Dear Stranger: 15 things I love about you

Lately, you’ve been on my mind day and night, every waking hour and every sleeping moment too. I think it happened. It finally happened. And I am sorry. I apologise.

There are too many reasons for me to love you.

  • I care and never want to see you hurt
  • I want to protect you and keep you out of harm’s way
  • You act strong for everyone else, but I’ve seen you, and I understand
  • I like you; you are my person
  • We have a past, a present, and a future
  • Your presence in my life helps me grow
  • You make me smile, even more so when you realise what I am made of
  • When I hear your voice, there are butterflies in my belly
  • I trust you, so much so that your is the only number that can call me at any time of the day and night
  • I see the potential in you, the creativity that knows no limits
  • I cannot fix you because you are not broken, but I can love you
  • I get jealous when you interact with other women
  • I cannot think of anything that I detest in you; nothing appalls me, nothing makes me want to abandon you
  • You deserve to be loved by me
  • I deserved to be loved by you.

Or as Martin L Gore wrote and sang:

Depeche Mode – somebody

Goodnight, dear Stranger,

Your Sweetie

On repeat

I listen to a lot of Spotify and they create playlists with songs that are on repeat. Here is the most recent list. Please, enjoy.

Breathe with me 2

A few days ago, I shared a breathing meditation. I recorded it for you, with my most calm and relaxed voice. I was convinced it was published. It wasn’t. I probably saved it wrong or got distracted.

The above file is me (my voice), talking for three and a half minutes.

The breathing technique is the one I use when I am anxious or nervous, or agitated. For me, it works.

Have a nice day. xx

It goes both ways

This thoughts is still valid 3 years later. And my mentor, Robert, who is not with us anymore, commented on this post, too. What do you think?

Catherine Micqu

I am a firm believer of “everything happens for a reason” and ” people walk parts of your journey with you for a reason”. Until now, I only applied it to me. This person entered my life for a reason, and this person left for a reason. The reasons (phew… Lots of reason here), the reasons aren’t always understandable at first. Most often, we only understand the lesson we learned in hindsight. We are learning from the memories and experiences we made.

I recently understood that this works both ways.

I struggled with the fact that a person is not an active part of my life anymore. It was (and partly it still is) hurting my most sensitive feelings. And I miss him. But the truth is, I don’t miss him. I miss the idea of him. I miss the knowledge that he was just a swipe on the screen…

View original post 160 more words

musing

They say, you need to speak up and voice your thoughts to be heard. But I think, you also need someone who listens and understands what you are saying.

The loudest scream stays silent if no one hears it.

untitled_20210531

handwritten poetry

Showered with sadness

One moment, I was happily dancing in the rain,

The next I was crying, cowering in my shower’s corner.

The manic moments got fewer while the depressive episodes grew longer every time. Rationally, I knew that it was all in my head. I knew that I was allowed to live and to love and to accept affection too. But during the depressive moments, I couldn’t remember those things; I couldn’t hear them. The voices in my head telling me that I am a waste of space or that I don’t matter, they were louder than any reason or sense. And they hurt. So much. Every time a little more. I tried to silence them with music. I tried to mum them with positive thoughts. I even tried to cut them out of my skin and singing them to sleep with alcohol and pills. Nothing worked.

And now I sat here in the shower hiding in the corner, naked and shivering. 

These fragile and frail moments were my secret. But I am not sure how well I hid it.

I read in a book that we need to talk and speak up to remind our minds that we are real and alive. I was thinking about that under the cold shower spray. Sobbing, I bit the skin on my arm. The gesture was not to hurt me, but to feel and root my overwhelmed self. I do that too during sex, but that’s more to avoid making too much noise. That’s a different subject. 

I watched the water run down my legs in rivulets, little rivers of sorrow. It was a mix of the shower spray, my tears, and, let’s face it, snot was in the mix too. But I was too far gone to care.  I tried remembering what had triggered this explosion of emotions, but I couldn’t remember. And it agitated me even more. I forgot so much. Was I too focussed on myself, or not enough? I was just trying to stay alive! The lack of understanding, of meaning, of connection, mixed with insomnia, abject loneliness, and solitude – it was killing me. Or maybe, maybe I was killing myself. Self-loathing, self-destructive, absent from my self.

The water kept caressing the goosebumps all over my body. I hugged myself tighter and bit my skin harder. I looked up to the ceiling. And when I looked down at my knees again, I felt empty. As if this was not me anymore. As if someone had found a switch to turn my emotions off. My sobbing stopped. I got up and turned to water off. Empty. Just going through the motions. As if it was not me. The lights were still on, but no one was at home anymore. I was a robot. A puppet on my mind’s strings. I grew calm but exhausted. Tired. So so tired.

