Moment in time

16 03 2014

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How shall I begin to capture the moments of my last six months ? I’m not sure how many times I’ve wanted to write about them, but I manage some words and have to start all over again at a different time. They say Nikolai Astrup, a painter from my birth place, left many pictures unfinished, and I see the same tendency myself. I have about 40 drafts on my blog and even when I publish something new, I’m haunted by the stories I wanted to share and write.

This weekend has been about traveling, both physically from one place to another and metaphorically from one memory and thought to another. I have loved sitting with my head against the bus-window with an audiobook on my ear, while I watch the Norwegian mountain in all their mighty colors. My mood has been very present the last week, and I owe that to several things: I am moving from one apartment to another, and changes always whirl up emotional dust. Another reason for ample emotional occurrences, is the endings and beginnings in relationships.

I’ve worked for over three years now and an right now in a phase where many of my clients have gotten better. Some therapies has come to an end, and like Andrew Solomon wrote about himself: Sometimes I am so afraid of loosing the present that I find it hard to move on. To follow people, either professionally or personally, a long time also means accepting that it must end. To say goodbye to individual stories, is emotional, even when you know it’s right.

I started my blog two years ago, when my ex left me. Still I feel knots inside when I remember what we had and what I could have done different. This week I saw him again for the first time in over 6 months. He was one of the main singers in a musical, with the title ‘c.r.a.z.y in love’. One of my best friends sat next to me, and put her hand upon mine as my tears streamed when he opened the show by sining ‘to really love a woman’. I hoped it would be un eventful, but I knew I had to go through it. I felt better after some songs, but found myself in a emotional turmoil the day after it ended. I was prepared for some reaction, and have let it come, practicing mindfulness and calm breathing. I have went through regret, memories and loneliness all over again, and the need to get answers has once more haunted my thoughts.

It’s started to get late. I am in my bad as I write and think about the last months. I can honestly say that I’m proud of myself: I’ve stood in difficult feelings and held my head up high. I’ve told myself I should be happy that I can love so deeply that
My cuts still hurt two years after the injury. I’d rather love with all off me than hide beneath the covers and feel nothing.

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kind in heart

24 02 2014

We all need The sound of voices through the silence

The events in Ukraine has triggered to many of us. We start to think about evil and injustice. If you think too much about that, it`s easy to feel helpless and scared. Completely natural and reasonable, but if we only focus on the bad things, we feel powerless. A dear friend of me lost a friend in Ukraine, and my heart reaches out to her and all the people who lost their lives because they dared to break the silence that many of us worship. Luckily, I know the power of breaking the silence. Like a freeing laugh in a tense situation, speaking up releases a cascade of reactions sorely needed. Put you`r imagination on fire and mentally hug your ability to change things. Who knows, you might be the person who started the chain reaction, leading to a better world for us all.

For people in need of more inspiration to battle helplessness, these pictures and this site might give you the necessary encouragement.

The sound of the second violin | Mirrorgirl

Let us change the world

Weekly Writing Challenge

The Project20130421-182324.jpg

 

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The Project

 

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Unsaid words:

