Der 12. Mann schwächelt?!

Oder aber auch: die Erfolgsfans verpissen sich endlich langsam wieder. Was auch Zeit wurde.

Wieso ich das so betitele, so harsch? Da gibt es einen guten Grund – beziehungsweise zwei Gründe, denn es gab in der letzten nahen Vergangenheit zwei E-Mails, die fröhlich in mein E-Mail-fach flatterten. So ganz unverblühmt sprachen sie von Rückläufern. Rückläufern von Tickets – und zwar nicht irgendwelchen gegen Hintertupfingen. Nein. Es war die Sprache von Tickets für das Heimspiel gegen Arsenal London und für das Auswärtsspiel gegen Belgrad.

Die Tickets. Ja doch, es gab einen freien Verkauf. Erinnert ihr euch noch an all den Neid, die Missgunst, den Konkurrenzkampf, als die Verlosungen angefangen haben? Und jetzt? Jetzt bekommt man sie hinterhergeworfen. Keine Sorge, die gehen weg wie warme Semmeln, die bleiben nicht liegen – aber das ist auch gerade gar nicht der Punkt.

Wo sind sie den jetzt alle, die, die so gegeiert haben und die dann ihre Tickets nicht abgeholt haben? Keine Lust mehr? Nur wieso? Klar, die Tabelle in der Liga sagt nichts gutes, aber – schon mal gesehen, wie der Scheiß in der Liga zustande kam? Und nein, ich sage hier jetzt nicht, dass es immer die Schiris schuld waren – aber sowas verunsichert das Team, auch wenn ich der Meinung bin, dass der Verein die Mittel haben sollte, ein Team so zu “behandeln”, dass es durch Fehlentscheidungen nicht aus der Bahn geworfen wird – egal wie häufig die sind.

Ja, langsam wird aussortiert – das Spreu vom Weizen, also die ekligen Erfolgsfans, die aus ihren Löchern gekrochen sind, als es gut lief, als das internationale Spielen da war – ja, all die, die verschwinden langsam wieder in ihren dummen Löchern. Am Ende bleiben eh nur die, die es schon in der zweiten Liga waren, als wir nach Aue, Fürth oder weiß Gott wohin fuhren, wo wir stundenlang ohne Dach über dem Kopf bei Eisregen-Hagel-Schnee dastanden und unterstützt haben.

Aber hey ihr Erfolgsfans, kündigt eure Mitgliedschaften und bitte: kommt nie wieder. Ihr nehmt treuen Fans den Platz im Stadion weg, ihr nehmt den Fans die Tickets weg die denen zustehen, die sich den Arsch aufgerissen haben und jetzt dank Euch entweder auf den letzten Drücker versucht haben ein Ticket für Arsenal zu bekommen. Oder komplett leer ausgegangen sind.

Aber bitte – falls wir es eine Runde weiter schaffen sollten, international – kommt nicht wieder, bleibt weg. Der Verein verdient richtige Fans – nicht euch. Ihr schwächelt, nicht wir. Der 12. Mann ist gleich stark geblieben, egal wie sehr ihr Erfolgsfans meint, die richtigen Fans “infiltrieren” zu müssen.

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Votet für die Songs die ihr auf Setliste haben wollt!


…oder aber auch “stimmt halt für die ab, die ihr seit Jahren eh schon bei mindest jedem zweiten Konzert sowie gesehen habt und sehen könnt”.

Ja, ich gebe es gleich zu Beginn zu: ich bin in Lästerlaune, ich will mich aufregen. Weil es mich nervt, anpisst, anätzt.

Man nehme an, eine Band feiere nächstes Jahr ihr 15-Jahre-Bandjubiläum und habe die geniale Idee, bei einem von zwei Konzerten dafür die Fans bestimmen zu lassen, was sie spielen würden. Das würde dann auch nur gehen, wenn man für den Tag ein Ticket hat und man dürfe für genau drei Lieder abstimmen.

Okay, ich nehme das würde, könnte, habe mal raus – das ist so. Und zwar bei Versengold. Ich hatte mich tierisch gefreut, Jubiläumsshows, was ganz besonderes, ich dabei und ich konnte mitbestimmen, was gespielt werden soll. Denn jeder der dafür ein Ticket hat, darf abstimmen. Aus allen Songs der Bands. Von ganz alt bis ganz neu, alles dabei, alles zur Auswahl.

