ready for whatever my destiny will bring.
Even if I didn’t get much sleep last night either, it seems like my body has adjusted to it, so that I don’t feel the tiredness. Everything was completely worth it. Life should be like this, doing what you feel without regretting anything. Seeing Gemma and Hannah was fantastic, like I hoped for.
We ate in Chinatown and then went for the most amazing unhealthy sin: Ice cream at haegens. I’ve also had a good day before that, even if my luck for practical coincidences has left me for the time (which is completely okay, since maybe my loveometer is finally ready to warm up again, after being far to occupied with staying under freezing-point at any time)
Some days later, I’m sitting in a hotel in the capital city of Norway, in a different mood. I’m waiting for a friend I will hang out without this evening, and I`m a bit restless. I’ve overslept today, since I hadn`t turned on the sound on my iPhone, so suddenly the clock was 10.00 in the morning, and I came late for the course I’m attending. Honestly, wasn’t one of my top days, since I was ‘being a therapist’ in front of the group we were divided into, and frankly became too friendly with some of my nerves. I was unfocused and almost asked questions at random.
It’s not good when you want something so much, that you lose it exactly because of it; A never-ending theme it seems. Even worse, by one more crazy coincidence, I ended up in a group where my earlier therapist was. I so look up to her, and maybe wanted to show her that I developed since I went to her, but I don’t think I managed to do anything else than make myself miserable. It was so strange to see her again, in that setting. She knew I would be there, but I hadn’t checked the attending list before, so I was one big knot of confusion and surprise when I saw her.
We got the chance to talk a little, and I said where I work, and that I’m doing good. She said: I always knew you would make it, and that was so lovely to hear. A therapist means so much to the people who come to them, and being with her gave me such respect to what a person can accomplish in somebody’s else’s life, that I always wanted to give others the same, and I wanted her to see that I’ve learned that from her, exactly HOW much she meant, but just couldn’t.
I guess we all have experiences like that, and it’s not the end of the world, but I’m still thinking about it and must probably mull it over for a while.
Some days later, and I’m not thinking too much about it. The rest of my time in Oslo was brilliant, I met old friends and also said hello to new ones. Should actually been in Førde by know, but the plane is two hours late, so there won’t be many pieces of the day left when I return. Tomorrow it’s back to work, and that will be okay. Always a little anticipation before I check who I will talk with that day. I hope that they managed fine the week I was away, and that there hasn`t been a crisis for any of them.
Hope my readers had a good weekend ?
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Little princess in the slum
Sometimes, my life has been like living in the slum. I`ve taken baths in muddy thoughts, surrounded myself with filth and made acquaintance with infectious rats gnawing at what they found.
At times I embraced this way of life, thinking I had no choice. I invited tornado’s into our rooms, destroying the little we had left. Sometimes I didn`t even try to wash myself since normal hygiene took too much energy. At other times, though, I desperately tried to protest and do something about our situation. I tried little things, like tidying inside, walking miles for clean water or rebelled against dirty toilets filled with reminders of how bad it can get. I`ve felt strong, capable and optimistic,
until I felt the draft of air when someone shut my personal door to Narnia . I must admit I even slammed it shut myself, in moment of bitter resentment.
The emotional moments when I could see freedom shining behind that threshold, I often met with my personal Slumdog God of Guilt. He was a stern-looking fellow, who liked to point out the obvious:”I did not deserve that freedom. Could I not see that?” He told me to stay in the slum and to not dream of a better life. How could I continue over the threshold when many poor would be left behind? How could I leave when others were dying, starving and dirty? Shouldn`t I stay there to protect them? I discussed this thoroughly with my friend Shame, who worshipped got Guilt as much as me.
Sometimes, coincidences happen. I was walking through my muddy environment in feverish hunger. My inner GPS broke down, and let me to unknown territory. When my head cleared enough to register my surroundings, I discovered the most beautiful lake I´ve ever seen. Sitting solemnly on a rock, was a calm and serene man. He turned his head and looked at me with the most talkative eyes I´ve ever said. He stretched out his hand while telling me his name: The God of Compassion. The meeting changed my life. He started to follow me everywhere, no matter what I thought about it. He came into my tent, sat down with me and our bugs, put clean sheets on my soiled bed, and gave me warm cups of energy. He told me that thinking about my needs, was also thinking about others. That by turning the energy-switch from 0 to 10 too fast, my ability to help went up in flames. He also said that by punishing myself, by hating and feeling bad for all I did not do, I only made it worse.
