Friday 13th…

… and nothing happened. Well stuff did happen. Like colleagues at work ranting against me again for asking to use an hour of overtime. Or me just letting it slip. Or me buying an inflatable swimming pool for our garden. Or taking care of a little rabbit for a week. Or my sister being in hospital. Or my kids’ summer break starting today.

I still feel disconnected and sometimes when I take my phone, I don’t know what to do with it. There is no need to check statuses and posts… There is a lot less scrolling.

I did not work on the new book today, but I finally folded my son’s, my daughters’ and my own laundry. Took me several hours. I also cleaned the house. Things I just couldn’t do for weeks now.

I want to be a good mother to my children, but some days I wonder about it all. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t. I have a hard time talking about my self. We took pictures at work and I was taken aback with how much it shows that I am not well. My eyes, my mouth. I look sad.

There are moments when I don’t feel sad. There are moments when I feel like a million bucks. I am feeling all sorts of emotions washing over me, I am carefree and me. In that moment I am happy. And I live without regrets. But, what I am struggling with is giving most of what I have to offer and not having anything in return. Sometimes it only feels like nothing, but that feeling of nothing or rejection makes me doubt myself. I hate it when I am like this, because I know exactly how I am feeling, but I have no clue how to change it. I was looking into therapists. Truthfully? I can’t afford it. It is too expensive. Being healthy is one damn expensive thing.

Since I am not active on any other platform anymore, I am wondering if I should borrow Satursongday from Nate Maingard. I would post a song every Saturday. I am not sure if I will do that. Having the ideas and acting them out are two different things. And I often have ideas that will never see the light of day.

Light of day… It’s night and there is a chance of sleeping in tomorrow.

This post is uncoordinated. This is how I think. I think about one thing and somehow it is linked to another thing that I don’t mention and that thought that I am not expressing leads me to the one I am writing. It is hard to follow me to times. But to me, it makes perfect sense.

Either I am entering a manic phase or my onyx beads that I have been wearing on my wrist for two days straight are helping.

Goodnight

C

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

Random_20180530

Another night and I can’t sleep. Taking the phone in one’s hand in this situation is like adding the last nail to the coffin. I should know better by now, but I don’t. And I also don’t know what’s keeping me awake these days. I am tired, so so tired. Yet I can’t sleep. And I am not even busy thinking or over-thinking.

I will try to count sheep to go back to sleep. 🙂

Happy

Instead of 26 hours, I spent 40 hours at work this week. And I always had to be there early. Even today I got up at 6am to be part of a conference at work, whereas you will not see me up before 9:30 on a usual Saturday. I am exhausted.

But, I will not complain, because I am also happy. You read that right. The one who is always (or most often) whining, is happy.

I’ve learned to let go. And truthfully, I switched one addiction for another. But that’s okay. Because it makes me smile. I am feeling whole. I am beautiful. I am intelligent. I am funny. I am happy.

How often can I truly say it and mean it? I admit that I am scared to jinx it. And I know that this feeling won’t last forever, but it has been with me for over a week now and I am embracing it. And yes, doubts and low self-esteem tried to spoil it all, but I didn’t allow it.

I am sharing this, simply because I want to show you that not every day is bad. Some days and weeks are really good. And they are even better when we let go of toxic people and embrace our uniqueness.

I ask you to love me. Because I deserve it. Often, I don’t have love for myself. For every quality, I see two flaws. Some days though, some days the qualities have a lot more weight.

Love yourself. Be happy. Allow people to love you. Be daring and step out of your comfort zone. You never know what you might find.

Cathy – the woman who is stepping off her soapbox now. 💜

PS: I am having a week off work. Yay! I need it.

most successful post

Once in a while, not often, I look at the stats of this blog. These last two months have seen more traffic on here than all of 2017. It’s amazing, thought I am not sure what changed.
My most successful post has been shared on March 28th, 2015. It’s actually quite surprising, because the post has not been tagged, but one person with a very wide social media reach – Nate Maingard – shared it with his followers and I guess that did the trick back then. It was a very naked and bare post and although I don’t agree with all of what I wrote at this point in time, I want to share it with you.

