One of those nights…

My last nights have been bad. I had nightmares, almost every night. Completely out of the blue and in no relation at all with my life. Most times, the nightmares are about my kids or my mom. And I reached a point where I prefer not to sleep at all out of fear to have a nightmare again. But, to be honest, no sleep is not an option either… It makes me even moodier than I usually am. But hey… The kids think that I am easy-going these days. That’s something, isn’t it?

I am spending my nights differently… Taking selfies and putting one million filters on them. (Or only two: vignette and b/w)

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Reading stories on the mighty internet, or reading books; watching movie after movie; playing stupid games on my phone… Whatever kills time.

Tonight’s movie:

Fear

Released in 1996 and directed by James Foley. Awesome thriller with Mark Wahlberg and Reese Witherspoon and many other known faces. A love that turns into an obsession… One of those movies I have seen too many times. And also one of the first times that I got in touch with the music of Bush.

Seeing that the film is 23 years old, it is charmingly outdated too

Good night…

Unforgettable

One of my biggest and most irrational fears is to be forgotten. Rationally, I know that we don’t forget the people we like. We don’t forget the people who we invite in our lives or hearts. And yet, I am afraid to be forgotten. Once in a while, I ask people not to forget me. It must sound strange to them; maybe even annoying. Just, at that moment, my mind needs a reminder that I am unforgettable.

I am a piece of work.

Un-asleep

2:45 am. I can’t sleep. I woke up from a dream – not a nightmare, but unsettling too. I keep trying to recall my dream, but it is gone – lost in the corners of my mind. I just know that I was wrong about something. I did the worst one can do when unable to sleep; I took my phone and checked notifications. I was on Twitter and on a whim, I unfollowed a couple of accounts, the one of my former favourite band too – turns out they are a bunch of pretentious bellends. It took me almost 20 years to see it. I still appreciate their music; it was the soundtrack of my life, and yet… I really don’t like the people they became. Or is it me?

Am I drifting away from the person I used to be? I feel empty and overflowing. Sad and happy. Tired and wide awake.

How did that happen? When did everything change?

In a little more than 2 hours my alarm will go off, and I need to go to work. Early shift. I like that – if only it started later, lol.

Birds are beginning to chirp outside (the window is open); my husband is snoring next to me, and my mind is thinking too loud.

101 things I dislike

Throwback to 2016 when I wrote this list. It’s been a long time, and I updated it somewhat — not a lot.

Can you relate?

Without fear of being judged (read: with near panic like fear of being judged) I will try to come up with 101 things I don’t like.

1. The colour orange

2. Flying

3. The cold weather

4. Snow

5. Chocolate

6. Ketchup

7. Christmas songs and decorations in November

8. Waiting

9. Being ordered around

10. People who don’t say thank you

11. Rude people

12. Unanswered questions

13. Lemon

14. birds

15. Feathers

16. The sound of my alarm clock

17. Being tickled

18. Being taken for granted

19. Negative people

20. Emotional vampires

21. Instruments that are out of tune

22. Cocky people

23. Jealousy

24. Drivers not setting the turn signal

25. Wondering if my English is good enough and if others understand what I am trying to say

26. Doubting myself

27. People who make lots of noise when they are eating (!! Important one)

28. Fruit

29. Killing animals – even flies

30. Not being taken seriously

31. People who aren’t getting the job done right

32. Belching

33. The smell of vomit

34. Touching door handles in public spaces

35. Not seeing anything at a concert

36. Payment declined – for no reason

37. Forgetting my pin code

38. Water touching my ears (anything touching my ears)

39. Swimming

40. Crowds

41. Ignorance

42. The smell of cold smoke

43. Sprite or any sweet beverage

44. Anything bitter

45. Having a stuffed nose

46. Being surprised

47. Offering presents

48. Shopping for clothes

49. Animals

50. Meat

51. Saying goodbye

52. Deadlines

53. Gory horror movies

54. Going to church

55. Thinking about negative things

56. Mess left by the kids after eating nuts or grains

57. Jazz

58. Musicals

59. Long fingernails

60. Not having enough sleep

61. Chanel no 5

62. Visiting a home for disabled people

63. The sound of chalk on a blackboard

64. Expensive rents or mortgages

65. Working in a garden

66. Sketching, drawing, painting

67. Pens that aren’t working

68. Coffee with sugar

69. My double chin

70. Milk

71. Hairy feet

72. Star wars

73. Harry Potter

74. Lord of the rings

75. The way eyes itch from allergies

76. Almonds and nuts

77. Bread (with the exception of French baguette)

78. No toilet paper when I am on the loo

79. Autocorrect

80. Forgetting to save my work when I just wrote 500+ words

81. 0 likes on stories or poems I thought turned out great; 21 likes on mediocre poems or stories

82. Questions with obvious answers

83. Gossip

84. Talking bad behind someone’s back

85. Losing track of people who once were an important part of my life

86. Wasting time (mine and the time of others too)

87. Forgetting things

88. Broken promises

89. Being unable to speak straight sentences lately (stuttering, not finding the right words)

90. Dentists

91. Being late (me or people being late)

92. Being intense

93. Migraines

94. Fishing for more things I dislike

95. No network or wifi

96. Social media knows everything about us (bye bye Facebook)

97. Being watched while crying

98. Being stared at

99. Not knowing how other people are seeing me

100. Oranges

101. That I found 100 things I dislike…

Are you surprised? Why? Now, what do you think?