The little girl in the slum, God Guilt and my friend Worry were sceptic to the constant presence of him everywhere we went. Our whole lives we were told that Worry and Hard work was the only way to cope. They worshipped Shame and Guilt, and would probably have built a statue of pride for them if they would have time between the constant tasks of worrying about the state of our food ration, our deadly diseases or what we could do to prevent it from killing us kill us. God Guilt always reminded us of the work left, and when the little princess tried to sit down after scrubbing our plates and souls, God Guilt and Shame came with their whips.
God Compassion kept arriving at the little princess`s tent. He let his caramel-flavored words drizzle over
them and promised that nothing would happen if we started to relax more, or think about ourselves. His deep, soothing voice said we were not egoists, and slowly, we started to listen. His words were so sweet, like mint chocolate in our mouths. We could not resist.
To our surprise, this did not lead to punishment. By having less time for God Worry, who some still followed in thick and thin, I saw that the others must have misunderstood what God Worry meant. Maybe the transmission of God´s signal get`s warbled in the slum?
Years later, when I fought my way out of the slum by doing what felt right (no matter if my still present friends Shame and Guilt told me I must think more of others), I met more people who also knew about God Compassion, and were worshipping him instead of Worry, Shame and Doubt. This did not lead to destruction or bad things for others around them. It seemed that the more they followed G. Compassion`s way of life, the more they did for others AND for themselves.
Time and again I`ve tried to show others the truth of God Compassion, but some are always too busy to listen. They have to work, think about what might go wrong, even after everything is better and they have more of what they need. They insist on telling you what`s really important: “My car made this funny sound, so what if it breaks down tomorrow?“. Panic often fill their eyes, fogging out the beauty in plain view. When I was younger, I felt like that, too, but my God of Compassion let me rest. With his soft smile and words he told me: “Everything will be okay. If you just enjoy things now, I`m sure you`ll be able to do whatever you must when the time comes”
Today, I feel like the luckiest person on earth. I feel like a princess, even if I grew up in the slum. And do you know what the best thing is? I`ve met so many fellow slum dogs at my journey. They were also princesses, kings or little queens, but didn`t always realize it, either. All of them were kind, warm and wonderful if you let them show it, no matter how dirty they were before
More:
In the Background: Life in a Delhi Slum (thirdeyemom.com)
What is Faith without Action? (now1040.com)
The sound of letting go
People are afraid of it all. Tiny little creatures crawling on the floor, rooms where space is limited, certain thoughts and triggers evoking them, and not least: Humans. How they smile while holding a dagger behind their back, how you curl yourself up for protections from their harsh words, and how you think about jumping over the edge both in happiness and sorrow.
Pain has always been an anguish for me. When I felt it, I felt it intensely , no matter if it was physical or psychological. I tried all the strategies that I had then, to strangle it: Soothing, thinking, hiding, words that promised another and better life, mechanisms of short-term survival that did their job there and then. It worked, until new Pain knocked on my door.
New days always bring with it something else, whether its pain or joy. Its full of unknown events that always surprise you, its full of twists that`s impossible to predict, and it`s also full of strong emotions, also good ones. They are the champions presenting another reason to free your nerves from their cages, so that they can touch every aspect of it with its tiny, fast fingers.
Today also hide secrets, known only to the special few: The knowledge collected from your personal narrative. Some of the best and the worst, and lot of in-betweens. It’s the kiss you had from that special one, making you dizzy and happy to be alive, it’s the first time you stumbled, but got picked up again by a stranger, gentle and caring. It’s the tears brimming over from disappointment and loss, but thanking you for their release. This pendulum swings back and forth, like a lot of things in life. Its homeostasis, not of temperature or drug-tolerance, but of feelings. It’s the principle of balance that keeps tugging us back in a new direction, never static. Almost like the universe itself. Sometimes the pulling is stronger, and the movement leads to others moving, too. It’s the boomerang coming back, with something new on its surface from where it travelled. The air we breath in is never the same as before, it changes but does it job perfectly, all the same. We humans are even more magnificent. After change, we mostly learn and are even better adapted for emotions yet to arrive. Because they will resurface and try to pull you under water, make you cry for help and struggle with panic. But remember: You won`t drown if you remember to swim the right way, and be calm while you do it.