A very personal post

I feel the need to write this. It may be impulsive and it will be very personal.
Everything that happens inside of me, feelings, emotions, I need to deal with it on my own. More importantly, I never find the words to say what is wrong.
As a teenager, I cut myself. It was my outlet and my way to let go of the emotional hurt I felt. I grew up in a broken home, with a very ill mother. Her sickness and the way I cared for her from a very early age on, made me the person I am today. With all the implications of her illness, I was never shown love or affection. I grew up in a household full of adults. Grandparents, aunt, uncles, my mom and my sister (three years older than I am). Love and affection was nothing shown in my family. I wasn’t hit or abused. Not physically, instead, I was ignored or yelled at when I did something wrong. From an early age on, it was expected that I help my mom. My earliest memory goes back to when I was four years old and helped my mother with her daily hygiene… I won’t go into details. Suffice to say, no child that young should need to do these things for their parents. I was bribed into it and I was told if I refused or reluctantly helped, that I didn’t love her enough. And since I loved my mom, I did as I was told. And I broke inside, bit by tiny bit.
Emotions were bottled up and I found a friend in music. It was my safe haven, somewhere where I could flee from my daily life. I never had many friends, I wasn’t allowed to go out and I wasn’t allowed to bring anyone home.
I was thirteen when I first cut. I never hid my wounds. Nobody ever asked about them. Cutting was like a valve to release the pressure I felt. In a way, it felt as if my skin was too tight and when I cut, I fit in again. Little things could trigger it. I remember one particular cut that my grandma saw. I remember how she laughed and told me that if I wanted to kill myself, I should cut my wrist. No help there. It was a cruel thing to say, but I was used to it. Back then, I felt alone. Like a freak. An outsider on every front.

Despite it all, I was a rebel. I started to meet with the wrong people, fell in love with the wrong people and saw them destroying themselves with drugs. I never did anything. Was I a coward or too headstrong? I don’t know. I simply didn’t like to see them lose control and I didn’t want to see it happen to myself. Drugs were never an option for me. If it had been, I would not be here right now. I would have died with my friend. (he died of an overdose in 2012). I didn’t go home during the days anymore. I went to school and wouldn’t go back home until it was evening. I would do my chores at home and hide in my room with the music turned up. I wrote pages and pages in my diary and I also started to write poetry. It became an outled and I stopped cutting. I simply stopped. It was hard at first. To take the pen instead of the cutter. But I succeeded. I was proud of myself, but I had no one to share that feeling with. It’s the story of my life.

Looking for love and affection. It never stopped.

I met the man I married when I was sixteen (almost seventeen). He lived a life very different from the one I lived (and was six years older too). In a way, he saved me.
I went to school and started a specialization, all without the support of my family. They didn’t care as long as I was there to help with this and that. In their minds, I never missed anything. I had clothes, a roof over my head and monthly pocket money. They didn’t understand that I needed more. I was told that I was/am egoistic and self-centered. Maybe they were/are right. I finished school in 2004. I was the first and to this date only one of my family, who went to school and got a degree that allowed them to go to university. I had plans. But then I became pregnant with my first child. In 2005 I gave birth to a beautiful boy. I love him to bits. I moved in with his father and for the first time in my life, I didn’t need to take care of my mom. I now had my own little family. I was devastated with feelings of guilt and I was told more than once that I destroyed my family because I was so selfish and had a child. I was twenty-one. Old enough to make those decisions for myself. After my son’s birth, I fell into a deep hole. I cried a lot and I didn’t want to live anymore. I loved him, but it was not enough. I felt useless and worthless. Lonely too. I had 1 (one) friend and her life was very different from mine. She was single and worked and I was jealous of her. She was free, while I was still tied to someone. In hindsight, I know that I had postnatal depression. It took months to find a way out. But again, I did it on my own. I was a recluse. Gained a lot of weight, lost most of my sparse self-esteem and hid. More importantly, I didn’t talk about it. Again, words failed me. And reaching out was out of question. I was weak and frail, but I didn’t want to show it. There were times in my life, when I drove in my car – alone, and I wondered if I should just put my feet on the pedal and drive off the road or into the next wall. Of course I never did. I only ever had one car accident and that was when I thrashed a parked car’s side mirror when driving by. And rest assured, those thoughts are not in my mind anymore. But they were and I will not deny it.

