Paperback

If you are like me and prefer to have the real feel of a book, the smell, the way the pages feel under your fingers, then you might like to know that Writing Notes is available as a paperback book on Amazon.

Writing Notes – Paperback

This is the American link, but it is available Worldwide. It went live this morning, and to be honest, I don’t have my own copy yet… But don’t hesitate to get yours. Also… I know the writer, if you prefer to order a signed version. It will take a while longer to get to you, but it will be unique. Don’t hesitate to get in touch and we will figure it out together.

Much love to you,

Cathy

For You.

And as my fingers tire from the constant typing, my thoughts drift to a safe place. The place that is inhabited inside of me, by you. I never hide for you, I forgot how to. It is scary to be vulnerable for someone new. But also, it is not, because this is you. There is no need to make this into something it is not, but I love you. And the longer I think about you, to more I realize that it is true.

More thoughts about (self-publishing)

I have all these thoughts in my head that want out right away…

Self-Publishing on paperback is such a pain in my (extremely sexy) posterior. (Sex sells, right!?) I can remember now why I didn’t bother with my first attempts… But the prospect of holding a real book made of real paper in my hands, with my words inside and outside, with my handwriting on the cover… It makes up for the hassle. It really does. In about 72 hours my book will be available for your Kindle and next week it will be on Amazon to buy as a paperback.

Exciting times. Even more so when I think back to last week. Last week, I didn’t even think about publishing.

Once again, go buy or download this amazing book called “Writing Notes”. https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/844360

One of the first reactions: “I love this. It touches the heart”

Cathy

revisions

My book needed some revisions. I did that and took the opportunity to add a couple of pages to it. So… if you downloaded the sample, that changed. If you downloaded the book… it changed. If you bought the book, get in touch and I will get you a free download coupon.

Writing Notes on Smashwords
With the revisions made, the book will soon be available on amazon and other online retailers. Apparently, the formatting was botched…

Thank you so much for your support.

and remember to get in touch for a free download.

Cathy

Thank you stranger

Thank you stranger for buying the first copy of Writing Notes off Smashwords. Soon, Writing Notes will be available in different other online stores. I will keep you updated about that.

Thank you all for your support. Often, I don’t feel good enough for this. But I am.

Also… Like a very special friend pointed out, I am a professional writer now, thanks to being paid. Exciting times.

News

So… Today I did something quite impulsive… I published a book. It is pay what you want and if you are a regular reader you might have seen this or that entry before. But… I would love it if you took a look. The book is pay what you want. If you can, give a little change, if you don’t, please just share the book with your friends.

I am excited and freaking out at the same time.

Here are the links.

Catherine Micqu’s Smashwords Author Profile: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/micqu

Writing Notes:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/844360

Cathy

PS: it’s National Day in Luxembourg. We are celebrating our Grand-Duke’s birthday.

The Road (throwback poetry)

I’ve been on this road for many years
Trying to forget all those tears.
And in the deepest low
Behind the darkest glow,
Hope was always hiding
A light was always shining.

I’ve been on this road, walking endless miles
Ignoring the past’s echoes and its cries.
And as I stopped and sat down
It took me a moment to understand that there were new friends in town.
My restless travels and my frantic searching were in vain
This was where I wanted to be stayin’.

I’ve been down that road so many times
Creating stories and words in my minds.
And in the shining sun
When I felt like I needed to run,
I found solace in my broken thoughts,
Tying together their fraying knots.

But this is not the end of the road,
This traveler’s pace has just been slowed.
Soaking in the beautiful landscape
Even the one that was manmade.
Just resting my weary eyes
And listening to the path the soul takes when it flies…

voices

It’s cold and I wrap my cardigan closer around my shivering form. Still, I don’t want to turn around and walk back home. I enjoy the peaceful quiet and loneliness that surrounds me. The wind blows, almost cutting my skin. I feel the cold sand sticking to the soles of my bare feet.

Nobody is at the beach. The sky looks grey, almost black and I know, that in a few minutes, it will open up and soak me in cold rain. I stop and turn to look out over the vast ocean. The waves are nothing more than white lines that crash eventually. The ocean looks threateningly big and violent, and once again, I feel small. Very small. Insignificant. Around me, everything seem to be big and meaningful. Me, I am a grain of sand. Not important at all. The realization hits me hard, making my eyes sting with unshed tears. I pretend, that it is the chilly air, but I know that I am lying to myself. It is not the first time that I am doing this.

