Depression and how to get out


Good morning guys. Today I want to talk about something serious. For most of you, it´s no secret that I lived with a depression for many years. Today I don´t just want to tell you about how it is to live with a depression, I also want to tell you how you can live with it and how to get out. Getting out of a depression is not something that will happen quickly. It´s hard work. Working on yourself and something that sometimes seems impossible. I live with my depression for more than 10 years. I had some very difficult times, but now I know how to live with my depression and be happy, even if I am diagnosed with depression. What can be reasons for a depression?

Stressful Life Events, Grief and Loss, Genetics and Biology, Brain Chemistry Imbalance, Female Sex Hormones, seasonal affective disorder, Physical Health Problems, Circadian Rhythm Disturbance, Poor Nutrition, drugs, etc.

I think in my situation it was the stress that I had and of course my female sex hormones ;) I think it started when I was 6 years old. I was different than all the other kids in my school so very soon everybody started bullying me. Not just saying mean things, also they spat on me, they stole my diary and read aloud, so the whole school could hear my most private secrets. (I was in love with somebody from school and he laughed the most when he found out). I ran home crying often. Sometimes I just left school. When I tried to talk with the teachers, they just told me not to be such a pussy (?). That was fucking hard for me. It was like nobody understood me. I didn´t wanna talk to my parents, so they didn´t really know. When I was 10 years old, my parents told me that we would leave Holland and move to Switzerland. I was so happy; a new start! I went shopping with my mom, bought this amazing purple skirt with many colorful flowers on it and wore that on my first school day in Switzerland. I really believed in myself but reality hits you hard... First of all, I could not speak 1 word in Swiss-german or German so that was reason no. 1 to laugh about me. The reason no. 2 was that I wore colorful clothes and in the small village where I lived they only wore sport and ski clothes. I did everything wrong when I was myself so I tried to be somebody else. In this time I started to heave breathing problems and panic attacks. Of course, the students almost had to laugh when I had these panic attacks, they thought I just wanted attention so when I had these attacks I tried to hide them until I had to cry. I had my first therapy when I was 12 years old. I was scared being outside of my bed, I just wanted to lie in bed with I blanked over my head. When I was at home I mostly just lie in bed because I was so scared of doing something wrong. Also, singing helped me at this time. Music helped me calm down and was my "drug". When I was 15 I could finally leave school and I also left my parent's house. I just want to go as far away as possible. I moved to a city where I didn´t know anybody. I wanted to have a fresh start. I looked at myself in the mirror and I found out that I had no idea who I was. I always tried to be what others wanted me to be. Unfortunately, I never talked to my parents all of these years, my depression made me a horrible kid and I thought they were super annoying (now I know how amazing they are and I know I should have talked with them). So I was there in this city I didn´t know, I colored my hair, did a diet and was super skinny (yes the eating problems started here) and I saw that boys were getting interested in me. I fell in love with a boy and I was so happy. Yes, I wasn´t afraid anymore of going outside my house. The panic attacks only came 2,3 times a month and I felt better. Yes, I think I was happy. The happiness didn´t last long. That boy tried to rape me one night while I was at a party. I ran home crying and I was so scared. But I thought I couldn´t live with someone paying attention to me. I baked him a cake and brought it to him. When I was standing in front of his door he and all his friends came out of his house and started laughing about me. They called me a whore (I was still a virgin by the way) and I ran away while I couldn´t stop crying. In this time I wanted revenge. I wanted to forget everything that I have been through. I thought that I needed someone so I could feel something and also I started drinking. In this time I had many men, lost my virginity, and found out how alcohol could save my life (of course alcohol almost ruined me). I moved to some different places and the sense of my life was alcohol, party, and men. I was heartbroken every day because everybody left me. I felt worthless. Because all of this shit that happened to me I never ever talked to my parents. Why would they love me when I couldn´t even love myself? I lived this life for many years. I came to that point where I knew I needed to change something. I went to a church, started praying (I felt like an idiot) and I tried to stop drinking. I tried to stop with the men. I tried to stop all the things that ruin me. I started with songwriting again and playing the piano. You cannot imagine how many years I needed to be who I am now. How many therapies, in how many hospitals I was. How many health hospitals. How many broken relationships. In the end, I can tell you that the most important thing is to be yourself. Be who you truly are! Be you, even if everybody wants you to be somebody else. When you feel empty, don´t look for something or somebody so you feel something. Listen to yourself. Are you really who you are? Are you who you want to be? Start doing the things that you love! For me, it was singing, dancing, sports! All students called me ugly, my whole live (in Holland and in Switzerland) and I started to believe that. That´s not true! One day I thought "Hey you look okay". I contacted some model agencies and suddenly everybody wanted to work with me. I started singing in public, I had some really big concerts. I stopped caring about what other people thought about me. I cannot be happy when I am not myself. I think all those years I was just trying to find myself. This is the most important thing. I needed to find out who I am. I needed to found out that I am loved. I needed to found out that I am original, I only exist once. And so do you! You are perfect! With all your own colors, with all your own ideas and your own crazy mind! You are imperfectly perfect!

