Tainted Moments — or “Hello Vecna my old friend”
tl;dr: Katerina speaks about her mental health, making analogies with Stranger Things. The reason she shares this is because maybe more people are having the same experiences, and it’s nice to know you’re not alone. Also, it’s good to know that people who are functional and happy and active may still suffer sometimes.
A few weeks ago I was at the after-party of a wedding. The wedding was of an old friend of mine, and the party was very enjoyable. It was held at a beautiful beach on a beautiful Greek island. There was good food, music, dancing, friends. A sort of ideal setting. I was having a lot of fun. It was late, already, and some friends were sitting on sunbeds on the beach. I went to join them, I sat on the edge of a sunbed, and sort of stopped. Negative thoughts started filling my mind, guilt, regret, for anything and for everything. It was as if the lights faded and the music stopped or was muffled, my friends disappeared and I was suddenly alone in this bad bad place. It must’ve shown on my face, because a friend who was sitting across from me shouted:
“Hey, Katerina, get out of the Upside Down”.
I jerked, lifted my stare, looked into her eyes, and smiled.
“That’s where I was”.
(thank you DALL-E for the — perfect really — imagery)
I think I speak more about my mental health as I grow older. I don’t know when I first met depression, but it was before I got PTSD. So it must not be PTSD-induced, my depression. Not strictly, at least. It started off as a panic attack. It must’ve been 2007. I lost control of my mind and was certain I was dying. It went away, then it visited me again in 2008, and 2010. The panic attack.
I think I started seeing my therapist, my first therapist, in 2009. I think it was after I told my mother about the panic attack. Or my sadness. I’m not sure which of the two.
In-between, there were moments of deep sadness and guilt, but I never paid too much attention to these. It was just the way it was. But it mainly expressed itself as a panic attack. My therapist tells me it’s the lack of a sense of security with my Self, which comes from my deep attachment to my parents, which I blame on my only-child-ness. I blame it on my inability to accept me as who I am. As not the best person in the world.
Some negative memories Vecna can grab onto
I think when I realized I’m not safe, that’s when everything started spilling out. A negative memory.
In 2006 I was chased by a young man, who was half naked, stroking his erection. I ran to escape the rape, and was hit by a car. Lightly, I just got a bruise. I ran into a shop to ask for help, and the shop-owner asked me if I’m Greek.
In 2008 it must have been, I was assaulted by a group of young men, who touched me on places that should not be touched and shouted vulgarities at me, and spat at me (literally). It was in the middle of a busy street, I was shouting for help, but nobody so much as turned their heads.
In 2011 I was strangled almost to death outside my house by a petty thief. I passed out due to lack of oxygen, and that’s when he released my neck. He must’ve thought I had died. Before dying (I call it dying because that was almost what it was) I had a vision of my mother, happily waving at me from the living-room window. The most beautiful, happy and serene face I have seen in my life. The serenity engulfed me, until I stopped being for a few moments.
Naturally, PTSD enhanced the depression. The first few months I could not walk alone. It was in 2013 that I stopped being 100% functional due to the panic attacks. I had panic attacks almost daily, and I had to go to the hospital, so that I felt I was in a safe place, where if I stopped breathing they would do something. That was the way the panic would always express itself after the 2011 event. It was the fear of not being able to breathe.
Cognitive Behavioral Therapy sort of worked, at least it made me sort of functional, to be able to make it through my Master’s and the essential social situations which I felt compelled I should attend to. But the monster was inside me. I was having a daily fight with my body. My Self. I felt my body like a prison, like this prison that’s keeping me from being carefree and happy.
Non-functionality
In 2016 was when I stopped being functional. I could not get out of the house. I could not move, I could not walk, I could not let myself feel tired. That’s when I also changed therapists. My first session with my new therapist, I barely made it there. My mother walked me. When I entered his office I started crying. He asked me what I wanted. I told him I wanted to see light at the end of the tunnel.
He helped me see light. I’m functional now. And I’m happy more than half the time. And I know to hide it when I’m not. That’s what’s killing me, right? Hiding my struggle.