He is back again. His voice in my head is back. Torturing me. Making my life hell.

There are days, when everything seems pointless to me. Every battle is lost, and I feel obsolete.

The lines between reality and the torment in my head blur, and I wonder how it would feel to drown. Not that I have any intention to walk towards the freezing swallowing ocean, but I wonder.

There are days, when I long to feel the serenity some people find at the beach. Finding inner peace and being able to keep that feeling inside, and letting go of everything else seems easy for many people. But not me. No, not for me. Nothing else matters anymore.

There are days, when it would be so much easier to simply give up. Listening to the voices in my head, obeying them, and fading away from the face of earth. Who would care anyway?

I shake my head, trying to make these thoughts stop from building toxic roots in my mind. Getting rid of that awful voice that is trying to pull me under proves to be impossible. I don’t want this. But it is stronger than me. He is stronger. A hole I fall in from time to time, orchestrated by his words. Manipulating me like a puppet on a string. Sometimes, it is so deep that there is almost no way to get out of the dark and lonely place again. Sometimes it’s not deep at all and the right scent, the right words, and the right notes can make me see the light again.

I struggle. An inner war is raging inside of me, when all I want to do is to strive for inner peace. It looks so easy for some. For me it’s a constant struggle.

The rain starts to fall. In a matter of minutes, I am soaked to the bone and frozen to the core of myself. I know, that I should move and go home. I know that I should put on my socks and shoes. But I can’t. I cannot move. Paralyzed. Something is holding me back. My hands fall down at my sides and I feel my shoulders slump. My head bends down and I fall down to my knees. My soaked cardigan is heavy on my skin. Pulling me down with an invisible, yet invincible weight on my shoulders. I bury my face in my hands. Accepting my defeat. Shivering in the cold, with my long wet hair pasted to my face. I cannot go on. I cannot keep fighting myself. I have to give in. I cave.

I give up.

For the first time in a long while, I am willing to give up and give in.

“Take me with you!” I yell into the cold and empty space. It is the last surge of energy before my inner self combusts. My heart burns with the emptiness inside. Ashes, are all that will be left within when all this is done.

I cower on the beach. Lonely and alone. Painfully aware of all of my flaws. Painfully aware, of the hole that is swallowing me. Too tired to fight. And why should I fight anyway? He doesn’t let me fight.

What is there left fighting for anyway?

This place holds no shelter for me anymore. I want to fade away and vanish. Too jaded to go on. Too hollow.

It’s like I am in a trance.

I hear a noise and startle. Thunder and lightening are keeping me company. I wake up from my trance, and see where I am; realize what I am doing. I’m trembling from the cold, and from the shock of my train of thoughts. A heavy smile creeps up on my face. She is here to save me.

It’s always like that.

Two personalities are residing inside of me. Fighting to get the reigns over me. One of them is overly optimistic, always positive and supportive. Always honest and chatty. The other one is a suicidal pessimist. One day, he is going to win. One day, she will not be there and win the internal battle at the last minute. I know it. It scares me. I know that he is stronger.

I get up and the sky clears up too. No more rain. The wind calms down. I am dripping wet. Sand is sticking to my clothes. But I survived the storm.

Finally, I move. I move towards home. Wherever that is.

“Home is were you hang yourself…

…some pictures on the wall”

I enter my home. It’s empty. Almost no furniture. No voices. Nothing. I can’t stand the quiet and so, my first move is to turn on the music. Loud. To drown out the last of his thoughts. The hardwood floor is wet from my clothes and I shed them. Struggling to get the wet cloths from my freezing skin.

I take a shower to wash away the morning and the cold. But his voice is persisting today. He wants to see me perished.

In the back, I hear her voice. She’s screaming loudly.

“This too shall pass.” I nod my head. She is right. Maybe. I sigh into the foggy steamed bathroom mirror. It’s going to be a long week. It’s going to be a daily fight. I wish I could hibernate. Let them fight it out and whoever wins can take over my body. Whoever wins gets to do whatever they want with me.

“Fight. You’re strong. Don’t let that bastard get to you.” Some days, I am a fighter.

“Give up. You can’t win anyway. I am stronger and you know it.” Some days, I submit and lose the battle in my head.

***
(Originally written in May 2014, slightly edited today.)

No words to say

They don’t see what I can’t tell, they can’t understand that I am not well.

Everything is perfectly fine, apart from me and my mind.

Another morning filled with silent tears, this is the worst in years.