Countries where I lived - Part 2



When I was 21 years old, I decided to leave Switzerland and move to the Spanish party-island Mallorca. A company in Spain offered me a job as an animator in a big hotel. I never worked in animation before, but I thought it sounds better than working in a restaurant. I did not really plan something, I just left Switzerland one week after I heard of the job. I went to the airport with my bags and arrived a few hours later in Mallorca. The company had an apartment for me so that sounded really cool. I went with a car to Sa Coma, an amazing place on the island and met my boss for the first time. She was a cool, crazy woman and I liked her from the beginning. She showed me my apartment, which I would share with 3 other entertainers and told me that my work would start the other day, I could eat in the hotel where I would work and I had one free day a week. That sounded tough but I was too happy to be at such an amazing island then to even think about working conditions. I brought my stuff to my room, took my bikini with me and went to the beach (which was in front of my apartment). When I was sitting on the beach and enjoying the sun, I started to realize that I didn´t know anybody here and I did not even speak one word in Spanish. Suddenly I started feeling a bit weird, maybe a bit scared. My motivation to stay in Sa Coma was the sun, the sea and also my new crazy job. In the next few weeks, I lived a dream. I had some really nice and funny colleagues in the hotel, I worked with kids and sang in a lot of evening shows. Every day I was singing, dancing, being crazy and being crazier. And they paid me for that! :) So in the beginning, it was like the perfect job for me. But after a few weeks, I realized how hard it was for me to be happy and friendly every day (even to the not really pretty and a bit fat hotel guest who tried flirting with me all the time) and watch 50 kids a day. I tried and I tried. To be honest, I loved the island, I loved the amazing people in Mallorca, I loved the job as an entertainer, but I just could not handle it anymore. Too many kids I guess... Also, I met a Spanish girl who I really liked at that time, we had a thing going on and suddenly she became really boring and crazy in a psycho way. I mean, more psycho than I am, so that means super-psycho. That was another reason for me to leave. The biggest reason of all became my stalker. Once when I walked home after work, it must be like 1 a.m. or something, a young girl started talking with me. I was confused but I am nice, so I talked a bit with her. Soon she showed me how impressed she was and how badly she wanted to be like me. First I did not really care, but very soon here behavior became scary. This girl followed me every time when I walked to work and when I walked home. Suddenly she came into the hotel, watched my dancing shows and started talking with my colleagues. She told them that I was her best friend, a lot of bullshit. I told her to stop; stop stalking, stop being weird and stop being annoying. Really, guys, I am nice... But that was too much for me. She apologized but it did not help. In the end, I went to the police, I told the hotel workers not to let her in the hotel anymore and I never walked home alone. Once I hit her with a plastic chair, which was actually kinda crazy, but I would do it again if I could. I mean, I didn´t hurt her, I just showed her that she should not mess with Chrissy ;) After a crazy history in Mallorca and everybody knowing me, I decided to leave, which was also very spontaneous. I suddenly called my mom, told her that I would fly back to Switzerland in a few hours and that's where I live now. Mallorca was nice but I guys even I could not handle it. Or maybe they couldn´t handle me... ;)

Me in Mallorca

Me in Mallorca


Countries where I lived - Part 1


Today I want to tell you guys a bit about all the places where I lived. I like traveling and I also like changing my living place. I am 23 years old now and lived in 13 different places; two in Holland, 7 in Switzerland and 2 in Mallorca (Spain).

“Flappie” and me in 2005

“Flappie” and me in 2005

I was born in Ter-Apel in Holland, where I lived until I was 4 years old. I was so young, so I actually don't really remember anything from that time. Then we moved to Musselkanaal, which is 15 minutes from Ter-Apel, we lived in front of a canal which is a Dutch sort of river and because of that we had a small wooden boat and we were fishing a lot. In winters we were ice skating on the canal, in summers we also swam in there. When we lived in Musselkanaal we had a big garden. Kids from school never liked me, so I mostly played alone in the garden. We had a garden house with a lot of roses, I played a lot of chess with my father and I also liked building houses out of wooden. I think all in all I had a great time in Musselkanaal. I was 10 years old and my parents decided to leave Holland and we moved to Switzerland, a mini-small town in Switzerland with only 500 people called "Alpthal". I was nervous and happy because I have been bullied all of my childhood in Holland and I was hoping for a new start. Of course, I wanted to take my grandparents and my cousin with me, unfortunately, this was not possible. In December 2005 we left Holland and drove to Switzerland. The whole trip I held my bunny, called "Flappie", in my hands because I thought he wouldn't like sitting in a car. Late in the evening we finally arrived in Alpthal. Because I was sleeping the last hours of the trip, my mom woke me up. I opened my eyes and I was shocked! There were walls of snow! 2 meter high! "Wow mom, they have snow here!!" was my first reaction. My parents brought our stuff into the house, which looked like an old ghost house. The house was beautiful and scary at the same time. It was very old, all the walls were wooden and it was huge! I think I have never been in a bigger and scarier house than this one. Also, some strange things happened at that time in the house, I thought I was crazy. In the beginning, the start in a new country, speaking a new language that I did not understand at all and living in a ghost-house was not easy. Children at school bullied me because I did not understand them and I was different. They could all ski like pros and I never skied before. But with months, years it got better. I started to understand Swiss-German and the German language and I also spoke some words. It took me about 1,5 year to speak perfect German and Swiss-German. I don't know how, but I survived the time in the creepy house in Alpthal. I was very young when I left my parent's house. I lived in 7 different places in Switzerland and when I was 21 I decided to leave Switzerland and move to a Spanish island called "Mallorca". I had a job as an animator there and I could sing a lot:) In my next blog, I will tell you about my stay in Mallorca, what I liked and why I came back. See you next time!