What I tell my therapist, and what I tell my friends, is that depression is there. It never really leaves you. But you sort of learn to manage it. You sort of learn its tricks and you handle it in a way to not let it completely destroy your life. You live with it, and you know how to battle it when it’s getting stronger. It’s a part of what makes me, me.
The social aspect
I was watching Stranger Things the other day, the final season. In that season they sort of make it crystal clear that the monster is depression (guilt, PTSD, remorse). And I like the imagery of a whole group of people — a whole support group — fighting it. Maybe that’s the only way it can really go away. I was not lucky to have many people on my side. My parents and some friends were on my side, but a bit oblivious, or uneducated in this matter. I was surprised later to understand that my parents had given me the two main weapons against depression that I own. Writing, and walking. Unfortunately, other friends were not really supportive back then. When I confront them about it now, they tell me they did know what I was going through. I was not really open about it. I don’t blame them. You could see I had moments where I was not well, but all other moments I was playing normal. In reality, I was not myself.
I had a number of coping mechanisms, which made me act not-normal, and made me act in a peculiar way. I was making sure not to get tired. Not to drink alcohol or any other substance that may make me feel dizzy or reduce my ability to be in control. I was making sure not to run or get an elevated heart-rate so as not to mistake it with anxiety. I was making sure not to be very far away from home (a safe place) so that I could easily retreat there, should I need to have a full-blown panic attack and nobody noticing. And of course I should be able to retreat alone. So that nobody would understand I am unwell (or weak).
The problem was that part of my social circle was a little mean about it all. The thing that still puzzles me is that they could tell something was wrong, so why be mean to someone who looks unwell. I think they did not know how to handle it. So some of them gave me hell about not drinking, not staying out late, not being able to run or get tired. Hell. Again, I don’t blame them, they didn’t know, I was hiding my weakness. One of the worst things that someone had told me was “I cannot hang out with you when you are not well”. I tried to act pleasant, because I didn’t want to impose and force my “unpleasantness” onto anyone.
The lone wolf
So, as always, I was alone. And sometimes, being this lone wolf, this lone soldier, made me feel powerful. My partner never gave me hell about any of this shit, so that was nice. Then my friends started getting depressed and having panic attacks, and we could share bad experiences, finally. The thing is, in Stranger Things, there’s a whole group of people collectively fighting a collective depression. I wish that were the case. But it’s not very realistic. Since, even if you have a support group, still it’s you against yourself, in the end. It’s nice to have a “Mike” next to you, who’s usually oblivious of what’s going on deep inside, but they still want to support you, regardless. By just sort of being “there”. And nothing more. But even if you don’t have that “Mike”, there’s still a way out of the Upside Down. It just takes longer, maybe. I don’t know if it would have taken me less time with the right support group. Maybe it would not. Anyway.
Tainted moments
Moments can be tainted. By a sudden grip of a bad feeling, a sudden recollection of a bad memory, an unexpected trigger of the PTSD. Imagine a perfect moment. Laying in bed at night, next to my partner, my cats kneading my belly. Sitting on the couch, after a nice, tasty lunch, it’s summer, 40 degrees, Sunday, I have nothing to do, and I’m just relaxing. These moments, these moments in these safe places, can be darkened. The Stranger Things imagery conveys that feeling completely. Imagine Max in that scene in the Snow Ball. Everything was pretty and fun. And suddenly, she starts seeing these particles, sounds are distorted, and everything darkens. That’s what happens. That’s exactly what happens.
When I first started experiencing panic attacks, my greatest fear was the unpredictability of when they were going to hit. I don’t know if I would call them panic attacks now, even though they were panic attacks. I am trying to think of a better term, because it was panic indeed, but the trigger of the panic was not anxiety, but it was the deeply rooted depression. And the feeling of desperation that comes with depression. The feeling that all’s lost and you cannot escape. You cannot escape your skin, you cannot escape yourself, you cannot escape your body, you are infected, you are tainted. It’s going to get you. It’s there. It’s just waiting for the right moment, the moment you’re most vulnerable. Or maybe the moment you don’t believe it’s going to hit you, the moment you least expect it.
Fear as the master of all
And then fear becomes the master of all moments. Because all beautiful moments are susceptible to being tainted and destroyed, and you are susceptible to being destroyed at any moment. And during those beautiful moments is when you fear the most. Because you fear that this is when it will hurt the most for it to get you. This is when the damage will be the maximum.