Ich mich dann also direkt auf Songs gestürzt, die ich noch nie live gehört hatte – dass meine zwei Instrumentalstücke nicht gerade das Rennen machen würden, war mir schon im Vorhinein klar. Und das wird weder eine Überraschung noch sonst was sein, dass die beiden Songs nicht dabei sein werden – auch wenn´s halt schon geil gewesen wäre.

Aber mal ehrlich…ein Blick auf das Abstimmungsergebnis, oder den Zwischenstand, der bis jetzt so abgestimmt wurde – ja ich muss sagen, ich wollte den Kopf auf die Tischplatte hauen. Mehrfach. Ganz feste. Und noch fester. Die Hälfte der Songs, die zum aktuellen Stand auf der Setliste wären, sind Songs, die man auf mindestens jedem zweiten Konzert hat sehen können und wird wohl sehen können auch in der Zukunft. Und trotzdem sind genau diese Songs dabei – en masse. Weit vorne. Wieso wollen die Leute nicht mal was hören, was sie noch nie gesehen haben live? Was die Band seit Jahren nicht mehr gespielt hat?

Wieso will man dann das ausgelutschte Liedgut, wieso will man dann das, was sie eh am zweiten Tag spielen würden weil es die “Hits” sind? Oder eben beim nächsten Konzert mindestens im Medley…es ist einfach so fad. Ja es sind gute Songs, aber nein – die Show sollte für das Besondere stehen und nicht für das, was man immer haben könnte.

Und ich bin jetzt mal ganz ehrlich – wenn sich das Abstimmungsergebnis nicht wirklich verbessert, werde ich es ernsthaft in Betracht ziehen, mein Ticket zu verkaufen. Weil zwei Tage hintereinander auf Shows in der Großen Freiheit 36 zu gehen ist schon so Extremsport.

Und wenn es dann eine Setliste sein wird, die nichts Besonderes hat, mache ich das wirklich nicht mit. Ja ja ich bin ein schlechter Fan, ich weiß – aber ich habe gelernt Prioritäten zu setzen, und das wäre dann definitiv keine. Aber wer weiß, was bis dahin noch so passiert – ich habe ja irgendwie immer noch die Hoffnung auf ein Wunder, weil es noch so lange hin ist. Aber wirklich dran glauben tue ich halt wirklich nicht…einfach nur bitter, wie diese Abstimmung die Vorfreude auf das Konzert gerade vollends ausradiert hat…

Me vs university


Lately I´ve been asked pretty often if it was great for me to be learning again, now that I was studying for my master´s degree that I just started end of August. So now it´s been 1,5 months and people seemingly expect me to be all excited and all over the place with happiness.

Well, reality looks different – as I have to face certain things and issues that somehow I didn´t quite saw coming or happily ignored whilst deciding that I want to study again,  applying for the studies and starting my studies. It all seemed so easy  – I mean, I work fulltime, sure, but I have plenty of freetime. I thought.

I forgot about the fact that after 8 hours of work, occasionally needing to do grocery shopping and once being home and having eaten, motivation is something that I could rather buy in the stores than find it with me, and inside my head.

I love learning, no doubt – but not at 8pm and later on during the week, with time pressure of knowing that I cannot take too long for assignments as I need to be in the office the next morning again. It kills the fun, it kills the interest in long texts that actually are exciting to read and about topics that I enjoy reading about – if I have the time and capacity to actually be properly reading instead of skimming through the pages as quick as possible with just an eyes for what information you gotta grasp in order to fulfill the tasks. It´s not about learning as the big picture. You, or well, at Least I, learn how to efficiently run through texts and get the minimum out of there in order to somehow pass the tasks. Not less, not a tiniest bit more.

Also because I don´t have the power for it – I am simply mentally exhausted when I leave the office and only physical stuff like working out (where I don´t need my head that much) actually is an option. So once I sit on the couch, it´s kinda over. Or if I find something that qualifies as nice thing to do in order to not do any studing (my kitchen is so clean, it´s fascinating already).

What I also somehow ignored beforehand…how much effort it needs, how many tasks there are and what the extend of those assignements cover. It´s at least twice as much as I had expected, so I am not getting along with my “max. 2-3 hours once a week on a Monday” in order to get things done. Either I am terribly slow or things are complex – okay, I have to say that I try to get things done as early as possible already now that I have little courses, simply because I need to also do that when I will have more than this now as courses during the next semester. And I don´t even wanna think about next semester with even more courses.