I can’t go on and I can’t give up, but I need to make this stop.

It’s crippling me, breaking me into pieces; the overwhelmed feeling increases.

I know they love me, they see me, but even their love can’t free me.

How can they see what I don’t tell, and that I am living in my personal hell?

I dread the moment when i lose my strength and cave. Until now, I have been brave. For now, I safe. Please, keep me safe?

Dancing in the rain

I love dancing in the rain. Or just standing there and letting it soak my clothes until the raindrops run down my skin in rivulets. It makes me happy.

My children don’t understand it. My husband scolds me every time I let my head fall down in my neck and close my eyes, enjoying the clouds showering me. What’s not to love about the rain?

Also, rain is sensual as fuck.

This is where I have been dancing. 🙂

***

Not sorry about the cursing. It’s part of me.

Say something

If my sun isn’t rising, it is because the flames in my soul are burning my sins.

I dream awake and try to find answers that are tattooed under my skin.

And every time the rain hides my tears, there is an explosion within.

Without asking, you took myself away from me, and I don’t know where I’ve been.

Redeem my sins. Tattoo your love on my skin, and spark explosions within. Tell me where you’ve been. I am waiting for you to say somethin’.

Millions of thoughts, but I cannot put them in order.

And the birds are singing

And the sun is rising

And I am not asleep.

Two hours is not enough. Not after a day like yesterday, but it is exactly because of yesterday that I cannot sleep.

Sing me to sleep.

ramble_20180608

I spent more than 14 hours at work today. I was there at 7:30am and got home at around 10pm. From a professional point of view, my day was a success. I have been told many times that the kids love me – we had a party with the parents tonight, and had the opportunity to talk with many parents in a relaxed mood we had created at the nursery. I worked my ass off today, not sitting still and getting things done. (Even ripping my favourite jeans.) I was brave and smiled and made small-talk. A busy bee with a smile for every parent and every child.

The other part of me, the one I hid, was the part of me that was on the constant verge of crying. I wrote two posts this morning and was in a good mood, until suddenly I wasn’t anymore. And I don’t know what triggered it. I cried before I left the house this morning. And my mood did not improve. It was a challenge to be social today. But I think I did a good job hiding my inner turmoil.

I am tired. Not only from work, but from everything. I haven’t eaten properly in two weeks. I have some kind of stomach bug that won’t go away. I cannot eat any proper food without getting sick. It’s exhausting. I am living off soup and tea these days. It is annoying and I am constantly thinking of food. But I don’t dare eating out of fear to be sick again. It is a vicious circle. I don’t feel sick, but I can’t eat. (I lost 3kg… Lol… But as soon as I start eating again I will gain 6kg, lol)

I want to be a good person. I am a good person. But there is that voice in my head that keeps telling me that I am toxic. It tells me that I am a burden, and that it’s easier to ignore me than to be with me. And I hate that voice. I know it is wrong, but I cannot stop these thoughts. And because I am aware of this, it makes it even harder to believe that anyone should like me. Why should anyone like me?

Why should anyone read these posts? Why should anyone care about someone like me?

On a good day, I would say “because I am loveable. Because I am worth it.”

Today, I say “I don’t know. I can’t see a way out.”

Once again, I am writing impulsively. I cannot help it. It is who I am.

My thoughts run in circles. It could be so easy, but my damaged mind makes it so hard to be some times. And being is all there is.

Tell me to breath. Remind me to keep breathing.

underneath the surface of my skin (throwback poetry, June 3rd 2016)

Underneath the surface of my soul hides a raging silence. One that becomes louder with every scream. One that haunts me in my sleep.

Underneath the surface of my soul lie many hidden emotions. Those that are never far from being voiced. Those that bubble up until they become an explosion.

Underneath the surface of my soul lives a ghost. One that will never see light, yet never succumbs to darkness either.

Underneath the surface of my soul are rotting lost hopes. Those that make me have regrets. Those that pull me down and make me drown.

Underneath the surface of my soul a whisper is repeated. One that says ‘I’m still in love with you’. One that says ‘I’m still loving you’.

Underneath the surface of my soul are blooming fragile bonds. Those that will last forever, even when they are broken. Those that constrict my heart with their beautiful intensity.

Underneath the surface of my soul is a place for you. One that will always stay yours. One that will never fade – even when it is invisible.

