part I english translation from previous blog

My best girlfriends left me and then began the gossiping of my return from the psychiatric ward. Now I was the coined depressed girl and I knew that my relationships were only becoming superficial. I still have a psychological illness. Am I depressive, manic, schizophrenic, anxious? For every doctor, I was something else. And how did my family feel. Every week we had to drive to another town to see a psychiatrist. My father is also a doctor and in my mind, I felt he had inhibitions for people to know that I had bipolar disorder. Maybe he was depressed or it was possible that he was ashamed of me.

There are many questions that have no right answers. Therefore I was scared to state any questions. I was idealistic and one could say that my family could not handle me because the social worker wanted a foster home for me. I know that I cannot always control my thoughts but the idea of having a new family made me feel more confused.

I remember when I found an answer to understand my depression. I looked back on my memories of my older brother who had already gone off to the university. My soul was becoming weaker and I needed my brother. Naturally life goes on, but I tried to hide my own identity for two years. I refused to take my medications, thinking I was normal. These were the wrong thoughts and actions that lead me to the Psychiatric ward again.

Often I felt I was in jail when I was in the psychiatric ward. I could not sing or dance because to the doctors and nurses on staff, it was an annoyance. That is only a small, unimportant statement because moments like these don’t matter in the big picture. I only mean to say that when one lives, it is enough. Situations could be worse but my opinion is that I am lucky these deeper feelings to experience. Every second when I am not in harmony with the world, I find newfound strength in my soul.