Because – as I mentioned, I still have my sports and the training for my half marathon and all my mud obstacles runs next year and I really need it because it´s the best thing to clear the mind after a stressful day at work – and cutting this down is no option. And I have my relatio nship that of course wants to be nurtured and taken care of, and I need time to myself for doing…nothing. Oh and I also have a sewing machine that is catching dust aready, just as my 15 unread books are also catching more and more dust. I really don´t know how to handle everything and put everything into one week as I do not have someone taking care of my house chores and grocery shopping in oder to save time.

Do I sound desperate? If not – man I am an amazing actress. If I do – it´s how I am at the moment. Like, desperate. Already now, after 2 weeks of 3 years of studies ahead. With working 40h a week. I have no idea how this all is supposed to be from success in the end without me burning out. And I am jealous of those people, who easily manage 40h a week of work, studies and hobbies without feeling like a hamster permanently running in a wheel that´s only supposed for sprinting.

Goodbye WeightWatchers

So as you know, WeightWatchers has been part of my life for now more than 2 years and it´s been the right start into my weightloss journey. I´ve been going through many ups and more downs lately, and there has been successes, no doubts.

At the start it went well, once I got to track everything I ate – and I enjoyed the fact I was able to eat veggies and fruits as much as I wanted to. My weight dropped, dropped, dropped and dropped even more – and I was only 6kg away from my goal weight.

And then something happened and until this day, I dunnot know what actually happened. I started working out more, being even more active, and was still tracking all my food. but instead of the weight going down still, it started going up since summer again. And I am clueless why, it feels like WeightWatchers is not really going anywhere anymore, so lately I´ve been really doubtful and wondering what to do.

It´s not like I am gonna give in, no. I just needed a change – and I decided to kill my abo for WeightWatchers and switched to Yazio, another app – but for counting calories. It´s making even more work for me, because now I also need to track every veggie I am eating in detail which I didn´t have to do with WeightWatchers, hut maybe that is why it all didn´t work out in the end anymore. I again have 10+kg to lose to reach my goal weight, and according to Yazio it takes me around 26 weeks if I keep my calories…I don´t believe in it, but I wish it was true ^^

Once I am more using Yazio for a bit longer, I´ll give you a little report on how it´s going and how the functions are like and everyhing. One thing is for sure, I´ll be spending less on Yazio than I did on WeightWatchers (online version only, no meetings).

Fly or drown

Whilst I am sitting here in bed with a cold/flu/whatever-the-hell it is, and when not feeling all worn out, I have a lot of time to reflect on things.

And one of those things is one question that people kept asking me after the incident on Mud Master´s “Flyer” obstacle last weekend. It´s the question of “why did you even do it if you were so afraid”. And that question is not even that easy to answer, because I feel like there is not THE answer. But I´ll try to explain.

So two years ago I was at City Slide in Hamburg, a massive slide where you had to run on a plastic surface and then jump onto your blow-up ring and slide down this big slide. I managed to step onto uneven ground, slipped and fell onto neck, shoulder and head. And was rushed to hospital with maybe a slipped disk in my neck. In the end it was no slipped desk, just massive bruises and such, but I spent days at the hospital on strong medication and suffered (and sometimes still do) from neck stiffness and such bullshit for a long time.

I told myself, I will never go onto a water slide or similar – and that was me, the person who from young age on had probably no bigge rlove than water slides. Back in the days, I spent hours in water arks, queuing for slides – no matter how wild, steep and crazy. And there I was, I needed more than a year to actually dare to walk up the stairs up to a water slide again. Even just walking those stairs, those few stairs, was massive. And no, I did not slide down the first time I went up there. But I am someone who likes to get going, who likes to face struggles because I really wanted to get back to “me” – the person who loved slides.

And after the first time I was on a water slide, I was scared. All those seconds, all the way down to the water. But I did it again and again and slowly the fun was coming back – in baby steps, smaller not possible. But I started feeling more confident all the time. Maybe because it was those closed slides, all round, no chance of much happening. Children slides.

And then I signed up for the Mud Masters run and to be fair, I noticed too late, that there was the “Flyer”- the damned slide. And from the first moment on, something in my head told me, that it´s no good idea. The surface reminded me on the one at City Slide, with just soft boundaries, that whole feel…but I decided I will manage. Maybe because I really hoped I would.