Life went on for a couple of years. I found work and I liked it, but I never wanted to leave my child alone. I got married at twenty-four. I was with my partner for seven years then and I had told him that either we would marry or I would take the child and live a life on my own. It wasn’t my finest moment, but I felt like wasting my years with someone who didn’t show me that he cared. He cared. I just didn’t see it.
I became a mom for a second time and soon after that for the third time and I felt content. I didn’t work anymore and although I missed the freedom of it, I enjoyed being with my children and being there for them. I spoil them and show them how much I love them. Every day. I didn’t have the time to let my thoughts drift to dark places either, My sole preoccupation was to be the best mom I could be.
My life seemed to have turned around, until in 2011 something was triggered inside of me. To this day, I don’t know what it was. I began cutting again. I was twenty-eight. I didn’t do it often. Four times in all, but I did. And at that time, I realized that I had to do something. I had to work through my own emotional baggage. I began writing. Fiction and poetry. Nonfiction too. I shared it online. Shared many very personal things about me too.
I don’t know what I expected. I didn’t expect to find people who liked what I wrote and the way I wrote. I didn’t expect to find people who found my poems to be meaningful and powerful. It was a nice feeling. I felt valued and didn’t feel the need to hide my own emotional roller coaster anymore.
I never told my family about it and when I finally did, they laughed about it. Saying I wasn’t good enough anyway. To this day, none of them has read anything I have written. They can’t judge if I am good enough or not, but they do. I am different from them. That’s enough to judge me.
I just only wanted to be loved and be accepted for the damaged person I am.
There are still many days when I don’t feel appreciated and the internet has made me quite vain too. It build some of my long lost self-esteem, but easily destroys it too. There are days when I wake up and have sixty or more notifications on my phone. I chose to share my writing on a site called Wattpad.(link is on the about me page). It’s a great site for immediate reactions to your writing. I need that. I need that immediate response. I share my poetry on here too, share the links, just like I will share this one too, on twitter and I get no reactions at all. That is when I feel unappreciated again. I support so many people and rarely feel that support in return. It’s not that I expect it, but it would be nice to be acknowledged. It would just be nice, that’s all.
Recently, I am much more in tune with my internal self. I know exactly when a bout of depression is lurking around the corner. I can feel it creeping up on me several days before it strikes. And when it happens, there is a wall that comes up. I write more poetry then and I can’t wrap my head around writing fiction. Which only makes it worse, actually. That writer’s block just pulls me under deeper. And I feel useless and untalented too. I often wonder why anyone should read anything I write. Whether if it’s a poem, a short story or my full length novels. The answer is, I don’t know. The answer is also, because they are good. Yes, my grammar lacks here and there, but I am improving every day. English was the fourth language I learned!

Last September, I was told to look into self-publishing, and I did. Between September and November 2014, I released three books. Self-published and it was a lot of work. They went through proofreading (and still have typos…) and they got reviews (good and bad), but I continued to write and post for free. Not long ago, I realized that once again, I had acted impulsively and although I was very proud about having published these books, they have strong characters and strong story-lines, I also realized that they need more work. I unpublished everything and I am on my way back to my roots.

Writing. It gave my life a routine and a direction. Music too. I spend way too much money on music and my shelves are packed to the brim with CDs, but I love it. I love it even more when the music touches me on a personal level and it doesn’t matter if the artist/band is famous or not. If I like it, I will buy it.

There are days when I want to scream and hide. I can’t because of the kids and my responsibilities. There are days, when I don’t want to get up and I want to sleep until the feelings and thoughts in my head stop torturing me. But it doesn’t happen. It’s a recent thing, but I learned to accept those phases. They are a part of me. They are a part of the person that I am.
I am starving for love and affection and I don’t see that change anytime soon. And even when I don’t feel good, I will not ask for help. I need to get it done on my own and at the same time, I wish someone would say that they know how I feel. Truth is, only I know how I feel and even while I write these many many words that probably will not be read, because I wrote them and nobody really cares about my thoughts and little hiccups, I cannot make you see inside my head. But I can maybe make you understand, why I am the person I am and how my mind works.
I was told that I am cold. I was told that I am strong. I even was told that I am amazing. I was told that I am too emotional and I was told that I am selfish. Maybe I am all of those things. In the end, the only thing that is real and true is that I am me. I am Cathy. I am flawed and damaged beyond repair. I am starving for something that I can’t accept, even if offered to me.
Under layers and masks, I am a woman (old or young, depending on the mood) with lots of thoughts on her mind. I am me. And I want you to love me.

****
I hope this didn’t scare you away. The post itself is completely unedited. As stated above, I am not agreeing with everything anymore, and the worst phase of my mental health began some months after that post were written, but I still remember that I felt a strange kind of pride to have put it all down and in words.

Have a great day…
… I will too

Cathy – the woman with the headache,lol

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

A bit of an early morning rant

Let me ramble about work ethics for a moment. I have a trainee at work. She started mid-April. Today included, she already miss six days at work. I told her yesterday that she should be careful and not miss too much work, it doesn’t look good on her. It doesn’t put her in a good light. Her work is shallow and on the outside, it looks good. She doesn’t get involved with the children though. And she is not reliable. I am a bit angry right now. She is supposed to be a help – instead she is a burden. She has a second chance with us – she dropped out of school, and she is not using it. It sucks. And I told her so many times, but maybe she is too young to understand. I am willing to help her and to teach her the ropes. But she has to be there too. If she’s not present, and if she keeps being unreliable, I can’t do anything for her… This sucks.

And now, shower and off to work. (Without her…)

Quote 3/3

As long as there is a brain in my mind and cum in my balls, I will never forget you ~ anonymous

Welcome to the third and last quote of this challenge. I was nominated by the lovely Paul to share three quotes. I like Paul. Read his blog and you will know why I do. Go! Dive head first into some decent writing. And bring pizza. He likes pizza.

