Today has been really good and productive. I had my meeting with Din Indgang. For anyone outside Denmark wondering what Din Indgang is, it's a free support service run by my local municipality. It's designed for people who need a little extra support in everyday life, whether that's because of mental health, chronic illness, disability, or other life challenges.

I have a support worker through Din Indgang who checks in with me once a week. Before our session, I go for a short walk - at the moment that's only around forty steps - and afterwards we have a one-hour video call where we talk about how I'm doing, the challenges I'm facing, and the small steps I'm taking towards recovery. It's not therapy in the traditional sense, and it's not medical treatment either. It's practical, person-centred support that helps me work towards becoming more independent while recognising that recovery doesn't happen overnight.

During my meeting, I asked whether they could help me access physiotherapy at home. Unfortunately, Din Indgang doesn't offer that service themselves, but they didn't just leave me there. They gave me the contact details for someone who should be able to point me in the right direction. It might seem like a small thing, but for me it feels like progress. Recovery isn't usually one big breakthrough. It's often a series of small steps, one phone call, one appointment, one conversation at a time. Today felt like one of those steps.

When Lasse got home from work, he helped his dad with some work, and then he played on the computer while O listened to Lights Out Audiobook (I've read it before). Loving that this isn't something Lasse would ever listen to on his own, but he does listen while I have it on - and I love his reactions to it! I asked him what he thinks of it, and he thinks it's dumb - says it is a lot to show your mental problems like that - both the writer and the reader. He cracks me up! 

Anyway, it's time for some The Boys and then sleep, night xx 

Today has been one of those days that feels much longer than twenty-four hours. This morning, a guy came to inspect the apartment. The decision to move was already made, so the inspection wasn't about whether I was staying or going, but it still felt like an emotional milestone. Thankfully, I didn't have to be there myself. Lasse went instead, which ended up being good, because I've been having a bit of an IBD flare-up. I am so grateful for Lasse helping out. 

Instead, I spent the day resting. The fatigue hit hard; I slept for quite a while, and I've been feeling feverish on and off. This evening, we all had osso buco goulash for dinner, which was delicious! I am really enjoying the homemade food; it feels like a luxury. 

Right now, I am sitting by my computer, blogging. I've got music playing in the background, an elderflower ice lolly beside me, and Lasse is playing Path of Exile. Very peaceful. 

In a little bit, we will watch The Boys, and then it is time for bed! We both need a good night's sleep as we were up early today, and Lasse has an early day of work tomorrow. 

Goodnight xx 

The past few days have been a whirlwind. For the past two years, I have been in survival mode. Between chronic illness and my mental health, I've reached a point where simply looking after myself and my home has often taken every ounce of energy I had. 

When you're trying to choose between having a shower, eating something, getting out of bed - cleaning an entire home, it doesn't always make the list. Slowly, my apartment has stopped feeling like home, and I haven't been able to keep up. I kept telling myself I'd get on top of it next week. Then next month. Then when I had more energy. Unfortunately, that day never seemed to arrive. 

There is something I've realised through all of this: I am incredibly bad at asking for help. 

Lasse has asked me more times than I can count if there was anything he could do to help. His family has as well. My best friend offered to help out. Yet I struggled to say yes. I worried about being a burden. I worried that I was asking too much. I kept thinking that if I just held on a little longer, I'd somehow find the energy to fix it. Instead, I exhausted myself trying to carry a weight that had become too heavy. 

Accepting help is something I've never been good at. It makes me feel uncomfortable. There's a part of me that still apologises for taking up space, even when the people around me have made it abundantly clear that they want to help. That's a difficult mindset to unlearn. 

On top of all that, the apartment suffered water damage. A leak from the washing machine. What started as a practical problem eventually became much bigger, and despite trying to manage the situation, it has become clear that my tenancy is coming to an end. As difficult as it is to admit, I understand why. A home needs looking after, and I'm simply not in a position to do that right now. Writing that makes me feel incredibly vulnerable because there is still so much shame attached to not coping. We live in a world where struggling is often mistaken for laziness, when in reality there were days where just walking across the room felt like an achievement. 

The truth is I wasn't living. I was surviving. My physical health has declined to the point where I am incredibly deconditioned. I spent far too much time sitting still because I simply didn't have the strength to do more. The less I could do, the harder everyday tasks became, and before I knew it, everything had snowballed. It isn't the life I want, so I have made the decision to move. 

I'll be staying with Lasse and his parents at their house while I search for somewhere new to live. Their kindness has honestly been overwhelming. They've welcomed me without hesitation, encouraged me to focus on resting and getting stronger, and reminded me that accepting help isn't something to be ashamed of. That has probably been the hardest lesson of all. I've spent most of my life believing I had to deal with everything on my own. Asking for help felt like failure. Accepting it felt worse. Maybe healing sometimes begins with letting other people carry a little of the weight. 

