A Bottle of Hope

Posted on by Astrid

Today, I feel stuck in the twilight zone between good and bad. I’m not feeling as hopeless as I was two weeks ago, but I can’t quite say I’m feeling happy either. I really feel numb. This seems to be the story of my life anyhow. I’ve rarely felt truly happy. Sometimes, I feel dysregulated, desperate, out of control. Some other times, I feel a glimmer of joy. That rarely lasts long. This afternoon, I experienced such a glimmer of joy when making a necklace. Then this evening, I was in a small crisis again.

Still, I have this instinct to survive, to go on. I still keep this bottle of hope that I know at some level will always be available to me. Even at times when I’m most dysregulated, I haven’t intentionally taken steps that would really end my life. I still, deep down, have this will to continue.

Now if only I could put the energy I’m putting into merely keeping hope alive, into actually practising contentment. If only I could pick up that bottle of hope from the shelf, instead of letting it sit there until I (someday, probably never) find the perfect life circumstances. Keeping hope alive is one thing, but living a life of joy and contentment, is quite a bit further up there.

This post was written for Eugi’s Weekly Prompt and Michelle’s July 1 writing prompt

Home Sweet Home

Posted on by Astrid

This week, Eugi’s weekly prompt is “Home sweet home”. I’ve never participated in this prompt before, but I thought I’d now.

Two weeks from now, I’ll be living in the care facility one year. It feels closer to home than any of the homes and facilities I’ve lived in before did. That feels weird. My parents’ house felt like home, but that’s just because I knew nothing else. My parents felt as safe as possible, but again that was because I knew nothing else.

Then I went into the training home. That was temporary, as you were supposed to live there for at most two years while training for independent living. That’s what I did eighteen months later. I cried my eyes out the first day, in front of my mother, who got angry with me.

It felt horrible to know that this was it forever. I mean, for at least the duration of my university studies, so four years, I’d live there. Then I’d live in a rented house on my own. It completely overwhelmed me.

As regular readers know, it didn’t last. Three months in, I landed in a mental crisis and was hospitalized. Though I stayed in the psych hospital for 9 1/2 years total and for over four years on one ward, it never felt like home. I knew it was temporary, after all.

And then I got kicked out. I lived with my husband in our rented house in the tiny village for 2 1/2 years. Even though I got by okay, it never felt good.

And now I’m here. I got that overwhelming feeling that this is it forever in the first weeks too, but this time, it was good.

I struggle to believe that this is not yet another temporary living arrangement or one in which I cannot cope. I act in and out a lot, probably to somehow “prove” that I’m not suited to this home. That I’m not suited to any home in the world. That there is no home sweet home for me.

Yet my staff so far say that I can stay here for the rest of my life. That, too, feels kind of overwhelming, but like I said, in a good way.

I also of course have my and my husband’s home in Lobith. That one still feels a bit odd to me. I never really lived in it, since we bought it two days after I moved into the care facility. In fact, I struggle to consider it my house too. When I write about it, I often write that it’s my husband’s house, then correct myself and add “and my”. I want to keep a connection to that house too, but it doesn’t feel like home.