Hello darkness,

can you tell? I was not comforted and covered in your opaque veil; you didn’t lull me into a dreamless sleep. One hour is not enough to recover, and yet I had the best day of my week so far. Did well at work, did well in my private life too.

But now I am tired, and my mind plays tricks on me. Is this real or just a dream? What does it all mean? But I am too tired to overthink, to happy to make my ship sink.

Unusual me… People prefer me to be brooding and dark, but the future holds bright promises that I intend to meet. Women in need.

Manic phase? you ask, and I say no. Just too happy to sleep the night away, too preoccupied to waste my time on dreams.

Hello darkness, claim me now. My eyes hurt, and my mind is tired. My head is pounding, but my heart is racing toward happiness.

Who would have known, and who would have guessed?

*Life is good, and I am glad that I stayed alive to experience these unique feelings.

*my best friend sent a book to me about mindfulness. 💜 There are valuable lessons to learn.

*Super awesome people and specific plans are coming together

*I did not listen to Anathema today, at all. Not even a song. And that realisation felt weird.

*I’ve sent two applications for a new job yesterday and sent another one today. I am passionate about my work, but I have no intention to stay at my current workplace for longer than necessary.

*considerate people who treat me with respect – why does that feel so new?

Everything will be okay.

It was a lifetime ago…

In 1996, I saw a boy for the first time. I had an immediate crush on him. A crush that lasted for years. My knees shook when I saw him, my mouth couldn’t speak. My schoolbooks were filled with doodles – hearts that framed his name. I noticed every little change in him and was jealous when he had a girlfriend. I wanted to make him jealous by kissing other boys. But between 1996 and 1999, we only spoke two sentences. I had pictures of him, his home address, and phone number; I knew the name of his sister and the name of his best friend. I knew his schedules… I was obsessed. And then, I forgot about Paulo. He became a distant memory, a name, and a fond smile, but nothing more. Today, Facebook sent me down memory lane by suggesting him as a friend.

I took a look at his profile, but it is as secretive as mine. But it was unmistakably him on the profile picture. I would never send a friend request to that man, but the memory was nice.

He is still good looking – better than I thought he would look by now. I almost took a screenshot of his picture to show my sister… But then I thought better of it. It would be very creepy to do so.

I’ll let him live his life, and I will continue to live mine. But I won’t deny it; it was pleasant – this run in with the past.

Say that you love me.

When I was a child, I was told that I am not worth the breathing air that keeps filling my lungs. When I was a teenager, I was told that I am a waste of skin. When I was an adult, I was told that I was selfish.

Why? Because I am my father’s child, a father who left his sick wife to fight for a better life for himself. Because I defended myself, and because I wanted to build a life for myself without having to care for anyone else.

The hostility I experienced as a child and young adult still weigh heavily on me. I was neglected and abandoned; at the same time, I was emotionally blackmailed into doing things I didn’t want to do for a sliver of affection. Everything I ever did was negatively criticized and belittled.

It turned me into a starving adult—a doubting person. And I don’t trust. I don’t trust that love is free, that people like me just for me. I wasn’t taught that I don’t need to bend backwards to be liked. And I also wasn’t taught that it is okay not to be liked.

The better part of my adult life, I was a people pleaser. I said yes when I wanted to say no. I did things I didn’t want to do, and I never had the guts to stand up for myself.

It took a lot of work, and I am still not there every day of the week, but I am learning to say no and accept that some people will not like it. I am learning to like myself (my needs, and wants, and wishes) first – even if that means that others need to wait. And I am learning that I have to stand up for myself because no one else ever will…

Am I loveable? Yes I am.

Am I beautiful? I have my moments – even being chubby and overweight.

I am unique – everyone is. I am me.

The older I get (and I am only thirty-seven), the easier it is to say ‘fuck them all’ I am living my own life, the way I want to live it. But… It is hard for someone who is riddled with self-doubt and low self-esteem.

Last night, I was looking at the fading self-harm scars on my arm. I am not sure if they are apparent and visible for people or if I see them because I know they are there. Feeling them with the fingertips of my right hand, I remembered reasons, moods, and triggers. And I wanted to hug the young woman who never learned how to deal with emotional pain. I want to tell her to be free and disregard others. I want to tell her to live her life, without fear of not being loved. Everything will be okay.

But… No matter how much I change and how much I open up I will always stay a guarded and abused child. I was spoiled for anyone trying to love me…

Dear not-diary

I haven’t slept a lot these last nights, and I don’t mind much because I had very interesting and stimulating conversations while being awake. I enjoyed the rarity and the novelty of meeting a soul who shares opinions and who is able to share thoughts in an eloquent manner.

But, this morning, I am tired, and I feel my mood shifting. It’s okay, though; it is part of me and who I am. Also, it is only 5:30…

Have a great day & night

xx

Sunday Scribblings #16 mountains

We are running and running, hiding in the mountains,

I hear myself breathing your name

A sound barely above a whisper.

Far away from the reality that will crush us,

We are giving in to our secret desires.

The flowers you brought to romance me

Are scattered all over the floor, damaged by our hungry passion.

And I moan your name,

It rolls heavily off my tongue.

Our lust reverberates from these walls,

It is seeping into the floors; invisible to the blind.

And I scream your name in ecstatic bliss,

Flying high, then crashing down in waves of emotions.

The night is falling outside, stars shining bright.

I sign my name across your heart;

It will be protected by the ghosts of the mountains.

###

Written for Aaron’s Sunday Scribbling. Take a look at his blog, or consider using the prompts that are published each Wednesday to write, too. Prose, fiction, poetry, non-fiction, essays… everything is allowed.

I write poetry. Am I a poet? I don’t know. I am not in touch with many other poets. I wonder though… I often write a poem, and I don’t understand it myself. I write the words that must be written, but not every poem makes sense until someone else reads and interprets it. Does that make sense? I don’t know. Maybe it makes me a lesser writer for admitting this. There are few things in life I am passionate about. I am passionate about this blog, my writing (even if I don’t always understand its meaning myself), my kids, my job, music…

Today was a…

… good day.

Lots of love and lots of laughter.

Cyndi Lauper – when you were mine

From the album “she’s so unusual”. The album was released the year I was born. (1983)

Remember… I released three books. You can get them on Amazon or here on this site.

*Unquiet Minds

*Drowning in a Sea of Voices

*Heart of Stone

All written by Catherine Tricarico.

Thank you for your love and support.

Cathy