Angela Schrøder

Jeg står bak Livet som Krølltopp!


Velkommen til Livet som Krølltopp, bloggen hvor jeg dokumenterer livet i form av the struggles og the not so struggles. Nyt lesingen og send meg en melding på Instagram om du har noe på hjertet.

Instagram Nametag.JPG


It is not about blogging anymore. It is about living. Right now, I do not live on this planet. I am here, working, functioning, but I do not live. I get up every, not morning, but somewhere around noon. I drink a cup of coffee, not because I need it to wake up, but because it is a habit. I do not enjoy this coffee at all, I throw it out and head for work. Showering is something I do because I have to, same thing with eating. I am starting to understand why people think I might have an eating-disorder. I am starting to understand how people are capable of having eating-disorders, if it's anything like this. For me, my body might get hungry but I don't. My stomach can scream and rumble a lot, but I do not feel hunger. I do not want to eat and it feels like I don't need to eat. There is no pain in my body from not getting any nutrition. Or maybe there is, only I am so used to it that I no longer feel it.

This all sounds very whiny I think.

I kind of feel like I am Okay, and at the same time, I do feel like going on a three month sickleave, which I know will ruin my life, or at least my career. How far am I supposed to take this? How bad do I have to feel for it to be like; "hi, my name is Angela and I have hit the wall"? Because I mean, I do live and stuff. I am here and I am, well maybe not Okay, but something like that.

I do not think others live a life like this, and I know mine has never been this bad before. As my friend said to me yesterday, I put everyone else's needs before my own. I guess I do do that. Because I know there are so many people out there who has a worse life than me. And they aren't complaining, are they? Why should I get to be sad and exhausted and ill, when they're not?

It's like, yeah, my life totally sucks, but why should I bother everyone else about it? Why do others have to pay for my mistakes, when I am kind of capable of doing that myself? I want to tell myself to get myself together, I just can’t be bothered. Still, here I am, writing this right now, maybe posting it on the big old Internet. Maybe.