Brave

"Do you know the social services have a disability program that covers mental disorders?”

Fingers are cold, I feel like there’s a hole inside of me. Yes, I know about this program. But it's one thing to know about it exists, and another to hear you psychologist mention it. Because it's one thing to be afraid that you might end up in that program and another to hear a third party, a psychologist that observes you mentioning it.

How is it to graduate with a masters degree, to work on film sets, to earn enough money with freelance, to become an executive producer of an 3D feature film and now end up being unable to work? Being unable to get up in the mornings and even if you get up not knowing if you’ll be able to focus at all. Because sometimes for months your maximum is to brush your teeth.

It’s scary. It is probably my biggest fear now. I am afraid of helplessness. I am afraid that I will not be able, not only to get a job, if necessary, but I am afraid that I will not be able to keep it. Because my mental health is unpredictable. Because there is sometimes no break from depression, dissociation, panic attacks, hallucinations and delusions.

It’s scary.

And I allow myself to be afraid. I don’t chase this fear away because there are reasons for it. It's based on reality and it's silly to pretend like it’s not there. Suddenly, through the fear, I find out that I am so damn brave. Because I'm not giving up. Because I'm still here. Because I'm still alive. Because months of impenetrable darkness did not take away the most important thing from me. Somewhere inside, even on the darkest days, a fire burns. It often needs support, it needs someone to cover it from the wind, to through in firewood when Im unable to do it myself. I am lucky, I have people who know how to support this fire. It still burns.

I know now that even though I am afraid of heights to the point I can’t physically stand, I am still ready to meet face to face with something that is much worse. I know now that I am not lazy, that I have incredible willpower. Because if not for it, I wouldn't be here now.

In the summer of 2018, my friends, my husband and I hiked to Trolltunga. On the way back, my legs were hurting so much that I could barely walk. There were 4 kilometers left of the road back. I cried hysterically like a child cries. I took brakes. I whined. I screamed. And I kept on walking. I had close people nearby who did not judge me for crying and whining. Who waited until I can get up and walk again. People that walked with me.

My path to stability, to mental health is my personal road home from Trolltunga.

Through tears, screaming and whining, with jokes, hugs and breaks, I keep walking.