mind’s vomit

It’s too easy for me to cling to people who make me happy. This also makes it easy for me to doubt every little thing they do or don’t do, when I am overly tired or not in a good mood. (Like today.) Questions like: why? How? arise and there is no answer. Simply because some things happen without a reason. And that is perfectly fine or it should be. That, of course, clashes with my mantra of “everything happens for a reason”. It’s self-sabotaging and I know it. Logically, I know it. But I can’t prevent it. I can’t stop it from happening.

Is it a trust issue? Or is it a self-confidence issue? A mix of both? There are rare moments when I can see myself through the eyes of an other. During those moments I see a different person. Someone loveable.

I am a simple woman. Make me laugh and tell me how awesome I am and you will have a piece of my heart. But only if it happened at the right moment. The right moment being when I am in a free and serene headspace.

Yes, I think too much for my own good. And I doubt everything nice that happens to me, because in my life, happiness always came at a price. I am scared that my happiness is fake, and that if the people inspiring it are seeing me for who I am, they will turn their backs on me and take the happiness with them when they are leaving. Please don’t leave.

After all, I am leading a good life. Not always conventional, but a good life nonetheless. And I am not scared to ruin my own life; I am scared to make other people’s life a burden – as long as I am a daily part of it. I am demanding. Often, I am not afraid to ask for the things that fulfill my demands.

All in all, I am a pretty amazing woman. I am humourous, sensual, (I like to think that I am) intelligent enough to hold a conversation. I am kind and grateful, and trying to please those around me (without neglecting my own self). But I am also clingy and possessive and I don’t trust easily. I am not jealous. But I don’t deserve love, and I wonder why someone would spend time with me. It’s deeply rooted in my childhood. Things were broken inside of me and they cannot be fixed. Those damages overshadow the logical and they ruin everything good.

I am tired today. I couldn’t sleep. And these thoughts needed an outlet. I am unapologetic. And I know that I am overwhelming – in a bad way. But I am also honest about who I am and how I feel. No one is forced to read my words. But if you did read this far, I thank you. Some call this writing stream of consciousness. Today I call it my mind’s vomit.

Have a great day. Thank you for your eyes and ears.

xx

memory

I just had to see a doctor with my kid. We went to the ER’s pediatrician because the one we usually see is not in. Either way…

When we drove home Elton John’s Tiny Dancer was on the radio. (I love that song) In this song is this line

Hold me closer tiny dancer
Count the headlights on the highway

And a picture of me in my dad’s s red Volvo came up in my mind. When I was a young kid, my dad would pick us (me and my sister) up on Sundays so that we could spend a little time together. He didn’t come every Sunday, but that is another story.

I remember sitting in the back of the car whenever he drove us home at night, and counting the headlights that weren’t working. I spent 45minutes looking out the windows counting. It comforted me.

I still count the headlights occasionally.

xx

Conversation

Mom’s making pizza dough and rolling it out, throwing flour and all.

Girl one: what are you doing?

Mom: vegan steak

Girl one: okay

Girl one leaves the kitchen in search for girl two and boy.

Girl one, girl two, and boy are called for dinner 15 minutes later.

Girl two: what’s for dinner?

Girl one: vegan steak

Girl two: but that’s without meat and it smells like pizza

Girl one: mom said vegan steak

Girl two rolls her eyes and looks through the window of the oven

Girl two (happy voice): mom made pizza

Boy: our family is crazy. Mom I like it when you are crazy

Mom laughing, slicing pizza, and singing along to a song on the radio.

*Just the daily random madness at my house

Green

Green is the colour I associate with you

When I dream of you, you are bathed in a green hue

Green is the colour I feel when I think of you.

The first time I talked to you, you asked me to relax and listen to your voice. Three years later, and I can still remember it vividly. I was cuddled in my purple blanket, wearing nothing but a nightgown. I held the phone to my ear, and my eyes were closed. A sudden indescribable heat engulfed me and it was as if you were next to me, close to me in my room. I knew it couldn’t be, but you knew what I was wearing and you guessed my most intimate fantasies. I felt your presence, and your aura, it was green. It was soothing and so vibrant. I had never experienced anything quite like it. That heat. That colour. That moment. It was perfect bliss. But it didn’t last. And I was never able to recreate it. Until tonight. I was in that state between being awake and being asleep. It has been a while since you were in my dreams (and since you were on my mind like this). Tonight you were. You were standing in front of me, and I felt that familiar heat and I saw the familiar colour green. It was like a veil covering my dream. But the image of you slipped through my fingers. You faded. I tried to hold on, but I was too weak. I woke up (or came to) with a beating heart. And a longing to hear your voice calling me your Sweetie again. Overwhelmed, I couldn’t find sleep again. Did we connect tonight without either of us knowing about it?