But after the start of the run, with every step I did, I knew I was coming one step close to this obstacle, and something in me was screaming “no”. And maybe I should have better listened, but I wanted to prove myself that I can manage, that I am over it. Then I was walking up these massive stairs up – 10m high. And my body was not quite sure what to think about it, my heartrate went up – hello, height. Hello fear. So I was standing there on top, aside. And somehow I knew I was going to do something stupid by sliding down. My head was blank, my feelings did not talk to me anymore. For literally the first time ever in my life. I don´t know what I felt, it was all empty – and I just looked at those people slide down, being excited. And then there was this thought: why can´t it also not make me excited, in a positive way?

And then I did what I should have not been doing – some folks walking by kinda dragged me along (no offense, it´s not their fault) and all of a sudden I was sat there. 10m down. Water. My thoughts going crazy, flashbacks to my time in the ambulance back then. And then I was like: I wanna get up, and walk downstairs.

And instead of listening to my body, my ego was like “okay, you can do that, so don´t be a pussy, and just do it, you will not re-” – and there I was sliding thinking “fuck I do regret it”, having my eyes closed, with the oddest thoughts ever during those very few seconds. And already during sliding I knew, I did a mistake. I knew that I had overestimated my progress of overcoming this fear of water slides. I really had believed I could do this, and my mind was so focusses on this “I will do this”, that the body signals were just ignored – I don´t know how that is even possible when looking back, but when ego, will and wanting to be a tough girl all come together, this is the outcome.

I had that hope that it all would just work out – that I would walk out of the water and be like “fuck yes, I did it” – I would have been scared but stronger because I noticed I could´ve done it. And instead I hit the water, and all I saw was whiteness whilst my head was under the water and the rest – I crawled out of the water, with panic wide eyes and I was done. My heart racing. And the worst thing about this situation was: I made it, but I felt worse than before, my thoughts were all full of fear instead of relief. It has thrown me back to the start, and even further back off because this experience has left mental scars again – on top of the old ones.

So yeah, maybe it explains why I did go down that slide…maybe it doesn´t, maybe I just needed to talk about it – feel free to decide yourself!

1. FC Köln international – Wenn Fans zu Konkurrenten werden

Ich kann mich daran erinnern, wie ich als kleines Kind zum Fußball und zum FC Köln gekommen bin. Das war vor mehr als 20 Jahren, und ich habe viele Jahre lang Abstiege beweint, und Aufstiege gefeiert, als wären sie der Gewinn einer Meisterschaft. Ich war Heimspiel-Dauerkartenbesitzer, bin mit meiner Mutter auswärts gefahren – im Auto, im Fanbus zwischen meist betrunkenen (aber listigen) anderen Fans. Erzgebirge Aue, Fürth, kleinere und kleinere Stadien – immer mit dabei, mit Leidenschaft. Und einem Traum: einmal nicht um den Abstieg kämpfen, einmal vorne mit dabei sein.

Ich habe den Platz gestürmt bei Aufstiegen, habe Gras vom Stadion mit einem verdammten Schlüssel ausgegraben und zuhause liebevoll angepflanzt. Habe mir die Seele aus dem Leib gesungen, mir Erkältungen und Grippen eingefangen wenn ich mal wieder wo stand, wo es kein Dach gab und es regnete, hagelte, schneite – oder alles abwechselnd. Und so standen WIR zusammen – wir feierten zusammen, wir weinten zusammen. Es gab ein “wir”. Weil man durch diese ganze Scheiße zusammen gegangen war – wir, die Fans. Eine große Familie, die mit stolzgeschwellter Brust überall “einmarschiert” ist, wo wir gespielt haben. Wir waren eins.

Und dann kamen die News dieses Jahr: wir spielen international. Der 1. FC Köln spielt nach so verdammt langer Zeit endlich wieder international. Viele der Fans, wie ich, haben sowas in ihrer “Fan-Laufbahn” nie zuvor erlebt, kennen nur Geschichten und Videos. Wie wenn man über Kriege spricht, wo es Augenzeugenberichte gibt. So hat es sich immer angefühlt, und dann war der Moment auf einmal da. Surreal, es konnte nicht sein. Ein Traum, der wahr wurde – das dachte ich mir, naiv wie ich war. Ich freute mich auf eine wahnsinnig geile Zeit, auf ein Fan-Gefühl, stärker als je zuvor, purer Wahnsinn eben – im positivsten Sinne möglich.