young me with only 1 tattoo :)

young me with only 1 tattoo :)

My first tattoo ever


I have a lot of tattoos. I don't know if I have 10, maybe 20, but all of my tattoos has their own stories. I did my first tattoo when 17 years old. I always knew that I wanted to make a full sleeve (one arm full tattooed) with roses, but I had no idea what else I wanted on my arm, so I just started with the roses on my upper arm. A friend had told me about a good tattoo studio, so I called them to make an appointment. Of course I lied to them and told them that I am 18 years old. I don't know on what date I had the appointment, but I knew, I had to be there at 2 p.m. I was super nervous, brought a friend of mine with me because I was afraid of feeling pain. I don't know why I did it, but before I had the appointment I googled a lot of tattoo-horror-stories; people who had infections, people who almost died because of the pain, some of them had an allergic reaction,.. I googled the bad things that could happen, so I almost cried when I waited in the tattoo studio. The tattoo studio looked nice, a good atmosphere and everything was clean (I knew this was very important). While I was waiting, the boss of the tattoo studio (who is now, 6 years later a very good friend) came to me, and I asked her about the tattoo pain. She told me about her own tattoos that they didn't hurt, except for the flower on her knee and the chili on her ass, which she showed me proudly. The tattoo artist told me that he was ready and starting to draw the lines of the tattoo on my arm. He said to me that it would be a big tattoo and we would need about 6 hours. I fake-smiled at him, and I hoped that he wouldn't see how scared I was (he looked like a gang boss or a drug dealer 🙃) and I was a 17-year-old girl who tried to look okay) but he noticed that I almost died. "Don't worry, you won't feel anything. It's only your arm, you're not a pussy right?". Actually I was a pussy, I couldn't go to the dentist alone and I never went to the doctor because I was afraid of needles...and now I wanted to make a tattoo? Oh no, this wasn't a good idea! "Eeh..can I go to the toilet?" was my shy question. The tattoo guy answered with a "perfect, I want to smoke anyway" and I ran out of the room. When I was in the restroom, I stared at myself in the mirror, tried not to cry and calm down myself. My friend knocked at the door, asked me if I'm okay. I answered shortly with a "yes" and opened the door. "Can we start?" asked the gang-boss-tattoo-guy. I answered with a nod, took a deep breath and we started. Then I started laughing. This moment was super funny because I realized that a tattoo on the upper arm didn't hurt at all. We worked on the tattoo for 3 hours, then I needed a break because I started shaking and hadn't eat the whole day. We ordered some pizza - pizza Hawaii of course - and drank a beer. The gang-boss-tattoo-guy, who wasn't a gang-boss or drug dealer but just a normal tattoo-artist who also worked at a bank before (!?) seemed like a cool, normal guy. We talked for a while and finished the tattoo in the following 4 hours. I was glad when we finally finished the tattoo session because I felt tired and weak. The pain was okay, but I just wanted to sleep. Getting a tattoo feels for me like doing a lot of sports. 

Later, when I was at home, I cleaned the tattoo, like the tattoo artist said, put cream on it and did this every day for the next 2 weeks. I couldn't sleep the first night, because the tattoo started to hurt, but 3 days later the pain was gone and my tattoo began to heal. 2,3 weeks later everything was good, no pain, nice tattoo and I already had my second appointment for my arm. In the following year, I tattooed my stomach, my neck, and my upper legs. My parents always told me to stop, which I actually did for 7 months. Then I did my right hand, my décolleté, I started with my legs, began with a tattoo on my back, and I started with my right arm. Right now I have a lot of unfinished tattoos, just because I am too lazy to finish them. When I think back to the time when I get my first tattoo, I have to laugh. It was so big and special for me, I was so nervous. For me, it was very special. All my tattoos have a story, a meaning. I will tell you next time about it!

my fresh tattoo when I was 17 😋

my fresh tattoo when I was 17 😋