Green is the colour of my dreams

Uninvited, you found your way under my sheets

Green is the colour that I see when your soul speaks to me

Moving. Paralyzed.

Sitting here wasting the moment. Incense stick burning. Calming? Not so much. Just burning. A movie is playing. Flickering on the screen. Not important enough to keep my focus. A drink on the table. I won’t touch it. It doesn’t feel right. Too many emotions happened yesterday. I scared myself yesterday. My behaviour scared me. It never happened like that before. I lost control. But have I really lost control? I don’t know how to get back. One breath after the other. One step in front of the other. Emotionless. Until I am eaten by all these emotions. And nothing is alright. Yet everything is alright. I should not complain. And I am not. I am sitting in silence. Enduring the torture I bestow on myself. Silently.

I am supposed to be supporting a colleague from work tonight. She is acting in a play. Something small. But important for her. The team was supposed to go. Some of the girls bailed. Until tonight I was sure I would go. But the day was long. The day was hard. And I couldn’t go. I couldn’t join them. I couldn’t face a crowd of people tonight. And so, for the first time, I told my colleagues why I couldn’t go. That I need time for myself. And I know them enough to know that they will be speaking about me – gossiping. I am afraid to go back to work on Monday. They will look at me with different eyes. They will be nice and kind and empathetic. But that is not what I need. I need them to be the way they always are. I get stuff done at work. I am a doer. And I am afraid that they won’t let me do things anymore.

I did not hurt myself yesterday. I dropped hot grease on the floor. And I couldn’t clean it up. Such a stupid thing. But it made me cry. I failed. I began shaking and hyperventilating. I panicked. Anxiety kicking in. Over some god damn grease I couldn’t clean away. I tried and I tried. Until I was too agitated and gave up. I sat and breathed and breathed. And I grew tired. So tired. And empty. I finally cleaned the mess I made. Easily, i might add. And after that, I felt as if I had changed. That emptiness. It devoured me. So much so that I tried to get in touch with someone from the past. They didn’t react to my message. And maybe that’s good. Maybe it is better that way.

Stuck. Can’t move. Paralysed. It won’t stop by itself. And I don’t have any fight in me anymore.

Some days are so easy to just go with the flow. I don’t write about those days. They are plenty too. Some days are just a constant struggle.

I didn’t have a good start this year. Three months in. Enough time to go to change things. Make it better. Why can’t it be easier? What’s wrong with me? Why am I this consumed by toxic thoughts and feelings?

It began in 2015… I don’t regret it. And am not sure if I would change many things since then. The best things happened. The highest highs. But also the lowest lows. And if the people who inspired the highs where still there during the lows, I am sure it would be easier. But they are gone. Out of reach.

So many lonely moments and I am rarely alone. So much emptiness and so many overflowing emotions. So lost. So there. Too many contradictions, but they all make sense. To me.

And when I can’t find my path in the dark… I will keep moving.

It’s going to be okay

Life’s a bitch, but it’s going to be okay.

My daughter had a nightmare about me dying. I tried to comfort her as best as I could, but there was a thought I couldn’t shake. I will die. Some day I will. And I cannot change it. And when she was finally asleep again, i felt guilty. So many times i thought about dying. I thought about ending my life. No – I will not kill myself, no need to worry. But I have these thoughts and I am aware that those are thoughts normal people don’t have. I cannot save my children from all the hurt that the world will inflict on them. It’s impossible. But I can try and not add to it. It pains me when my seven year old is bullied. It hurts that she didn’t want to tell me because she didn’t want to make me sad. It pains me when she tells me that she will come to me with everything that bothers her but that I can also come to her with the things that bother me.
Parenting is the best thing I do. It’s one of the few things I am sure of. But there is so much wrong with me that I worry that I will never be the parent they need or deserve. The world is crazy. And I am too.
And I am scared to share. I used to share a lot. But back then, people from my day to day life didn’t read anything I shared. And now I allowed some people in. And I feel ashamed and frightened to share who I really am. I hate this. And I want to scream “help”, but I can’t, and to be fair, I wouldn’t listen to anyone anyway. I need a hug from someone who isn’t a child. Who knew that being married also meant being lonely and longing for human connection.