I was a child…

My mother has been ill ever since I can remember. Multiple sclerosis. Seeing her in a wheelchair was normalcy for me. I have never seen her walking at all. Helping her with her daily chores was hard, but I did it. After all, I wanted her to love me. And I wanted to please her.

When I was young, we (my sister and me) lived with my mother at our grandparent’s house. (Although my parents divorced when I was 9, they never lived together, at least not since I was born.) An aunt and two uncles lived there too. Primary caregivers of my mom have always been my grandma and me. I don’t know why my older sister never had to help around the house, but I had too. And if I didn’t, I was humiliated, yelled at, and ignored.

That was my childhood. I suffered a lot, but no one ever seemed to care. Whenever I dared to bring it up, I was told that I was ungrateful and that I had everything I needed. I had clothes and a roof above my head. What I needed though, was affection. Some days, I was told to go to my father’s if I had it that bad at home. The truth was though; my father was a stranger. A stranger named dad. When I visited him, he never tired of telling everyone that I was a real mommy’s girl. At home, everyone said that I was a daddy’s girl. Both didn’t show any affection. No pride, no praise, no cuddling, no bedtime stories. Nothing.

All that left deep wounds on my soul. I am still searching, always searching, for affection. I want to be loved. And I am not sure if there is a lot to love about me. All I ever heard was that I was nothing and that they wished I wasn’t born at all. But I was good enough to wipe my mother’s butt, cut her meals and feed her. I helped her to dress and brush her teeth… I washed her and put her to bed. I was a child… Someone should have done these things for me. But they didn’t do it. I learnt swimming from a neighbour. I was taught how to ride a bike by my aunts then boyfriend.

I feel rootless. I don’t have a deep bond with my family. My grandma died in 2016. I have never been as sad as I was then. Even though she was very cruel to me. My mother lives in a care facility. I have a hard time visiting her. And truth be told, I have only visited once this year. (Award for the worst daughter of the year is mine.) Her declining health and the memories of my childhood prevent me from seeing her. Whenever I visit her, I am a bawling mess for days afterwards. It’s really hard on me, and I am not trying to be a drama queen. I just can’t cope. I wish I was strong but I am not.

I was a child when I broke into pieces. My oddities come from that time. And sometimes it is a miracle that I am who I am. There has never been any support coming from my family. Not emotionally and certainly not financially. Everything I am, everything I achieved, I did it on my own.

There is a reason why this is flowing out of me. My aunt called and told me in a harsh tone that I am supposed to be there for my mother and that I should visit. Today or tomorrow. I have a busy schedule though. And I can’t drop everything right now. My own children and their needs are always first. She told me things that I didn’t know because my mother never told me, yet I am accused of being selfish and not caring. I care. But I also need to do what is best for me. At least I think so.

I am aware that people cannot relate to this. They love their parents and have a deep bond. I don’t. I envy you.

I was a child when I had to be an adult. I was lost, and it took until I was in my early thirties to work through the traumas. Usually, I am quick to forgive and to forget. But not that. I can’t forgive that they stole my childhood. And I can’t forget how they treated me. I didn’t ask for a lot. I knew better than to ask for anything. I just wanted to be loved. I was only a child…

crippling self-doubt

Yesterday I posted a chapter (admittedly everything there is) of a thing I called Upside Down. I wrote those words late, and I was quite tired by then. I am sure there are a couple of mistakes and errors in there… But as a faithful reader, you are aware that every post has at least one typo. Be it as it may… I am not sure how to proceed and if anyone who follows this blog wants to read things like that. My overthinking and self-doubting self is a bother again. I am not expecting an answer because in the end I will do whatever seems right to me and comes naturally. If you say yes, I pressure myself too much. If you say no, I doubt myself and my capacities as a writer. You can’t win. I cannot either.

I am a tired woman wearing bright green pants (with huge white flowers – hideous pants) who is seriously considering giving Milly Baker and Josh Weller a backstory and making their characters come alive. The last names were a spur of the moment thing.

Thanks for letting me vomit my self-doubt on your screen. I could go on and on about it… But who wants to read that?! And I don’t want to write it.

Thank you for your time.

Cathy

Growing older…

Just the way we all do, I am growing older and older. Am I becoming wiser? I am not sure. I am becoming more me though. If my depression taught me something, it is that I am okay the way I am. I am far from being perfect. I am not the most intelligent, the most interesting, the most beautiful woman on Earth, but I am unique and I am me.

My emotions take a strong hold on me. Too strong. I love too deeply. I don’t regret and I don’t hate.

Everyone looking at me sees someone different.

Today, I am 35,5 years old and holding on. I am breathing. I am existing. I am me.

Unquiet Minds

I bring to you, Unquiet Minds. A poetry collection written over the last six years.

Unquiet Minds

This is the link to buy the ebook version from smashwords. The kindle and paperback versions will go live in 72 hours. Keep your eyes on the blog. I will share a link once it is live.

Thank you for your support. Share this book with your friends and followers, please.

Muah…

Cathy