‘Cause Moving On Is Hard…

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I want to start this post off by saying that I’m no way writing this to get any special attention or pity. The reason I’m writing this is because I’m someone who can’t talk about feelings. I just can’t. I tend to keep everything to myself but lately something in my life happened that I need to process somehow. Some people may say now why are you sharing it with the Internet? I regard my blog as my little corner on the Internet, where I can write whatever I want to. People who read this may judge me but I won’t know because I’ll probably never meet them, so I don’t really mind. Judge me all you want. And trust me it wasn’t easy to write all of this down and to hit the publish button. I just know that I need to share this and since I can’t talk about it I have to write about it. Anyway.. I’m sharing my story because maybe someone else is going through something similar and can feel along and it just helps me to try and move on.

Tomorrow it will be 3 weeks since it all happened. 3 weeks since my dad brought me to the hospital and I ended up in intensive care battling a life threatening disease.

I have always lived pretty healthy. I don’t smoke. I hardly drink. I eat my veggies. I work out every now and then. In general I just try to look after my body. During my vacation in August I suffered from a pretty bad cold, so when I returned home and felt weak and tired all the time I didn’t think of anything bad. I thought it was just still related to my cold. Then on Sunday I woke up with chest pain and whenever I walked stairs I could hardly breath, which seemed a bit alarming to me but still I just thought it was because of my cold. Since I was feeling good besides being a bit out of breath I went out to dinner with some friends of mine and we were even making fun of me for sounding like Darth Vader.

On Monday morning I woke up and I could feel my heart racing so fast like it was about to jump out of my chest. The pressure on my chest had increased a lot. Unfortunately I was home alone. My parents were both at work and my brother was at school. I went downstairs to make me some tea and when I went upstairs again and reached my room I was so out of breath I thought I was going to choke. I lay down on my bed and after 10 minutes my breathing had gone back to normal. I just felt like something was terribly wrong, so I texted my mom and she told me to call my dad. My dad’s a surgeon in a big hospital, so he came right over and brought me there. Since he works there I didn’t have to wait and was brought to a room right away.

I thought I had just some kind of infection and they  would give some antibiotics but things came very differently. They drew blood and run some tests. They told me I had to stay for a few days and after waiting for a while they brought me to a room in a wheelchair. I wasn’t allowed to walk anywhere, which seemed so weird to me because I was feeling fine apart from being out of breath easily. After doing some tests my dad came into my room and told me that I was suffering from pulmonary embolism. What basically happens is that blood clots block arteries in your lungs. No matter how severe it is it’s always life threatening if nothing is done. Of course my dad didn’t tell me that. After doing some more tests one of the doctors I’d met throughout the day came into my room and told me that I would have to be moved into intensive care. That was the moment I realised that it must be something serious because they don’t put you there for no reason. I was moved there on that Monday evening and was hooked up to a bunch of monitors watching my every heartbeat, checking my blood pressure every hour and other stuff. I was terrified.

The next day they told me that my case was pretty severe because it had gone so far that there was blood blocking my right heart. During the next days they put me on pretty heavy medication to dissolve the blood clots. The treatment I had to go through came with lots of risks but I don’t want to go through all the details. I kind of just want to forget those days because it didn’t all work like it was supposed to and some complications came up but eventually it all came to an end.

After almost 2 weeks in the hospital the blood clots in my lungs and in my right heart were gone and I was healthy again. They released me and I returned home. On my last day they did one last test and everything looked like nothing ever happened. One of the doctors told my dad that he’d never seen anything like that. Usually you don’t get away without any permanent damage to your heart after such a severe case.

I was so lucky. If my dad wasn’t a surgeon and hadn’t once studied these things I probably wouldn’t have gone to the hospital right away. And if his colleagues hadn’t acted so fast and tried their everything to help me I probably wouldn’t be writing this right now.

I still have to take heavy medication for a while but basically I’m healthy again. Still I’m scared. I missed 2 weeks of university and I’m just scared of I don’t even know what. It’s just that one moment I was out with my friends and 24 hours later I found myself in intensive care hooked up to all these machines with a dangerous disease. I realised how fast life can change. In just seconds everything can be over.

Sometimes I feel so sad even though I should be crying tears of joy for still being here. Sure I’m glad it’s all over and I’m okay again. I’m beyond glad. I’m so grateful. But still I’m scared of my everyday life the way it was. I still have nightmares about those nights in the hospital when I was laying there in intensive care at night. When my parents where with me during the day they took my mind off of things but when I was alone at night all the horrible thoughts came to haunt me.

