Sylvilel

  ©Sylvilel Heisann. Ei stund siden sist, ja? Det har skjedd mye i livet mitt de siste årene. Jeg har flytta ( 1 000 000 ganger). Bytta jobb. Knekt arma. Fiksa arma. Fått meg hund. Mista katta. Tatt opp hundekjøring igjen. Skrevet litt. Skrevet litt mindre. Håpt at jeg så smått skulle begynne å bli voksen (feira 31 forleden). Erkjent at jeg kanskje aldri kommer til å bli voksen. Ja. Livet har vært turbulent for ei som aldri har hatt  et liv før. Det er mange tanker som har hopa seg opp over lang tid. Mange følelser. Mange traumer og gammel bagasje. Mye som nå vil ut på én gang. Her i sommer innså jeg at jeg kom til å trenge samtaleterapi igjen. Så jeg tok kontakt med en privatklinikk i høst, og går nå til to flinke terapeuter som virkelig brenner for faget sitt. Det er jeg fornøyd med. Det som kanskje er det vanskeligste nå, er at jeg ikke har hatt kontakt med meg sjøl på veldig lenge. Jeg var på vei inn i en god stim i vår, men så - La mye press på meg sjøl i jobben foran som...

©️Sylvilel It's been a long time since I felt as run-down as I do now, so it's actually a little hard to admit that I'm not doing so well at the moment. But I choose to view it as a symptom of a forward-moving process. Considering all the mental changes I've been through over a very short period, it would be ridiculous to think that my body woulnd't eventually catch up with the mental exhaustion. So now it's evidently time to take a step back and let things run their course for while; let all the hard work process, and see what becomes of it. Since I'm not at all a perfectionist/idealist (read: sarcasm), it's difficult to let go. I am really  bad at letting go. But some wise idiot apparently said that you should fake it 'til you make it. Also, in nine days time I'm having another surgery on the arm that I broke last August, which isn't exactly mood-lifting. But that too is part of a growing-process (pun intended), and I'...

Sylvilel As I fly Between light and stars, The vastness in my heart; Home.

©️Sylvilel «Ada has lead around her ankles. That’s how it feels when she drags herself through the days. Had she only known where she was headed, where she wanted to go. Then she finds the book about Djevelhogget. A hard trip, both mentally and physically, lies ahead of her.» A few months back, I recieved a request from author Tuva Tovslid about doing a reader review of her debut novel, "Djevelhogget," which I (the little attention-addict that I am) of course said yes to. Now. It needs to be said that I am often and almost always very sceptical about reading Norwegian debuts, for reasons I won't go into right now (we don't have all night.) But: The last time I remember falling in love with a book after page two, was at the age of twelve, when I opened "Harry Potter And The Philosopher's Stone" for the first time. Wich in itself is a kind of magic that is hard to find, in my opinion. That is what happened with "Djevelhogget...

©️Sylvilel Sometimes I wonder if she ever really had any faith at all. Or if she just clung to what she professed to be her faith, because she wanted so badly for something to believe in. I think it’s a default in all of us, to need something to anchor ourselves with; be it religion or people, a job, a cause. It all comes back to the clawing need to believe in something outside ourselves. * She sat in her huge, moss green plush chair, eyes glassy and distant. Her pale old-person-skin looked almost smooth under the rays of the afternoon sun. A faint reek of soap, urin and dust filled the room. I watched her chest rise and fall every three seconds, slow and rasping. She could have been sleeping. She could have been dead. But no; she was ever so much alive just yet. We sat in silence; me listening to the waning rythm of her life; she staring blankly into nothing. It was a comforting silence, and a sad one. «I’m going soon,» she said. «You know that.» Her voice sounded...

©️Sylvilel I sometimes wish I had the guts to pack my things and travel the world. It's such a futile thing to say, because there really is nothing stopping me, not even insecurity anymore. I'm just - I don't know. Not afraid. Not nervous. Lazy? Maybe. I don't know what to call it. Anxious? Maybe that's a better word. Not bad anxious. Maybe I'm afraid that it won't be all I want it to be. If all goes to plan, I might be travelling to Copenhagen this Christmas. With a friend, visitng another friend. For some reason, doing something completely  different for Christmas this year appeals a great deal to me. Someting has happened to the family this year. Both my mum and dad's. Not just this year, specifically, it's been a long way coming. But I feel it more now than I used to. I want  to believe it's because I've  changed. And it probably is. But there's been a few major turning points somewhere along this particular year too....

©️Sylvilel For those of you who don’t know, once upon a time I spent the better part of ten years dealing with depression. In the last three years of that depression I also dealt with anxiety, paranoia, and panic attacks. Long story short, I had problems taking care of myself in a satisfying way, and I drove everyone away from me. This December it will be two years since I was released from therapy. It’s been a good and productive two years, and I feel like I’m finally looking at an endgame where I get my shit together. I’m doing the stuff I like, and making choices based on what’s best for ME rather than for others. This March I had a bit of a setback, to the point where I considered going back into therapy. But as my therapist always told me: “You’ve got the tools, and you know how to use them.” So I decided to try another strategy first, one that pretty much worked for me since I was a kid: Namely writing. The journal you see in the photo has been my therapeuti...

Det går trått med skrivinga for tida. Ideene er der, men inspirasjonen har ferie. Og siden sjøldisiplin ikke er min sterkeste side blir det heller ikke noe rutinemessig jobbing der det burde vært det. MEN: Jeg har fått meg TO nye forfattervenner! Aina Olsen Midtun og Martine Strømsnes, som begge er supertrivelige og drifitge damer med mye interessant på hjertet. Også har jeg vært på eventyr borte hos søta bror og kjørt snøskuter i nydelig vinterlandskap. For ikke å snakke om de ukentlige turene med hundespann her hjemme. Lotta sover gjerne på bordet. Mammaen på fisketur. Søstra gjør ALT for en god kameravinkel. Fantastiske isskulpturer langs Torneträsk. Også selvfølgelig lekt litt i skogen: Jeg fikk anbefalt "The Trees" av ei på Norli (vår lokale Norli ligger rett vegg i vegg med min egen arbeidsplass, fysj og fysj), og har brukt cirka ni måneder på å plukke den opp. Jeg ante ikke hva jeg forventa, men ...

Foto: ©Sylvilel Mens jeg egentlig burde pakke, skriver jeg. Hva ellers skulle inspirere meg til blogging enn prokrastinasjon? Jeg depper litt, så kanskje det. Deppa har alltid vært lik inspirasjon. Ingen store eksistensielle spørsmål idag. Bare litt utbrenthet og lavt blodsukker. For mye kaffe. For lite inspirasjon. Bakpå. I limbo. Jeg går på vent. På vent med flyttinga. På vent med pakkinga. På vent med noe som sitter inni hodet mitt og hamrer for å komme ut, men jeg hører det så langt borte at jeg glemmer det. Jeg er tilbake nå, men ikke helt. Fortsatt bakpå. Fortsatt i limbo. Inspirert men uinspirert. Noe mangler. Ett eller annet vitalt, som batteri i fjernkontrollen. Ikke kaffe, for jeg skjelver snart. Foto: ©Sylvilel Jeg har pakka bøker. Fire fulle esker, og enda er jeg ikke halvferdig. Snart skal jeg ut herfra. Tilbake ut i verden etter fire år i dvale. Ny by, ny leilighet, ny roomie. Fem minutter til jobb i stedet for førtifem. Gangavstand til butikken. ...