I grabbed my towel and dried off without much care. Heading to my bedroom, I sat down on the mattress, naked as I was; grabbed my pillow – the one I cuddle at night, and rolled myself into a position that made me as small as possible. Fetal position.

I remember thinking that I was not thinking anymore. And then I drifted off.

In the middle of the night, I woke up because I was trembling and felt cold. I covered myself with the sheets and fell into a dreamless slumber. The next time I woke up, it saw the morning light illuminating my bedroom. I felt rested but hungover from the heavy emotions I had felt the night before. I had the image in my head of what a pitiful sight I had been in the shower. Everything else was still a bit foggy.

But as I said, these moments of vulnerability and of my fragile mind being on full display are my secrets. Just mine. No one will ever know the truth.

There was something on my arm; a bruise was forming, the skin was changing colours, reminding me of what I had done.

In sane moments, I wonder why I can’t be normal. Wouldn’t it be easier to be detached from myself more often? Who knows? Who cares? In the end, it doesn’t matter. 

We live. We die. And everything we feel in between is not real for anyone but us.

(718 words/20minutes)

Breathe with me

Go to a private room.

Close the blinds.

It doesn’t have to be dark.

Just private.

Sit down on the floor.

Get comfortable.

Use pillows if necessary.

Back straight!

Breathe out through your mouth.

Feel yourself. Feel your body.

Feel your heartbeat.

We will get through this.

Now

Close your eyes.

Your are safe.

Take a deep breath.

Release it with a sigh.

Make a sound, if it feels natural.

Let it flow.

Shake your arms and hands.

Feel your body again.

Are you comfortable?

Try getting comfortable.

Push every invading thought away.

Nothing matters.

Just you.

My voice.

And your breathing.

Are your eyes still closed?

Relax!

Don’t question this.

Follow my lead.

Take a deep breath.

In through your nose.

Feel your chest expand.

Hold your breath.

In your head, count to 7.

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

Now release your breath through your mouth.

Eyes closed.

That was really good.

Let’s repeat this!

Take a deep breath.

In through your nose.

Feel your body relax while you hold your breath.

Silently count to 7.

Release your breathe through your mouth.

How does it feel?

Don’t overthink!

Breathe!

One last time. Let’s breathe together.

Take a deep breath through your nose.

Hold it.

Count to 7.

Release your breath through your mouth.

Good. Well done.

Stay like this for a moment.

Feel yourself.

If you need to cry – do it.

Don’t be afraid. Don’t be ashamed.

Let everything happen that needs to happen.

Now, open your eyes.

Look around the room.

Get re-acquainted with the here and now.

Feel your body.

Shake your arms and legs.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I love you. You are not alone. You are safe.

Let me overthink this…

I am reading Jordan B Peterson’s second book “Beyond Order”. His first book was a recommendation years ago, but I couldn’t get through the read. Now, the new one is much easier to read (keeping in mind that I am not a native English speaker).

Moments ago, I read more about the author, finding out about his views on LGBTQ and parenting, and I have to say, I disagree with most he says. At the same time, the things he says about mental health resonate with me, a lot.

It feels like a dilemma.

Now I wonder, would I have even considered reading Peterson if I had known about these politics? I admit, I don’t deal with those things at all. I mean, I am not interested in those things too much. Usually.

I am member of a Discord channel, and I shared that I read that book. And a member left over this. There was no drama, no discussions that turned vile or anything. But that guy chose to leave, saying that he couldn’t be part of a place where politics and views like that would be appreciated. (And that statement made me dig more into Peterson)

And of course, I am overthinking now. And I am very sorry that a good person left a safe place because of a book I am reading.

So yeah… Let me overthink this…

Monochrome colours

Old poetry

Flash #8

And then she said: STOP. She screamed the word for the world to hear. STOP!! And she stopped.

💜❤💙💚💛🧡💜❤💙💚💛🧡💜❤

Silent Gold

Flash #7

Sometimes, it is about the small victories and successes. For people with mental health issues, seeing these successes is not easy. And I include myself there.

I once read that we should make our beds in the morning. It sets the pace for the day; a day that starts with a small success and a small accomplishment.

Counting those small successes (I repeat myself) is hard. Because we are not wired to see them as such. We never learned that taking a shower when we don’t feel like it is success. An accomplishment has to be something big, or it was not worth it at all.

Ah… It’s easy for me to say those things, right? But let me tell you one thing: I only made my bed once this year. Yeah, this year. I will make an effort to look on the bright side more often.

❤💜💙💚💛🧡❤💜💙💚💛🧡❤💜