Sertraline and Aripiprazole

For a while now, I have been taking two medications: Sertraline and Aripiprazole. Since I often write about OCD and mental health on this blog, I thought I would share a little about why I take them and how they work together.

Sertraline is an SSRI (Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor), which is one of the most common types of medication used to treat OCD. It works by increasing the amount of serotonin available in the brain, which can help reduce anxiety and make intrusive thoughts feel less overwhelming.

Many people with OCD are prescribed an SSRI as a first-line treatment, but sometimes an SSRI alone isn't enough. That's where Aripiprazole can come in.

Aripiprazole is an antipsychotic medication, but despite the name, it is used for many different conditions and at different doses. In OCD, it is sometimes prescribed alongside an SSRI when symptoms are particularly persistent or difficult to treat.

While Sertraline mainly works on serotonin, Aripiprazole affects several brain chemicals, including dopamine and serotonin. Researchers believe that this can help reduce the intensity of obsessive thoughts and improve the brain's ability to let go of certain thought patterns.

The easiest way to think about it is that Sertraline is doing the heavy lifting when it comes to treating the OCD itself, while Aripiprazole is there to give it a helping hand. Rather than replacing the SSRI, it is often added to boost its effectiveness.

Of course, medication is never a magic cure. OCD recovery still involves therapy, learning new coping strategies, and a lot of hard work. Medication can make that work more manageable, but it doesn't do the work for you. Medication often takes time to show its full effects, and finding the right treatment can involve a lot of patience. For now, I'm taking things one step at a time and hoping this combination will help me continue moving forward.

As always, this is simply my personal experience and not medical advice. Everyone responds differently to medication, and what works for one person may not work for another.

OCD and Personality Disorders

As promised in a previous post, I will go into a bit more detail about the whole therapy situation. 

A little while ago, the psychiatric team figured out why my OCD improves for a while and then comes back, so they did some tests, and I met the criteria for a personality disorder. Unfortunately, my OCD is taking up too much space right now for a psychologist to determine which personality disorder I have. The plan was for my OCD to get better, so a specialist would be able to determine which one it is, but since then, my physical health has massively declined - I struggle to walk at this point. So, a new plan, as I mentioned earlier. My physical health needs to improve, and then when I'm better, I will return to therapy. 

So how does a personality disorder actually affect OCD? 

OCD isn't just about the intrusive thoughts and compulsions themselves. Recovery also depends on how a person manages emotions, relationships, stress, self-image, and uncertainty. Personality Disorders can affect many of those areas, which means they can sometimes make OCD much harder to treat. For example, if someone struggles with emotional regulation, they may experience stress and anxiety much more intensely. Since anxiety often fuels OCD, this can make obsessions feel stronger and compulsions harder to resist.

Looking back, it makes a lot of sense why my OCD would improve for a while and then suddenly become much worse again. We were treating the OCD symptoms, but there may have been a deeper issue underneath that wasn't being addressed yet.

That doesn't mean recovery is impossible. If anything, it means there is finally another piece of the puzzle. Understanding what is really going on gives me a better chance of finding the right treatment and making lasting progress in the future.

 The Psychiatric Team is letting me go - For now 

I have been seeing my psychologist since June 2024 for my OCD, which has been good. During this time, the team at the psychiatric hospital has tested me and come to the conclusion that I also have a Personality Disorder - but they don't know which one yet. The plan was to start therapy to figure that part out, as it interferes with my OCD recovery. Basically, the Personality Disorder that has gone undiagnosed for years has kept my OCD very active, making it difficult to recover properly. I will try explaining that in a different post. 

Unfortunately, my physical health at this point is so poorly that I cannot continue with therapy, so now the focus is to keep taking my SSRIs and getting better in terms of physical health. I've created a 12-week exercise plan, and I'll also be receiving professional support to help me start getting outside and going for walks again. There's also some talk about physical therapy. Being bed-bound has made my physical health so much worse, and it will be tough rebuilding strength, but it will be worth it. Once my physical health is better, I will start seeing my therapist again and start group therapy for Personality Disorder, and a specialist will give me a proper, more specific diagnosis. 

Ha! The universe really said April Fool's. I ordered a notebook from Bog & Ide, and instead I got this book. Safe to say I wasn't expecting this. I talked to them, and they will send my notebook, but it will take a while because of the holidays, so I will wait again! They said to just keep this book, and when the lady I talked to laughed at the situation. She said I could keep the book or give it to a good cause. I am intrigued, so I might give it a read.