  1. Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence | MAGGIE’S BLOG
  2. Milgram, Behavioural Study of Obedience
  3. Heightened Senses | Reality to Randomness
  4. Screaming in Silence | Reaching for the Stars
  5. Silence | Grilled Cheese (& Other Things That Make My World Go ‘Round)
  6. Tears over Gravlax | Not the Family Business!
  7. Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence « Mama Bear Musings
  8. The sound of silence | sixmonthsinaweek
  9. The sound of silence: | D Lonely Stoner
  10. Sound of Silence | Musings of Shawn
  11. The sound of silence | all my likes
  12. My Brother and the Silence | jen groeber: mama art
  13. Mute | MightWar
  14. Letters from the Silence – 20th February, 2014 | Wired With Words
  15. The Sound of Screaming Silence | anniethinksabout
  16. The Last Minority | Deliberating Dave
  17. Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence | medicinalmeadows
  18. In Retrospect, a Response to a Poem I Wrote as a Teen | The Positivity Project
  19. Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence | Home that We Built
  20. This is Silence | abundance in the boondocks
  21. ” “ | tabularin0a
  22. The Cruel Silence. | Abstractions of Life
  23. Within the Sounds of Silence ~ Weekly Writing Challenge | DCTdesigns Creative Canvas
  24. The Sound of Silence | DragonReader
  25. The Strength of the Quiet Moment | Songs Of Support
  26. Thought Connections | “Aspernauts” and other musings…
  27. The Sound of Silence | Life Sans God
  28. It’s Noisy Being Human | noontimethoughts
  29. meeting place | yi-ching lin photography
  30. » Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence | Chiquitita
  31. Void | The Salt
  32. Am I A Jedi? Oprah, Chopra, and Yoda Weigh In | a contract
  33. The Sound of Silence – Ramblings from the Swamp
  34. Silencing – Rose Glace’s Blog
  35. The language of silence | Emovere
  36. A Cacophony of Silence | A Wild One Within
  37. Unsaid | Silver.Boox
  38. my tug-of-war with SILENCE | YES i WONDER…
  39. Breaking His Silence | Focal Breeze
  40. The Countdown | Omnithings
  41. The Sound of Silence – a short story | Thingiemajingie
  42. Thoughts on Sarajevo | roastbeefandrakija
  43. Enter Silence | The Silver Leaf Journal
  44. Rarity of Quiet | Corned Beef Hashtag
  45. Gray silence | Stories from aside
  46. School Vacation Routine for Parents | A Fit and Focused Future
  47. DP Weekly Writing Challenge: Silence | Phylor’s Blog
  48. On the art of better living | soulfoood
  49. DP challenge: silence | shape shifting
  50. Orion 83 – Part 5 – The Silence | L5GN
  51. the (not always so) sweet sound of silence | serene interior designs
  52. Silence | The Wonder of Yarrow House
  53. I DROVE IN SILENCE | I’m How Old?!
  54. Mute | Of love, life and such magic
  55. The Wait Of Silence | Wise Blood
  56. Searching for Silence | Dance With Madness
  57. Man-Made | martha0stout
  58. Scenes From the Lobby | pryorities
  59. Adjustment Periods Are THE WORST… | Grilled Cheese (& Other Things That Make My World Go ‘Round)
  60. The Sound of Silence on the Set on Mt. Tamalpais (Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence) | The San Francisco Scene–Seen!
  61. Sounds of Silence | bethanyah
  62. Dawn’s Silence #poetry #photography | Moondustwriter’s Blog
  63. The Silent Treatment | fingerprintwriting
  64. Silence of my home | The Word Trance
  65. Is it Really Golden? | Testing the Strength I Have
  66. Hue Of Silence | Views Splash!
  67. Riding Accident – A response to wordpress “silence” writing challenge | pocketfulofrocks
  68. Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence | Moonlight Reflections
  69. Of Gods and Men | Alyeska-Arts
  70. Tune of Silence | dandelionsinwind
  71. Silence is Deafening | mary’s blog
  72. The Sound Of Silence | remindyourmind
  73. The Sound of Silence | Alexia Jones
  74. Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence, 23.02.14 | Markie’s Daily Blog
  75. Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence | Abby vs. The World
  76. Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence | Basically Beyond Basic
  77. Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence | jinyasa
  78. What You Can Hear in the Silence | krstokely
  79. The Sound of Silence: Can You Imagine It? | Just Be V
  80. The sound of breaking the silence | Free advice from a clinical psychologist
  81. Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence | Heauxdolly
  82. The Sound Of Silence | Here is my life, to share with the worldWWC: The Sound of Silence | The Crucial Kiwi
  83. The Sound of Silence | The Joy of Health Nutrition and Beauty
  84. A Silent Hunt. | The Shady Tree
  85. Silence Speaks Louder Than Words | Creative Mysteries
  86. Silence of the Cat | The Adventures of Cat Madigan
  87. Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence #writing | Of Glass & Paper
  88. The sound of … | How to write a memo
  89. Behind the Facade of the Narcissist’s Silent Treatment | An Upturned Soul
  90. Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence – Breaking the Barrier | humanTriumphant
  91. The Painting On The Wall | Midnight Butterfly
  92. Weekly Writing Challenge: Silent Screams | NOWHERE TO RUN
  93. Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence | MARGARET ROSE STRINGER
  94. The Sound of Silence | 101 Challenges in 1001 Days
  95. Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence | To Breathe is to Write
  96. Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence | Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss
  97. Hush me again, I can’t stand it. | May van Reenen
  98. it’s haircut day | Musings of a Random Mind
  99. My Quest for the Sound of Silence | Schizo Incognito
  100. No Curse | scottishmomus
  101. Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence | The Wandering Poet




The sound of angel wings

14 02 2014

I know heaven must be beautiful right now
Cause they got you, babe

To my friend Niko, who was brought back to heaven October 2013.

