All those many times I told her to fuck off, but I can’t separate me from myself.
Just leaving some Hope here…
Is life more comfortable for people who believe in a deity? I wonder about it once in a while. A have a very close friend who shares all these sayings about Jesus and God, and I just can’t relate.
Mind you; my upbringing was very religious. I went to church from an early age on; was an altar boy (girl). I sang in a choir. I went to an all-girls private Catholic school.
At one moment, I grew out of religion, I believed. I prayed. But my miracles didn’t come. Not even in disguise. I tried to find God the way I was told to in church and in school. Maybe I was blind? I couldn’t find anything or anyone that guided me or made me feel safer. And so I moved on and went on a quest.
I read Anton Szandor LaVey to rebel. And I found some thoughts that appealed to me in his writings and essays. For a while, the books were like a shield I help up in front of me. “Don’t mess with me; I know satanism.” It kept many people away from me. Add the constant earphones plugged in, and you get why I was an outsider. I didn’t feel the need to fit in. I was superior to them, and more educated too. Because I chose to read whatever I could get my hands on. I didn’t talk unless I had a valid argument to make (or a teacher asked something). I was polite and kind, like I am today, but very distant.
I moved on from the satanism because I didn’t like the angry attitude. I listened to angry music too at that time. Until I discovered how stupid and closed-minded most of those bands were and they kept spewing their ignorance and hate. I am not an angry person. It’s an emotion I am not all too familiar with. I am not a stupid person either. New music found me. Inspiring and beautiful. Positive. For the first time in my life that something positive crossed my path. Astounding that it was music. Then again, it’s not really a surprise. (Not for those who read this blog more often)
On my journey, I discovered Buddhism. And studied it for a while. From everything I tried, this is what is closest to me. But I am not a Buddhist. I learned a lot about how to treat people with kindness, about being grateful, and about taking care of the environment. I don’t meditate anymore. I am too nervous inside to sit still.
Did I ever mention that I cannot sit still? I am told that I exude calm, but I can never sit still. Something is always moving (my legs, my fingers, my mind)
So here I am. Today. Living across from a church without any drive to ever go inside. And I am a bit lost on my way. (Again)
I am wearing onyx beads, for calm. I am wearing my pentagram around my neck to keep evil spirits away. And I am not even that spiritual. Okay, I read my horoscope, and I believe in the power of dreams, as well as in the power of positivity. But I don’t consider myself to be spiritual.
And I wonder… If I believed in God, would it be easier to cope with whatever life throws my way? But I can’t. I can’t believe. My son has a hoodie from the boy scouts. In the logo is a cross. And it doesn’t soothe me at all. It makes me angry… For no real reason. I can acknowledge that being informed about religions is general knowledge, but I can’t have it shoved down our throats. Maybe I am too critical? Maybe my thoughts have never occurred to other people? Maybe I am too complicated and overthinking? Then again, it was the same twenty years ago…
I don’t know where this post leads and I am not expecting answers… It’s just something that comes up in my mind all the time.
It is scary to fall apart publicly. It is even scarier to fall apart all alone. But you are not alone. And the darkness and apathy is understood and lived by many. Me included. There are these high highs and the low lows. And all I want is this: if you look at me, please see me. If you see me for the damaged person that I am, please love me. I felt from you words that you feel the same. The outside world can be perfect, but if the inside feels like a storm, the most perfect life becomes dull and blunt. Sometimes, life is overwhelming. Sometimes, all we can do is cry and let the tears wet our cheeks for seemingly no reason. And maybe, maybe it looks as if you aren’t doing anything, as if you aren’t moving. But you are doing a whole lot. You are not giving up. You are light, Nathan. You don’t see it because you are in the dark, but believe me, you are light.
On top of that, you are not missing from your life. This may not be how media or friends or whoever suggests life to be, but sometimes it is like that. Sometimes we fall apart. You are there. I can see you! And I like this vulnerable side of you. There is nothing wrong with it. Fall, Nate… we are there to catch you.
Thank you for your honesty.
I remember reading Nate’s post and falling apart too. November 2017 should have been amazing. It should have been the most precious and extraordinary month of my life. But for reasons that were not in my control, it wasn.’t. And I fell. For months I had been struggling and I had been trying to keep moving. But then came the time and I fell. And no one seemed to see it. Or maybe they did and it didn’t matter? I didn’t matter.
I was giving up. I was ready to give up my life. My poetry book “Quiet Minds” was supposed to be my final mistake and my final goodbye. But when I published that book, I felt something. I felt proud of myself. I loved that side of me – the creative/writing side. And through all the muddled thoughts, I began to see myself. Many days I am still my own worst enemy, but there are also the days when I am my biggest fan.
I am a fan of the comment I wrote and shared above. I am sure that I wasn’t sober when I wrote it, but I can assure you, my words are my truth.