Integration
The overhead projector is making its electric sound from above my head, spitting out black letters on a white board. The theme is affect integration in psychotherapy, the Ph.D. Project of my colleague, Nils. He’s moving to Oslo very soon, leaving us others behind in the small place where I now have worked for two years. It’s Tuesday morning, and we always have some presentation then. Last Tuesday I was in the spotlight, talking about trauma and the treatment of it.
Psychology, like other sciences, have a lot of jargon that sometimes need explaining. On of these expression is what I will write about now, which also is what Nils I talking about. Integration. It’s really not an especially pretty word, it gives associations to the sounds produced when you drag some item over a blackboard. It’s not like the pretty Italian words, rolling around in the mouth and room like it belongs there, caressing the target. But it’s not always the pretty things that matter the most, sometimes the glitter and glamour is just that, with no depth or meaning. Integration is so much more than that, when you scratch the surface its real beauty comes alive.
Two threads are not necessarily pretty themselves. One white, and one black on are just that, naked in their aloneness, longing for a partner. It’s first when they get twined together, the whiteness surrounding the dark places, that it comes alive. Think about the yin and yang. What would it be if not the other color stood by it? What would the magic scene of schindlers list, where the redness screams for attention in an otherwise colorless movie, be without the grayness? This is, as I see it, an example of integration, where the whole is more and better than its parts. It’s like making good food, the ingredient in themselves doesn’t make the mouth water, it’s the combination that gives extra flavor and meaning.
With a lot of real life problems, this also applies. It’s the people comfortable in their own skin, accepting their natural tendencies and integrating it with society, that feel complete. If a puzzle is not put together in the way it’s meant, the result won’t be right. Fitting the wrong piece into the puzzle, doesn’t work. For a human this could be inhibiting natural tendencies like joy and sadness, because the integration of preferences and logic, doesn’t combine. It’s like trying to shape someone into what you want them to be, but no matter what, the picture will not be anything else than what it was supposed to be. If forced long enough, the person will try to keep the picture together, using superglue on those pieces that doesn’t slide together naturally. It’s some integration, but not the one meant to be.
In my work I see this every day: People want to feel joy, but shame stops it from surfacing, boys want to laugh and talk, but the thoughts of somebody disliking them, abort the tendency of fun in its first trimester. It’s even more noticeable after trauma, when a lot of different roles develop that make them follow a script, often without vigor or satisfaction. It’s memories kept away, true selves locked in closed boxes and lives never lived. It always pains me to watch this in reality: The wonderful woman, who carries Everyone else’s weight in addition to her own, the man in a destructive relationship who thinks he doesn’t have the right to be happy, or the child quenching her own happiness because she doesn’t dare to laugh in a house full of gloom. The feelings, needs and tendencies, doesn’t fit into the picture someone’s trying to make, and therefore they are hidden, forgotten or forced into the wrong part, since it has to go somewhere. This is the point when the integrated system break down, where fast solutions have to be executed to compensate for the losses and keeping the organism functioning in some way. It’s when the flower shreds some petals to keep from being blown over by harsh weather, and like the bee delivering the deadly sting to protect its queen. Who of us hasn’t experienced being defensive, destruction the very same things we really longed for?
Hopefully it’s never too late. Even when a completed picture has scratches and left-overs from glue for the sake of getting everything right for the second time, the picture can still be pretty and important. Isn’t it a fact that it’s the worn and torn pics on a scrapbook page we fall for. The old photos that tell a history of a life lived? I believe in integration. In putting pieces where they belong, even when they weren’t right the first time. I think that each time we let somebody just be, whoever they are, we are helping them patch up the wrongs, and even adding the little extra that self-confident people spread without knowing it. We are all small saviors, plucking harmony and tolerance and watering others with it.
Mirrorgirl 
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