I also dedicate this to her true love, continuing the war against stigma on her behalf. Read more about them here

compassionDonate and help her fulfill her wish (to the Kindness project) on : Mirrorgirl: My life as a psychologist. The most of the money will be given to guest writers and to promote the kindness project.

 





If that`s not very nice, than what is?

12 02 2014

Yesterday I put all my energy in a cup. I had a clear image of how the energy looked: Colorful, pulsing and vivid. It sparkled in its entire splendor, barely contained by the cup`s wall. I was happy. Happy that I could do what I wanted, without anyone noticing or scolding me. My total freedom to see and dream and live, threatened to overflow the boundaries of what I thought was possible.  I thought:  So what? If sparkling energy spills over, into the table, out in the environment, is that the worst thing that can happen? Or like Kurt Vonnegut would have said: If this isn`t nice, I don`t know what is.

More:

A Man Without a Country Quotes by Kurt Vonnegut – Goodreads

 Random acts of kindness week





Random acts of kindness week

5 02 2014

compassionThe following week is the “Random acts of Kindness” week. I love the idea, and hope this initiative will continue the following years. By doing small things for others, I believe the world can get better. Naivè? Maybe. But it won`t hurt to try

    1. The following week is the “Random acts of Kindness” week. I love the idea, and hope this initiative will continue the following years. By doing small things for others, I believe the world can get better. Naivè? Maybe. But it won`t hurt to try

Examples like these are more and more common. For every smile, there is one second of happiness. But what could happen if every one of us did one kind thing. Every week? 

mirrorgirl





It`s all in her head

3 02 2014


It’s AlI in Her Head is a dynamic collection of finely crafted, stigma-busting stories by a diverse group of women who have struggled with a range of mental challenges, from mild dysthymia to full-blown schizophrenia.


Mannen weten alles beter! Althans dat denken ze zelf. Maar waarom eigenlijk?
Pinned by Greg 

The statistics are alarming: one in six American adults suffers from a diagnosable mental illness such as depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, ADHD, phobia, PTSD, eating disorders, or addiction. Half of all Americans struggle with some form of mental illness at some time in their lives. Many millions more face the challenges of less-clinical, still-problematic conditions, such as worry, pessimism, and self-criticism. Doubly alarming is the underreported fact that most of these people are women.

On an epidemiological level, women are 2-3 times more likely to suffer depression and anxiety than men; women are 3 times more likely to attempt suicide than men; women constitute 90% of people with eating disorders. Furthermore, studies show that women of color are over-represented in mental health statistics, and frequently receive sub-standard care.

Leaving aside the question of whether and/or how gender disparities in mental health are attributable to biological differences in the brains of women and men, certainly cultural factors are partly to blame. Women’s emotions and ideas are frequently invalidated; our status in the workplace is undervalued; we are socialized against prioritizing ourselves and our health; and we are expected to remain cheerful despite all these things. Culturally, we are encouraged to distance ourselves from, distrust, and discount our emotions and our thoughts, which can exacerbate mood disorders and other psychological difficulties.

Still, an enormous number of women have found ways to cope with their challenges and lead productive, creative, intellectually and emotionally satisfying lives. They’ve ferreted out helpful treatments, medications, practices, habits, and other mechanisms that enable them to make peace with their troubled minds.

How have they done it? How have you done it? It’s All in Her Head strives to provide readers with a glimpse into the successful strategies exercised by women whose persistent mental difficulties were met head on with something else in her head: resiliency, resourcefulness, intelligence, determination, and strength. Essays also include the powerful part played by supportive partners, health care providers, peers, family and friends.

