Syg. I hovedet. Hjælp mig med at hjælpe.

Jeg har en veninde. Hun hedder Cille, og hun er en af de dygtigste håndværkere jeg kender når det kommer til strik og syning. Hun ligner en der er født i det helt forkerte årti, og klæder sig altid propert og smukt på, som i gamle dage. Hun er sød, genert og ærlig. Hun er kreativ, elsker at danse og at købe lopper. Og så er hun syg. I hovedet.

“Had an anxiety attack in the hallway. Have been drugged and put to bed. I will never get used to those. So scary.” -Cille

Så da jeg forleden fik muligheden for at donere 10.000 kr til en velgørende organisation var det ikke svært for mig at vælge. Mit valg faldte på Psykiatrifonden. Fordi jeg kender Cille. Og fordi jeg ved at hun kæmper en kamp. Ikke kun mod sin sygdom, men også imod det system der burde hjælpe hende.

“I woke up, finding I was still upset. I’m going to be discharged this week. There’s not enough room here, the limit of patients is reached already. (……) There should have been an evaluation of the new medication. There should have been plans for me. There should have been a meeting about how I avoid another breakdown. I have been sad, more hopeless and cried more than I have in a long time the last two weeks. It is purely political, financial, non human considerations in this game.” -Cille (redigeret)

Cille er meget ærlig omkring sin psyke og sin sygdom. Hun har på egen krop oplevet det tabu der er i vores samfund når det kommer til psykisk sygdom, og i et forsøg på at bryde det, deler hun sin egen verden på godt og ondt via hendes instagramprofil og til dels via hendes blog. Jeg syntes hun er så sej! Det er svært at sidde på den anden side af skærmen og læse med, for det er barske løjer. Men jeg tror at det at Cille deler, viser både hende selv og andre i samme båd, at de ikke er alene. Og det er så vigtigt!

“I found myself at the bottom of depression and had an anxiety attack, last night. It was horrible. I felt a frustration. (….) I were somewhere new in my mind. I saw myself, alone in the world, everything was black and I stood at a railroad crossing. I heard the train coming. I was wide awake, it was a living nightmare. I couldn’t escape my head. I couldn’t breathe. I cried and gasped but I couldn’t speak a word. I shivered in cold sweat. I felt the death wish I thought I had dealt with. I was afraid to die. I am so frustrated with ambiguity. I felt low. I couldn’t see a reason to live. I saw a parade of people that are being bothered by me. Parents, therapists, home support, friends… I might as well free them and just die. I cried and cried, once it stopped, I spoke a few words and had a sip of water, and it started all over again. Over and over. It was a horrible night. It is horrible looking in the mirror. I am still shedding tears. I don’t know what to do now.” -Cille (redigeret)