Wahnsinn wurde es auch – wir haben noch kein Spiel gespielt, und ich muss sagen, ich hatte Momente, wo ich mir gewünscht habe, dass es nie soweit gekommen wäre, das mit dem international Spielen. Das Fanprojekt kündigte an, dass man sich anmelden müsse, wenn man ein Auswärts- oder Heimspielticket haben wolle – und dass man dann in den Lostopf käme. Man musste also sein Glück in die Hände von der Technik legen, und das stieß schon einigen vor der Auslosung richtig auf.

Ich habe – vornweg – Glück gehabt, wie ich heute erfahren habe. Ich bin “zuhause” dabei. Aber selbst wenn ich es nicht wäre: ich kann nicht verstehen, wie man sich so aufführen kann, wie es viele zur Zeit tun. “Ich bin besser als du”, “Ich bin länger dabei, bin mehr km gefahren, bin…” – jeder will sich beweisen, seinen Mann stehen. Und aufzeigen, wieso es doch so ungerecht ist, dass man kein Ticket abbekommen hat.  Wieso sollte man sich also für andere freuen, wenn man Neid zeigen kann? Klar, es ist frustrierend – ich war auch wütend und frustriert als ich erfahren habe, dass es nichts mit nach London fliegen wird für das Spiel gegen Arsenal. Aber habe ich gesagt, dass ich es eher verdient hätte als jemand anderes? Nein.

Und all dieses “macht es doch wie bei anderen Spielen – wer zuerst online ist und ein Ticket bestellt, hat Glück” – ja Leute, so einen Server muss das Fanprojekt erst mal hinter den Shop schalten, und wer würde als erstes laut schreien, wenn das nicht hinhaut? genau, die die immer was zu motzen haben weil es ja unfair wäre, wenn der Server gerade dann abrauscht und sie kein Ticket bekommen hätten.

Leute Leute Leute, seht es sportlich. Schaut auf FB etc etc ob jemand zu einem fairen Preis was verkauft – aber hört auf, es allen anderen mies zu machen. Weil wir es ja nicht verdient hätten, ein Ticket zu haben. Geht gar nicht.

Ich war scheiße naiv als ich alles rosa-rot gesehen habe. Nichts mit einer großen Familie. Am Ende ist sich halt doch jeder selbst am nähsten.

Noch einmal werde ich das nicht mitmachen, das verdirbt einem jeglichen Spaß. Aber hey, vllt. isses ja eh erst wieder in 20+ Jahren der Fall, wer weiß das schon…

2 weeks without…

…Facebook. Well, nearly, as I split it into 2 phases.

It´s funny how most of you will pobably be all “omg did she really do this, how is this even possible” because yes, I have been spending a lot of time on there – mostly I didn´t even notice that I was on Facebook whilst eating or doing something else, it´s just always been present. No matter if it was for simply reading other people´s news, for posting my photos and news or maintaining my own Facebook page for all of my photogaphy.

And after I had finished off all of my Faey photos from the medieval market, I noticed I needed some time – time to myself, quality time and off the computer, away from it, away from my mobile phone. Simply because I had experienced how great that can be when I had forgotten my phone at home before going to the medieval market and thus was forced to actually survive without a phone for a full day.

And I, to be honest, thought it´s gonna be easy. I mean, I had no problems during this one day, so now being home, why should it be any different? Well, it  was different. At least during the time when I still had no work and was not that much distracted and occupied as I had been at the medieval market.

I uninstalled the Facebook and Messenger app on my phone, logged off on the browser version and already after a few hours had the first people asking me if everything was alright – yes sure, I just need a break. It´s not like I am dying or something when I leave Facebook. I just wonder what is going with my friends, if I have new likes on my photo page, if I have any (important?) messages waiting for me (it´s funny how people kept answering to messages in which I told them that they can only reach me on WhatsApp, e-mail and Instagram for 2 weeks), if there is tour news or any other news that I don´t see because of simply not being on there.

It´s an odd feeling. It´s like the world keeps turning but without you as you remain standing still, blindfolded. It´s not like I am super into daily politics and all this crap and negative bullshit, but I am interested in what my friends do, feel, experience, are angry about. Maybe more than they are into mine, as for quite a while noone really (as it felt) gave a flying fck. Hardly any likes or comments or any sort of reactions onto my posts, making me wonder why I am atually then sharing my life at all. Being fed up with the hunt for likes, comments and attention on there, leaving was agood step I guess.