Please consider adding your voice to this collection. There are far too many women who are in need of help. The involvement of talented writers will catapult this project into a realm that will have the most reach and influence, to those who need its wisdom most

Recent Posts





How long have I got left?

2 02 2014

How Long Have I Got Left?

Reblog By PAUL KALANITHIJAN. 24, 2014

People react differently to hearing “Procedure X has a 70 percent chance of survival” and “Procedure Y has a 30 percent chance of death.” Phrased that way, people flock to Procedure X, even though the numbers are the same. When a close friend developed pancreatic cancer, I became the medical maven to a group of people who were sophisticated statisticians. I still dissuaded them from looking up the statistics, saying five-year survival curves are at least five years out of date. Somehow I felt that the numbers alone were too dry, or that a physician’s daily experience with illness was needed for context. Mostly, I felt that impulse: Keep a measure of hope.

These survival curves, called Kaplan-Meier curves, are one way we measure progress in cancer treatment, plotting the number of patients surviving over time. For some diseases, the line looks like an airplane gently beginning its descent; for others, like a dive bomber. Physicians think a lot about these curves, their shape, and what they mean. In brain-cancer research, for example, while the numbers for average survival time haven’t changed much, there’s an increasingly long tail on the curve, indicating a few patients are living for years. The problem is that you can’t tell an individual patient where she is on the curve. It’s impossible, irresponsible even, to be more precise than you can be accurate.

One would think, then, that when my oncologist sat by my bedside to meet me, I would not immediately demand information on survival statistics. But now that I had traversed the line from doctor to patient, I had the same yearning for the numbers all patients ask for. I hoped she would see me as someone who both understood statistics and the medical reality of illness, that she would give me certainty, the straight dope. I could take it. She flatly refused: “No. Absolutely not.” She knew very well I could — and did — look up all the research on the topic. But lung cancer wasn’t my specialty, and she was a world expert. At each appointment, a wrestling match began, and she always avoided being pinned down to any sort of number.

20130602-215116.jpgNow, instead of wondering why some patients persist in asking statistics questions, I began to wonder why physicians obfuscate when they have so much knowledge and experience. Initially when I saw my CT scan, I figured I had only a few months to live. The scan looked bad. I looked bad. I’d lost 30 pounds, developed excruciating back pain and felt more fatigued every day. My tests revealed severely low protein levels and low blood counts consistent with the body overwhelmed, failing in its basic drive to sustain itself.

For a few months, I’d suspected I had cancer. I had seen a lot of young patients with cancer. So I wasn’t taken aback. In fact, there was a certain relief. The next steps were clear: Prepare to die. Cry. Tell my wife that she should remarry, and refinance the mortgage. Write overdue letters to dear friends. Yes, there were lots of things I had meant to do in life, but sometimes this happens: Nothing could be more obvious when your day’s work includes treating head trauma and brain cancer.

But on my first visit with my oncologist, she mentioned my going back to work someday. Wasn’t I a ghost? No. But then how long did I have? Silence.

Of course, she could not stop my intense reading. Poring over studies, I kept trying to find the one that would tell me when my number would be up. The large general studies said that between 70 and 80 percent of lung cancer patients would die within two years. They did not allow for much hope. But then again, most of those patients were older and heavy smokers. Where was the study of nonsmoking 36-year-old neurosurgeons? Maybe my youth and health mattered? Or maybe my disease was found so late, had spread so far, and I was already so far gone that I was worse off than those 65-year-old smokers.

Many friends and family members provided anecdotes along the lines of my-friend’s-friend’s-mom’s-friend or my-uncle’s-barber’s-son’s-tennis-partner has this same kind of lung cancer and has been living for 10 years. Initially I wondered if all the stories referred to the same person, connected through the proverbial six degrees. I disregarded them as wishful thinking, baseless delusion. Eventually, though, enough of those stories seeped in through the cracks of my studied realism.

And then my health began to improve, thanks to a pill that targets a specific genetic mutation tied to my cancer. I began to walk without a cane and to say things like, “Well, it’s pretty unlikely that I’ll be lucky enough to live for a decade, but it’s possible.” A tiny drop of hope.