So tomorrow I’m going to my first lecture again. I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about everything to my friends in person. Writing it all down is so much easier but having to actually say it. I’m so scared I won’t be able to catch up on all of the things I missed. Plus I will be away from home and my parents in another country again. It’s all so scary to think about but I know I eventually have to get back on track and start living my life again. Right now I’m just kind of here. I used to be such a happy person. I had so many dreams and plans. I still do but right now it all seems so irrelevant. I used to get so freaking excited when I bout a new lipstick or eyeshadow or something like that and now I don’t feel anything really. I just feel kind of empty.

I just hope I can get back to my old self because I liked my old self. I hope that going back to uni will help me move on from this. I survived and now I need to start living again. My only problem is that I’m scared.

Wish me luck for tomorrow because I’m terribly nervous already!

Also I’d like to thank everyone who is reading my blog, liking and commenting on my pictures. This really means the world to me and I can’t believe that a little over 300 people are actually reading my rambles. Thank you so much!

Sophie

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College: An Emotional Roller Coaster Ride

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It’s official! I survived my first semester of college. This is just so crazy. It’s like just yesterday I turned sixteen and went to my first high school dance and now I’m 2 months away from turning 19 and my second semester starts on monday. MONDAY! I can’t believe how fast time is flying by. It’s almost scary. So much has happened in just this last year. I changed from an unsure and insecure high school student into a pretty ambitious college student, who finally somewhat knows what she wants.

Last year around this time I was about to graduate and all I wanted was for time to slow down. I was terrified of the future because I had no idea what I wanted to do after school. All I ever wanted since I was eleven was doing an exchange year in the US. I can’t explain why but it was my goal in life so after my year was finished and I was back home I was so clueless. I’ve achieved what I wanted and I no longer had something to work for. I wasn’t exactly bad in school. I was just average because I didn’t have a reason to be really good. I didn’t know what I was doing it all for.

When I found out that I could do American Studies in the Netherlands and that I would have a lot of opportunities with that study later I really wanted to do it, so when I got accepted I was so incredibly happy. I have to admit I was a little scared of moving to a different country again and being the odd one out, but now I know that it was all worth it. I’ve passed all of my exams so far and I’m doing really good. Actually I’ve never been this motivated to study and be successful. It feels so good to be great at something. Besides make-up and fashion I’ve always had a passion for writing. I’m not good with talking about my thoughts and feelings but writing helps me to express those. I love how you can create a story and maybe touch someone’s heart with it. Writing gives you a voice, that might be heard. When people see me most of them just see me as this little blonde fashion doll, I guess, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t write a good academic essay on a historical story, now does it? Because guess what! I got an A on my last one! I know a lot of people never expected something like that of me and it’s such an amazing feeling to prove them wrong.

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Now that I’ve finished my first semester I know I definitely made the right decision. Moving to the Netherlands to do American Studies is the best thing that I could’ve possibly done and I’m so glad I took this opportunity. In order to get accepted into my University I had to pass a Dutch State exam and before last summer I didn’t speak a single word of Dutch. Over the summer I worked my butt of to learn as much Dutch as possible and pass the state exam. My Dutch is still nowhere near fluent but I passed the exam and I got accepted.

Looking back on the last few months I don’t think I’ve ever been this emotional. It’s definitely been a roller coaster ride of emotions for me. I’ve had my ups and downs. Sometimes when I passed an important exam or got a really good grade on an assignment I felt like I was on top of the world, like I owned it, and the next day I failed an exam or assignment or had trouble fitting in, because of the language barrier, and all I wanted to do was cry and hide in my bed for the rest of my life. I felt like such a failure but despite all that it’s also been one of the best few months of my life. I’ve come to realise how good I can be at something if I really work hard. I’ve at least found a direction for my future. A goal I’m working towards. I’ve met some great new people. I’m actually genuinely happy! I sometimes miss my friends at home and communicating with people in Dutch is still hard for me, but it’s getting better every day. I think I’ve grown up a lot in the last few months living on my own most of the time having to face all of the challenges studying abroad brought along with it pretty much on my own.

I’m so so so glad I gave this all a shot though being totally scared and I’m looking forward to my second semester. If the rest of my college experience will be just as eventful I know it’ll be an experience that will change me in a lot of good ways. I know a lot of good times are ahead of me just as hard times. I’ll have to work hard to keep my grades up,  because the failure rate for an exam is about 50% each time, which I think is quite a lot. But whatever.. I’ve done it before so I’ll be able to do it again.

Wow. This post’s gotten a lot longer and more personal than intended, so I hope I didn’t bore anyone. I guess what I’m trying to say is just, if you’re being offered a great opportunity in life take it! It might be terrifying  as hell at first, but if you don’t take it you might end up regretting it. I know I would’ve missed out on a lot if I hadn’t done this. It’s been a challenge and it will continue to be a challenge but I know I don’t want this emotional roller coaster ride to end yet.

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Have a great Sunday! XX