Yet during the first days it left a hole – oh, that´s great, let´s share it on Facebook – no wait, no app. Maybe there is some informat – nope, not logged in xD It´s been funny yet really annoying (and scary) at the same time in how many situations and how much I used to turn to Facebook during a normal and average day. Being “generation social media” it´s hard to say what´s normal and what´s excessive or even ending in addiction – you just seemingly have to be on there to be part of the deal, otherwise you´re left out. Not that I personally would bother or even really feel like this, but that´s just how it rolls.

Week 1 was fully without Facebook – week two I accessed it via desktop computer but not on my phone still, to not get sucked up into this whole madness again- and still no posting at all, and I really struggled to keep up with not posting once I was back on…but I made it…

For me overall it´s been a relief to be off there for a while, to be able to focus on something else (okay, being on Instagram still made me share snapshots but didn´t waste as much time as Facebook usually does), to focus on myself with my problems, my worries, my doubts, my battles, my eating and my sports instead of pushing myself aside by focussing on literally anything but not myself.

But at the same time – I am happy to be back, yet I will enjoy it more…carefully, and less often and intensively…life´s offering too many great things besides the internet 😉

Music and live shows – drug or cure?

It´s 11pm and it´s weird that I am actually sitting here and typing these lines, as I am actually looking for posisble flights from Hamburg to Tallinn to maybe see Apocalyptica play a show there. It would be my 4th show this year of the guys – Hamburg, London, Deichbrand – and maybe Tallinn.

And oddly enough and probably one of the first times during all the past 12 years that I am actively following these guys, I wonder if it´s too much. If I am investing too much – too much time, money, passion, love, emotions. I wonder why seemingly three great shows are not enough for me anymore, why I seemingly always find THE reason why to attend a show.

In Hamburg I went there because it was in Hamburg and I didn´t want to miss out on the anniversary tour, I thought it would be hilarious to miss out on it even though I was not too fond of just hearing Metallica songs. And because I needed the contact, because I needed the music and I needed this time of inner peace during a time where I felt it was hard to find this peace.

In London I was because I wanted to treat myself for having passed my exams for my course, to be able to forget the hassle of the past months and to forget all the application writing that had been awaiting me. When I went to With Full Force festival, where it didn´t come to a show, I went there because my mind was storming, I felt like a loser and could have hardly been more depressed even though I didn´t show it. The storming continued and got worse, and I decided last second to go to Deichbrand festival – because I needed this inner stress to end, because I needed a break from daily life with all its struggles.

Now I know I have a job and will be working, and I tell myself the trip to Tallinn in november would be to “treat myself” whilst I somehow got the feeling it´s more of another time of fleeing from reality because I am scared of what my new job might bring. I claim it´s because Antero Manninen will most likely not be with the band after the tour again, that they might record a new album in 2018 and might not tour and a zillion of other hilarious reasons. I´ve survived this all not just once – Antero had left back in the days, and the guys recorded several new albums during the past years. I am still alive, no doubt. Any damage? Not sure. Hard to judge.

Drug? Addiction?
What kinda makes me think is that everyone is talking about addictions, things they do to “forget the world around them” and over all these years and for many reasons, I´ve been reading a lot about the reasons and signs of different kinds of addictions – internet, phone, TV, alcohol, drugs and and and.
But has anyone ever seriously been considering how music and also live concerts can be a drug (not including this one case that mad eits way into media)? You might not exactly be able to overdose and die, it might not bring you in hospital (unless you drop and fall n a moshpit and get stamped on) and it doesn´t kill necessary organs (if you´re deaf, you can still live, right?). That´s what the “real addictions” as many call them, do. And that´s why internet and TV and phone additions are often just laughed about still, even though it´ more and more getting “popular” and getting more attention.

So, why not music? Not live concerts? When I listen to my fave music, and if I am at a live show, I feel like the world could end tomorrow and I´d die with a smile, because I had a nice time right before. I have no problems, current problems and what the future might bring are irrelevant. It´s just me, right this moment, with this music and this band and nothing else counts. Literally. It´s like getting onto a trip, being high and at some point you fall and crash when everything is back to “normal” – when real life hits, when the show is over, when you have no idea when you get the next “dose” of what makes you feel so light and fearless. This is what we funniley enough call “post concert depression” or similar, it´s nothing uncommon, especially when you had a great time at a show. It´s that circle of: you feel bad, go to the show and feel amazing, feel even crappier than before, want more, spend more money on it, have more problems – and it repeats and repeats and repeats.