In a way, though, the certainty of death was easier than this uncertain life. Didn’t those in purgatory prefer to go to hell, and just be done with it? Was I supposed to be making funeral arrangements? Devoting myself to my wife, my parents, my brothers, my friends, my adorable niece? Writing the book I had always wanted to write? Or was I supposed to go back to negotiating my multiyear job offers?

The path forward would seem obvious, if only I knew how many months or years I had left. Tell me three months, I’d just spend time with family. Tell me one year, I’d have a plan (write that book). Give me 10 years, I’d get back to treating diseases. The pedestrian truth that you live one day at a time didn’t help: What was I supposed to do with that day? My oncologist would say only: “I can’t tell you a time. You’ve got to find what matters most to you.”

I began to realize that coming face to face with my own mortality, in a sense, had changed both nothing and everything. Before my cancer was diagnosed, I knew that someday I would die, but I didn’t know when. After the diagnosis, I knew that someday I would die, but I didn’t know when. But now I knew it acutely. The problem wasn’t really a scientific one. The fact of death is unsettling. Yet there is no other way to live.

The reason doctors don’t give patients specific prognoses is not merely because they cannot. Certainly, if a patient’s expectations are way out of the bounds of probability — someone expecting to live to 130, or someone thinking his benign skin spots are signs of impending death — doctors are entrusted to bring that person’s expectations into the realm of reasonable possibility.

But the range of what is reasonably possible is just so wide. Based on today’s therapies, I might die within two years, or I might make it to 10. If you add in the uncertainty based on new therapies available in two or three years, that range may be completely different. Faced with mortality, scientific knowledge can provide only an ounce of certainty: Yes, you will die. But one wants a full pound of certainty, and that is not on offer.

82e286270dbd7d085204a944fe240ce7What patients seek is not scientific knowledge doctors hide, but existential authenticity each must find on her own. Getting too deep into statistics is like trying to quench a thirst with salty water. The angst of facing mortality has no remedy in probability.

I remember the moment when my overwhelming uneasiness yielded. Seven words from Samuel Beckett, a writer I’ve not even read that well, learned long ago as an undergraduate, began to repeat in my head, and the seemingly impassable sea of uncertainty parted: “I can’t go on. I’ll go on.” I took a step forward, repeating the phrase over and over: “I can’t go on. I’ll go on.” And then, at some point, I was through.

I am now almost exactly eight months from my diagnosis. My strength has recovered substantially. In treatment, the cancer is retreating. I have gradually returned to work. I’m knocking the dust off scientific manuscripts. I’m writing more, seeing more, feeling more. Every morning at 5:30, as the alarm clock goes off, and my dead body awakes, my wife asleep next to me, I think again to myself: “I can’t go on.” And a minute later, I am in my scrubs, heading to the operating room, alive: “I’ll go on.”

Paul Kalanithi is a chief resident in neurological surgery at Stanford University.

mirrorgirl

General introduction to “Mirrorgirl”

 








Emma Cownie Artist

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aspergerinformator

en opplysningsblogg om Asperger syndrom

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Advice. Staircase Wit. Faux Pas. Movies.

Emma Cownie Artist

Swansea and Gower Contemporary Artist

AdilaMKarol

Keep it simple, but significant!

The Word Forge

Casting truth, melting down golden calves

Neurodivergent Rebel

Rebelling against a culture that values assimilation over individuality.

Human Life Run

Mistakes Are Reality Of Life.Lets Understand and Move on!!

Solace

with Jason Lee, Author of Living with the Dragon

Logical Quotes

Logical and Inspirational Quotes

jennifersekella

This WordPress.com site is the bee's knees

MAKE ME UP MARIE

An authentic lifestyle blog and open journal | Written by Marie Penrose

raynotbradbury

We are cups, constantly being filled. The trick is, knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out.

Oriana's Notes

Just some stuff you might like. Or not. What do I know about you.

Child of Cynicism

"We're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl year after year."

Eric's Corner of the Globe

Within the confines of one's mind lay the keys to eternity

Musings of PuppyDoc

Poetry & Medicine

Invisible Illnesses

Awareness, Education, Research & Quips

aspergerinformator

en opplysningsblogg om Asperger syndrom

Captain Awkward

Advice. Staircase Wit. Faux Pas. Movies.