Dilemma of the day:
I lost my favourite CD. I always put my CDs back in their case. But it is not there… I was looking anywhere I can think of… Even in other cases. But I cannot find it. I am sure it is somewhere… I am contemplating to buy it again.
I was at a training for work today. The first exercise this week went like this:
Groups of 6 people. One person gets to sit in the middle and is not allowed to talk. The other 5 people say which qualities they think the person in middle has. This was done after five minutes of introduction and not knowing anyone in the room. This was said about me:
* quite popular
* lots of patience
* open to new ideas
*receptive in the team
* likes to communicate
*has team spirit
* calm is radiating from you
Only positive comments were allowed. And afterwards I was asked to give my own feedback. Some of these things are easy to agree with. but I am not creative, I am not organised and I am not self-confident. Or so I think. I looked everyone in the eye, challenging them, encouraging them to say things. I didn’t think it came across as being self-confident. I went first too. And during the training, I often spoke. Still, I Don’t think I am self-confident. Or maybe I am confident but still shy. Or maybe I used to be shy but it changed in recent years? I don’t know.
It was the second time I was in a training with the same instructor. And the first time we did a similar exercise. Both times we were only allowed to say positive thing. It’s nice. Brings a smile to one’s face and is a positive appreciation.
How do you see me?
PS: obviously that’s not my handwriting – I know how to spell my name 🙂
Some writers like to stay incognito. Most bloggers prefer to stay unknown. I am a little different. I think once in a while it is good to see the people behind the screen and the eyes of of the writers. I also like to share pictures of my handwriting. Not because it is particularly pretty, but it completes an image. I am an open book anyway.
Like me or not. See me or ignore me. I am here… There is a lot of me, and I have some moments of awesomeness.
My book “Unquiet Minds” is still available on Amazon. And in my inbox. (email@example.com)
- Ten years ago, I was pregnant with my second child; my first daughter
- Ten years ago, I was on maternity leave
- Ten years ago, I lived in a completely different house
- Ten years ago, I was twenty-five years old
- Ten years ago, my son was three years old and had just started Précoce (after nursery but before preschool)
- Ten years ago, I had never written a story nor a poem (if it wasn’t for school)
- Ten years ago, I drove a small blue car
- Ten years who, my best friend thought it was best to break up our friendship. We reconciled in 2011, and she broke our friendship up again this year
- Ten years ago, my music collection was only a third of what it is today
- Ten years ago, I didn’t chat with random people
- Ten years ago, I didn’t cuss
- Ten years ago, my English was way worse than it is today
- Ten years ago, my grandma was still alive
- Ten years ago, I was happy
- Ten years ago, I had no idea that one of my biggest wishes would come true… But beware what you wish for…
- Ten years ago, I had no friends
- Ten years ago, I lived in a messy house and watched TV all day long
- Ten years ago, I was still a child
- If I had known then what I know now… But I didn’t. No regrets.
Maybe life was easier ten years ago. I was healthier, physically and psychologically. I was more naive. More alone. Oblivious to the things around me. I was educated but uninterested. I lived in my bubble, and I was happy that I didn’t have to work. I liked being home and spent hours on end with my sister on the phone. I bought tons of movies to watch. I can’t imagine that life again, although it was a lot less complicated. I like being a mom of three. I love work; especially the job I have now. Writing became a life-breath for me. I am a lot more active and interested. I am opinionated, and if I can be totally honest, I think that my views are interesting too. I am still shy and an introvert. I am hiding in plain sight, making it look as if I am not hiding at all. The 2018/Cathy is a lot more fun than the younger version. Just ask around. What I miss is the carefree attitude I had back then (and my long hair). Every non-fiction post I share these days is accompanied by that nagging voice asking “who cares?!” It makes me wonder why I doubt myself so much? I have a right to claim my place, just like everyone else. Why am I this sensitive and emotional? Why can’t I accept compliments? Why do I feel the need to diminish my successes, my qualities, my oddities? I have an answer, and I don’t have one. The answer lies in my childhood trauma. But is there not a time when we can’t (or shouldn’t) blame our childhood for our damages? Then again, the childhood years are called formative years for a reason.
Would you like to go back to where you were ten years ago?
My own personal answer is: No. Everything I ever did, every choice and every decision, brought me here. And I wouldn’t want to change anything right now. (But a little financial security would be nice too… It’s not nice to worry about money)
Where were you ten years ago?
I lost my baggage on this trip. I feel infinitely lighter than before.
And I feel this is the beginning, not the end. Inner turbulences dictated the way you and I interacted. I can see it in your eyes, you saw more than I could ever imagine. Your scent tickles my nostrils, my lipstick still coats your most intimate place. Take your memories and pin them to the back of your eyes. I will bleed you out of my body. Flow out. Be free. Let our past fly out of our minds.