It’s the little things

  • Crying during a movie
  • A song that turns back time and carries you to one specific moment
  • A book you can’t set down
  • Tea that has the right temperature
  • The sun shining through trees
  • A formation of clouds
  • A rainbow
  • Thunder and lightning
  • A right pressure on the spot where your back hurts most
  • A child saying your name
  • A child giving you a hug
  • Birthday wishes from people you thought had forgotten about you
  • An evening with friends
  • Hugs (but hugs aren’t a little thing)
  • A song on the radio that you like
  • Your child singing along to your favourite song
  • An entire paragraph that was written without a typo
  • Writing the first words after having felt uninspired for a long time
  • Not setting the alarm
  • Empty plates
  • A decent parking spot
  • One last chewing gum when you thought there weren’t any left
  • A smile from a stranger
  • Giving a busker some money and the gratitude in their eyes when you offer to buy them something warm to drink
  • Old pictures
  • New songs
  • The smell of my pillow
  • Clothes that are still warm from the tumble dryer
  • Smooth skin
  • Even numbers (grocery shopping, gas pump)
  • The smell of my favourite perfume
  • When the hurt goes away
  • Being aware of life’s beauty
  • Not forgetting life’s challenges
  • Sleep
  • Lists
  • Realising that many little things make some big things
  • A kiss
  • A good dream
  • Serenity
  • Thinking without succumbing to melancholy
  • An old voice message that still makes you smile
  • A memory
  • Knowing that everything will be alright (even if it doesn’t look that way)
  • Being present (are you there?)
  • The clock that says 23:09 or 08:02
  • Sunrise
  • Not feeling regrets
  • Remembering a friend who has passed away
  • Thinking of people who changed our lives (I am thinking about you daily lately – are you there?)
  • Notifications
  • Stars
  • I am what I am
  • The wind in my hair
  • The soundtrack of my life
  • The perfect shade of your favourite colour (raspberry or aubergine)
  • A picture that touches you
  • A song that pulls at all the right strings
  • Being understood without need to explain everything in detail
  • A life in pictures that were never taken
  • Everything and more

random thought

I am blind. I am too blind to see the struggle of others. Well… Not entirely. I see their battles, but I don’t see the severity of them. If I was a little less self-centred, I would see more of the world around me. As it is, I realized a year too late how bad a friend was really doing. I was too focused on myself and on the way I expected him to pull me out of the dark. But he was in even deeper than me and I didn’t see it.

Out of the dark into the dark.

I didn’t realize how much he was struggling. I had just scratched the surface when he pulled away. He had shared the bare minimum. I knew he was addicted to at least two things. I knew he was really not well. But I didn’t fight to be in his life when he pushed me out with all his might. Maybe our relationship was caustic from the beginning.

Two fragile minds becoming even more fragile because of what we shared.

I wish it had been different. Instead of breaking him even more, I could have helped him heal. But our relationship was based on a toxic behaviour. A pattern that repeated itself again and again. A circle. Of course there is more than this wrong pattern. There is more to the person I am and there is more to the person he is. But, we didn’t stand a chance. Our minds and our mental illnesses ruined every chance of a friendship. Quite sad, actually. But not irrevocably.

Not irrevocably.

Ones views change over time… Mine too.

Time heals our wounds

One day you will wake up and a wound that has always itched and that has always hurt – even if it was in a dull, almost imperceptible way, will have healed.

You will be surprised and it will be scary at first. You will try to get that feeling back – after all, it has been a part of you and your being for such a long time. But, let it go. You don’t need it anymore. And the hollow it left will be filled with something new. Something good.

This comes from a person who believed that wounds can be concealed but never healed. I woke up with a weight lifted off me. And I had the immediate desire to write it down. Because, if the hurt comes back (and it will be back full force), then I will have this to remind me that there are days when everything that weighs me down doesn’t seem to be as important anymore.

I’ll leave you on this rather content and serene note. I am going to make the beds now, then I’ll put my golden shoes on and spend my day at IKEA. (For me, IKEA is more stressful than working a double shift at the nursery).

Cathy