That´s the one side of it, let´s call it the “vicious” side of it.

Cure?
But there is the “cure” side of it – I´ve been struggling with depressions, bad and light, since my teenage years and music has been – how I always felt (if that´s right or not, let´s simply not discuss this here) – the only stable thing and the only thing that I could invest my trust into. No, music is no person, yet it´s always there when you need it. Cds, vinyls, music Dvds, YouTube – you name it. I found myself in lyrics, found my pain, my struggles, my fears, my doubts, my anxieties – I had someone naming them by their bloody name, I had someone seemingly able to relate, knowing how it feels. No matter if it´s been Apocalyptica or any other band that I listen(ed) to. It felt good to be understood somehow, to know someone else was also struggling and fighting against the seemingly same demons as I myself.  It´s a sick attraction that builds up, you feel close to whoever writes these lyrics, sings them, gives them a voice, a tone, a “face”.

I always felt save with music, and also at shows – they are my safe haven, I know I have people around me who just love the music as much as I do, who relate to the music, who might even be in a similar position than me – who knows. I´ve met amazing people thanks to music and live shows, and I wouldn´t want to miss this at all. Because it´s a kind of family – not only the concert venue is like a “home”, but the fans seem like a big bounch of mates, and at times the band feels close, too – especially if they saw you grow up (e.g. I was just 15 years old when I first met Apocalyptica – now I am turning 28).

Music, the music I love, that I have a connection to, is the best medicine for me that doesn´t in return numb me down – it makes me bloody emotional to a point I might break down in tears, but it´s a relief because that then had to come out, it´s released and done and over with it. I always felt better. And all the music in return brings back amazing memories of concerts, of great times – and even those memories give strength, hope and always brought a smile back on my face. How much strength and hope concerts have given me in the past – there is no words to explain this.

An example was the US tour of Apocalyptica back in 2015 – I was at the bottom, I was depressed to an extend that I was hardly able to bear it anymore, was ready to quit my job because of several reasons and simply couldn´t cope anymore. The trip to the US was exhausting – physically, but especially mentally. I´ve been crying a like a baby – not at one show, not at two, not at three, no – at all four of them, Like a baby. During, partially after. And for once I didn´t give the smallest fuck if anyone saw me crying. All the pain that had piled up had to just get out of my system somehow – and music made this possible. It was painful, it was hard work. But it helped. It helped better than any medicine or other therapy could have ever helped me.

And then here we are…it´s about inner peace for me, to make my mind shut up and stop making up problems that are none – and music helps. Temporarily. So I run from one show to another, or at least feel the urge for it. And spend moe money on it than I would have ever imagined – I am close to 40 shows now, add on top of the tickets also traveling, accommodation, and groceries needed extra, fuel money, and and and. It´s a sum of money, whilst I would be out cheap if I would just shut up and take what the doctors would like to prescribe – isn´t it bitter? the easiest and somehow healthiest therapy is the one noone cares about…
Conclusion?
I haven´t YET booked my flight and concert ticket…not yet…

Manage your life!


Actually I had hoped that this little text would somewhen appear on “To write love on her arms”, a page about depressions and everything related – but since they have so many pitched articles, mine fell kinda off the edge of the table.

But as I invested time and effort in it nevertheless, and it had been quite some writing with an “aha effect” for me, I will share it with you anyways!


I am a planner, organizer, everything in control person and people say I m great at what I am doing – probably that’s why I made this to be my job. Juggling with time frames, deadlines, humans and money is what I do in my job with passion and a perfectionist’s precision.

Luckily, or unfortunately, I am also in my private life in a passionate and tight relationship with my zillions of to-to lists for every day, and my little pocket calendar – all spread throughout my whole apartment. Under the couch, on my desk, on my wall…

You might be laughing about it, as I usually do – but you know what I noticed? This urge to plan everything in detail (even vacations are my planning-victims) has started just when all this chaos in my head, as I call it in a way, started.

So much had gotten lost in these storms of thoughts, feelings, fears and ideas that at some points I wanted to make up for this “weakness”, officially labelled as depression with a tendency of bipolar behaviour. I didn’t want to forget appointments anymore, let down friends and forget my family’s birthdays so I started this all. I found my own ways and I realized how good it felt to actually be in control of something – noting everything down in something tangible gave me this feeling of security that I was able to carry around and simply look at when my brain forgot what day it was and what was on my plate for the day.