And you start, slowly, to not be able to distinguish between excitement and happiness, and fear, and anxiety and pain, and panic. Any intense feeling can be all, so it’s panic, so it’s suffocation, so it’s fear, so it’s depression. Good news and bad news have the same effect on the body, the excitement fires similar neurons with anxiety. And sometimes you cannot tell which is which, so you give in to anxiety. And you’re alone.
That feeling of being alone in all this, is the most crippling feeling of all. You cannot really convey this to anyone. And if you convey this to anyone, then you feel weak. And you burn bridges or you pretend to be functional and smiling, to just cut the people out. Because you’re alone. Others don’t understand. It’s you who’s tainted by this. It’s you who’s infected. It’s got you (the Mind Flayer). Others don’t have these bad experiences that depression feeds upon. Others don’t have a panic attack to remember and fear. Or someone killing them. Or someone chasing them. You’re all alone. Because it’s you versus your mind after all. So, you feel even more isolated.
Therapy and loving my Self
At this point you think “why don’t you get therapy”. I’ve been in therapy for 13 years. Therapy is what helped me make it through, and therapy is what has helped me have a functional life. Sometimes I think that maybe I should have tried some medication, and maybe a therapist should have suggested some medication. For some reason nobody suggested medication, and for many years I was not even 100% sincere with my therapists about how bad the situation was. I was too proud. I was taught to be a “soldier”. And that’s the worst fallacy that will delay the ability to cope. The determination to remain proud and strong. And not yield. But you have to yield, you have to admit how hard it is, you have to open up.
I started being more able to cope, and started seeing light, after 7 years of therapy, and after changing therapists. And the reason why that happened was that I hit the bottom. I could not move, I could not leave my bed, I could not leave my parents house, without thinking I will die. My life was non-existent and I was just surviving. And that’s when I really started gradually admitting all of my weaknesses to my new therapist. And that’s when I started to really believe I can fight Vecna.
It was not until 2 years ago that I started admitting my worst deeds. To myself first, to my therapist afterwards. Describing all the bad things I have done in my life, and all the bad things I continue to do. Saying how I used to feel like the worst person in the world. And the most cursed, too (why me? etc). And after I started accepting all the things that make me, me (all the bad, and the good, and the not so bad, and the not so good), after that, then I started being able to share my shortcomings and my weaknesses with friends, too. And standing up for my mental health issues, and my disability to cope sometimes. And laugh about it in the end. Because I do make me laugh sometimes, with all the obstacles that I am setting up against me. All the little things that Vecna can grab onto and get hold of me.
Ariana and the savage
Last week my PTSD got retriggered really intensely. An event took place that was almost identical to my strangulation, one block away from my event. It was a bad week, with nightmares. I went to the police to check if it was the same person, because they arrested someone, it was not him. Then I heard that a past stalker of mine was asking about me. Another batch of nightmares. These people, my almost-killer, my stalkers, they almost make my life unlivable sometimes. So naturally I wish their lives to be unlivable. Or non-existent. :)
As Ariana says “been through some bad shit, I should be a sad bitch — who would have thought it’d turn me to a savage?”. I’ve been unlucky, but what the hell. I don’t want to look like I’m using my mental health as a means of getting away with anything. On the contrary, it sort of made me into a badass bitch. I say bring it on, and I know that since I’ve coped with all these things, there’s really nothing I cannot face. Really, I’ve become the lone soldier I was taught to be when I was little.
it sort of made me into a badass bitch
Vecna as my furry little friend
Vecna is there, I feel him. And I know that he will taint more of my moments. I will visit the Upside Down again. I will see the little particles, the sound will be distorted, the light will fade, again. But I am not afraid of it any more. It’s part of me, part of my life, and part of the world around me, and everyone’s world. I know that I can escape it, because I have the memory of me escaping it in the past. And I have the tools I need to escape it. But the most comforting thought is that this, Vecna, the Upside Down, the Shadow Monster, the Mind Flayer, are all part of me. And I embrace them as such.
So, yeah, I guess, bring it on! :)