Old but happy

I am 35. I feel old today. But I also feel young. I received an invite to a school reunion. I was 12 when I saw most of these people for the last time. Now I look at their pictures and some look old, and I look like me. Do I look old for them too? I don’t feel like 35. How is one supposed to feel at this or that age? I have no idea. But. And this is important. I am happy and I am very comfortable in my skin these days. A fact that is not always true. Right now it is. Don’t worry, I am not in a midlife crisis even though I am repeating my age. I just like the sound of it. 35.

The pic was taken today. I dressed up and straightened my hair for work this morning. I was filmed. Hey… I never said that I am not vain.

Enough space take with nonsense. I wouldn’t share the pic if I didn’t like it.

Cathy

Destination Unknown (repost from March 2014)

I am nervous. It isn’t only the flight that makes my pulse race, but it is the knowledge that in a few hours, I will be able to look into his eyes, to hear his real voice, to feel his arms around myself and to smell his scent. All for the first time.

This is not my typical self. I was never the adventurous type, I prefer to live my life as straight-forward and predictable as possible.

But then I met him. A lot of things are different with him. We met on the web. It was never really my world and meeting a man and falling in love? That was for fools only. He made the first step, chatting me up and at first it was only meant to be fun and distracting for me. Banter and flirting, where’s the harm in that? Slowly, though, his emails and the photos he sent me day after day, became the highlight of my mornings. And now I sit here. In a tin can that is about to fly me across the ocean and to him, and I just have a one-way ticket.

****

The plane starts to move and takes me out of my reveries. The flight will be long. There will be time to worry and to be happy and to be afraid too. For now, my hands are clammy as the trees become a blur, and I get pushed into my seat. Takeoff. Silent tears stream down my face. I am not able to stop them, and I am too panicked to make a sound. I look out of the window, grabbing the armrests until my knuckles become white, and I can only see the clear blue sky. I look past the row of other passengers and look out of the opposite window. I can only see green fields. My hands grip the armrest that separates me from the empty seat next to me tighter, and my fingers hurt, but I am not ready to let go of my support. It’s becoming my safety. And then, the plane seems to have reached its travel height. The tension slowly fades away from me, and I breathe, relieved. I am not afraid to fly, its the takeoff that makes me panic and with no one by my side to soothe or distract me, the fear and anxiety I experience in this situation is overwhelming. Once the plane is up in the air, everything is okay. I have to sit by the window, though. I need to see everything around me, the fake control calms me.

****

I am giving up my old life for him. I sold everything I couldn’t fit into a few bags, I gave up my job and my flat, only to fly into the unknown. A new continent, a different language, no job, no apartment and I have never even met the man in person. He is supposed to take me in and help me get my feet on the ground over there. What, if he doesn’t like me? What if we don’t get along? And what if he is a creep? Before I can rile myself up too badly, I feel my eyelids becoming heavy, and I slowly drift off into a dreamless sleep. At last, the Xanax my sister slipped me in my drink is kicking in.

Next thing I know is that a flight attendant wakes me up and asks me to fasten my seat belt. “We are going to land soon.” Did I actually sleep almost six hours? In a plane? Alone?

The plane lands effortlessly, and I breathe again. It feels like the first deep breath since I woke up this morning. The landing is never as hard for me as the takeoff, because of the pure knowledge that soon there will be solid ground underneath my feet again. I am so weird. But that makes me my loveable self.

People scramble their belongings together and make their ways to the exit, where a flight attendant waits and says goodbye to every single passenger. I like this. It’s nice. It’s normalcy. Polite too.

As soon as I enter the terminal, my heart begins to pound in my chest. The inevitable moment is close. I don’t have to wait long at the baggage claim. For once I wouldn’t have minded to wait, if only to stall and keep the inevitable from happening. I heave my bags on my luggage cart. I hate to steer those things because they never go in the direction I want them to go, but with a bit of effort, lots of strength and one or two choice words, I manage to push it to the exit. Ropes separate the newly arrived from the ones being there to pick them up. My heart beats so fast, it threatens to burst my ribcage. It’s an unpleasant feeling. I see people falling into each other’s arms, crying happy tears and clinging onto each other. Families, mothers, fathers, daughters, sons… Reunited. Different people who arrived at their destination. Not me. I am an alien.

The crowd slowly dissipates, and I am still looking for the one person who is set to pick me up. I’m beginning to fear that he isn’t here, but then, through a group of laughing teenagers, I see a man holding up a poster. SHELLY, it reads. That’s my nickname. It is him. I feel hot, and I smile. I don’t want to do it, but I can’t stop or hide it. It takes me a moment to get my legs moving. They are like lead and trembling as if I had never taken a step before.