And being in control of at least something in my life as I felt like – that was what I liked about it. More and more – every day I also realized how much others appreciated me being in control of my life as they thought it was like. And how they liked to have me help with planning parties, vacations, surprises – I was someone to rely on when it comes to the detailed planning, not forgetting a thing. Because somewhere, on some sheet of paper, I had it all noted down. You just had to find it somewhere.

And this is also how it was in my profession as a project manager – if you look at me, I am perfectly organised, I rock a team of quite a few members and don’t forget a single deadline or important matter to discuss. What noone saw for a long time was, that it wasn’t all in my head. It was in my two calendars, my lists, the messages to myself in the company’s chat tool. I was functioning as you would expect it to be for someone who works on a project bringing millions of revenue – as a ypung woman in the IT business you have to stand your man even more, I always thought. Show no weaknesses, go strong or go home.

But they saw how it looked inside of me when I had lost my calendar with important appointment info and to do lists. Those days were tough ones at work, needing to explain to people why I all of a sudden forget meetings, deadlines, important matters even though they were raised just a day or even a few hours ago. I felt stripped, naked, busted – and waited for everything to fall into the tiniest possible pieces. And I waited. And waited. And nothing happened – people joked about me being human at last, and built me up again. I made it bigger than it was to my team, and it was an amazing feeling to see and especially feel how I was accepted with my flaws and noone had stopped appreciating me now that my “mystery” was laid open. And I was surprised that I was not even alone with depressions in my team, suddenly I had peope come up to me and out in meetings with me, feeling even more safe and understood before and after all these experiences that I made, I simply had to help and encourage my folks tob e open about it as it´s nothing tob e ashamed of. Have them do what I didn´t dare to do before this mistake that I really do not regret anymore, it´s turned from a curse to a blessing because it enabled me tob e myself. A 100% myself and not just a person wearing a mask to fit the system or what I believed was the system right there.

You see, not every weakness ends up being a “contra” point used against you – I learned to be creative to work around those weaknesses and maybe be ahead of them, and learned from failing to hide them. Embrace yourself, embrace what others see as weaknesses or flaws and think outside of the box to turn them into strengths that make you stand out. Because if you you, it´s not only making you human and feeling better, but you might just as well be an inspiration to others, fighting the same silent and hidden fight as you were before „coming out“.

Neurodermatitis – once and forever

Actually I had planned to be writing this already in spring, when, after many years, I had my first acute attack of nerodermatitis. But I dropped the idea, and this post remained in my “drafts box” for pretty much half a year.

Why? Because somehow, after thinking about it, I felt ashamed. Who wants to talk about an illness that attacks the skin and makes you scratch it and makes you look like…you cannot take care of yourself and of your skin properly?

For me it started when I was still a really little kid – we have many photos of me with gloves to keep me from scratching, the woundly scratched skin and covered with creme skin…and my often terribly annoyed facial expression. You know, you cannot compare this to what it is like nowadays, because it is very different.

Now I can understand and, on my own, fight the outcomes of stress, anxities and everything – but it still drives me nuts and makes everything even worse. You know, you´re stressed, things are not going well maybe even, and then this rash appears. And if it wasn´t enough, it also attacks your hands and fingers. And then you go to work and even possibly need to shake hands, or poeple see your skin, see how it looks like and you feel judged. And even if everyone would be running around blindfolded, you would still feel the looks of the others. And then you are even more stressed and feeling uncomfortable and the skin issues get worse and worse… This is how the devil´s circle looks like for me, and has for quite a while.

You really need to learn to accept it ass a part of yoursel and not stress about it, though it is tough and I am nowhere near this point. But I keep trying, just as I also keep trying to kill the stress that causes these attacks, as I try to stop scratching and peeling off my skin (well, let´s be honest, when I was writing these lines, I was acually rippng off little pieces of skin that came halfway off my finger because of it…).

And being the person I am, I tend to forget to take my cortison creme with me so that I can take care of my skin not only in the morning and evening – I know I should but…that creme is so sticky and…I always forget it at home or lose it somewhere and then in the evening I am all desperate because then I can really  use it properly…and somehow I hate it because it makes me feel as if I was sick. It´s this great amount of nice denial that makes me have these thoughts, not really aware of it, but sometimes I am like…why am I so against it? Simply because it displays that if I need it, I gotta have some…condition.

…and because my damned hand is itchy again and I cannot find the creme, I gotta finish off here and now – maybe you got the point of this little blog entry 😉