At first sight and from the distance, he is even more gorgeous than he was in his pictures. I see him stretching and rising on his tiptoes. He is scanning the crowd with a frown. I can see the exact moment his eyes land on me, and he recognizes me. A bright smile erupts on his face, and I know it is matching my own.

Step by tiny step, we get closer to each other until we both stop in our tracks. Only three steps separate us, and I see his face becoming serious, the smile faded and he is worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. How do I approach him? Are there any rules for this? I am unsure what to do, my instinct tells me to run away from this weird situation, but my body doesn’t want to obey. And I don’t know where to hide anyway. Dreadful moments pass, and I wait. Frozen. Unable to act or react.

“Shelly,” he whispers almost inaudibly, because of the busy people hurrying to get to their planes and the ones hurrying to get home. I nod, not knowing what else to do.

The poster glides from his hands and slides to the floor while he takes another step towards me. Feet are walking over the white sheet of paper. I see it and think for a brief moment that it’s such a waste, then my thoughts are back in the now. The suspense and anticipation are killing me. My heart still races and if nothing happens now, the moment passes, and we will never get it back. And the something inside of me snaps. I can’t contain myself any longer and jump into his arms, laughing out loud. He catches me with ease. He is shorter than I had imagined him to be, but he is still a few inches taller than me. My body fits his perfectly. I bury my nose in his neck and smile when I notice his scent. It is an aphrodisiac. His arms come up and circled my waist almost lifting me off the floor, and I laugh happily. The sound is bubbling out of me. His arms feel like home, and I haven’t even heard him say more than a whisper.

My hands cup his cheeks, and I scan his face. I look into his eyes – beautiful light green eyes. I take a step back, not to walk away, but to get a proper look at him. His cheeks are stubbly, just how I love it, and his ginger hair is cut close to the head, but not too close. He is gorgeous. His lush lower lip begs to be kissed and again, it is me who takes the first step and I kiss him hesitantly. He kisses me back and pulls me closer to him. All of this is shallow, and I know it, it is appearances and superficialities, but I already know the person hiding inside.

Reluctantly, he lets go of me and now, he looks me up and down, making me slightly uncomfortable. Mere moments ago, I did the same to him, and I feel a little ashamed that I did. What does he see when he looks at me?

“Let’s go home,” he says smiling and with a grunt, he gets my luggage cart to move and pushes it towards to parking lot.

Time and time again, we look at each other, only to shyly look away again. We load my bags into his truck, and he comes around to open my door. His truck seems huge, but every car I see here is. I am not in Kansas – sorry, Europe – anymore.

Before I can climb into the massive vehicle, he holds me by the wrist and spins me around. I stumble into his arms, but again, he catches me with ease. He lowers his lips to mine and then, kisses me passionately. I’ve been kissed before – a lot, but I’ve never been kissed like this before. It takes my breath away and leaves a warm feeling inside. My heart skips a beat, and it is as though an electrical shock rushes through my entire body. I am aware of how silly it sounds, even more so because I used to make fun of people saying this. But wow… If I have had moments of doubt about my decision earlier, I am sure now, to be at the right place with the right person.

“I am glad you are here. Finally.” His voice is gentle, but deep and a little hoarse. I like it very much, and I wonder what it will sound like in the morning when he wakes up. It occurs to me that I will hear it soon enough, and it makes me smile again.

“You must be starving. Would you like to go out on a dinner date with me?” he asks formally. It takes me a while to find the right words and my voice, but I accept his invitation. Of course, I do. We seal the agreement to our first official date with a long kiss. A car honks, and we break apart, chuckling like teenagers. We drive off into the sunset. Destination unknown.

***
(Unedited… I will get to that later…)

Random_20180602

I write because I can and because I have to. It is my therapy. Often, I write impulsively, so that you only see a momentary glimpse into my internal landscapes. I am happy with the people who are currently in my life. I am worth way more than I allow myself to be and I am grateful that they see it too. They love every inch of me. They accept every part of baggage on my back and in my soul. And I love them just the way they are. Flaws and all. That is how it should be. That is what gives me the strength to let go of old weight on my shoulders. I am happy that I am still here… As I mentioned before, I don’t take rejection very well. And I take it even worse when it comes from someone I adore. It almost ended badly. But, I am still here. Strong. Confident. With my ups and downs. The best version of me yet.

Written impulsively too.

xx