The Rules

  • Thank the person who nominated you
  • Post a quote for 3 consecutive days (1 quote each day)
  • Nominate 3 new bloggers each day

Now, about my quote: it is crude and raw and raunchy. It lacks respect and at the same time, it promises the addressee to be remembered forever. Romantic. It is not a publicly known quote – it is something that was said to me a while ago; a lifetime ago, that’s why I consciously chose to keep the author of it private. Still, I love it so much, because it has meaning. Of course, it is not a quote you can share with everyone; some people might be disgusted or offended. (If you feel offended, then so be it. I will not apologise at this point in time.)

My last nominees for this challenge are:

Pulkit Awasthi

Kent Wayne

Duc Nguyen

I hope you enjoyed this. And for everyone who is disappointed that the quotes I chose were not as deep or touching as they expected them to be, I apologise. It has to do with a tired and detached mind.

Good night and see you soon. Thank you so much for your ongoing support. It means more than I can say.

xx

Bicycle randomness

  • I never lived alone and on my own
  • I don’t like fruits, apart from raspberry
  • I work at a nursery and love my job a lot
  • Yesterday, a family member told me how unhappy I am. I was offended. I am not unhappy.
  • My kids are the best thing I ever created
  • I cannot stop writing
  • The woman who got me into serious writing and me, drifted apart. Recently we got back in touch and I love every moment of it because she is such an amazing human being
  • I am 35 and married with three kids. I don’t often mention this little fact
  • My depression was ridiculed by family members, that’s why I don’t talk about it anymore
  • Is a random fact still random when it is in an ordered list?
  • I am a messy person and hate to clean up
  • Sometimes, I am OCD
  • I am definitely overthinking and always looking ways to blame me
  • Autoaggression – it has many different faces
  • I am afraid people don’t like me
  • I try to be kind but I can be bitchy too
  • I like to brag about my music collection, but it is really eclectic. So much so that I bet you that you wouldn’t know half of the artists
  • I can’t be funny on purpose
  • I appear to be too serious, but I am not
  • My humour is dark, twisted, and very nasty
  • I am not as innocent as I may appear to be
  • When we moved house a couple of months ago, I found a hoodie an ex gave to me. My son is wearing it all the time now. I am not sure if that is a good thing
  • I am very tired all the time, but I can’t sleep
  • Don’t send roses and don’t save the last dance for me – I don’t care about these things. I am not a romantic
  • I haven’t cried in a while.
  • I am emotional. And I care. Even about the wellbeing of the people who aren’t part of my journey anymore
  • The title of this post doesn’t make any sense at all
  • I am grateful that I am an open-minded person. I am learning a lot every day
  • I like to read
  • I love spinach and broccoli – I really do
  • I can’t believe my son is already 13
  • I stopped sharing as much on IG because three of my work colleagues followed me there and I don’t want them to see the very real me
  • I hate to censor myself
  • It’s an honour to see when people relate to my writing
  • I am a proud Luxembourger
  • I am a sleepyhead who believes in the power of dreams and reads her horoscope everyday. I don’t necessarily believe in it, and yet, I like to read it
  • In my need to be appreciated, I often agree to do things I don’t like
  • I can’t say “no” very well
  • Most times, I am a good person
  • I am not intelligent enough to read poetry. I often don’t understand it
  • Simple words. Short sentences. Lots of impact.
  • This blog has had more traffic in 2018 than in all the years before. And I love it.
  • I don’t have anything important to say
  • That doesn’t stop me from saying the unimportant things
  • I am good at giving advice – but I can’t follow any advice
  • There is a definite submissive streak in me, but I don’t like to give up control
  • I believe that there is a song for every situation
  • I have been using the username “micqu” since 2011. Before that, I was mysteria. Mysteria wasn’t mysterious at all and the name was taken on too many sites already. Micqu was borrowed from a friend who said that she wanted her first child to be called Miko. Catherine (which is my real birthname) was added when I published my first novel
  • I am an awful writer. I am an amazing writer
  • My favourite perfume is Jean-Paul Gaultier Classique pour femme
  • Cutting my long hair short was a very big deal for me
  • I haven’t seen my mom in 6 months. I haven’t seen my dad in 4 months. I haven’t seen my sister in 2 years. I am not attached to them. I often feel rootless.
  • If I didn’t write, I would be a better housekeeper
  • I am not patient in my private life, yet my patience is praised at work
  • I can only sleep on my stomach
  • I own two guitars but I can only play some basic chords
  • My kids are inheriting their love for music and books from me
  • I burnt my tongue tonight. I hate the feeling in my mouth
  • Tomorrow is labour day
  • This list is very selfish and not very informative
  • I am proud of you for having read this far
  • I am proud of me for not having given up on this thing (the blog, I mean)
  • Too much information
  • I like to look at interesting pieces of art
  • It’s 22:47
  • I know three people who have a birthday today
  • Thank you. Have a good morning; enjoy your day, and have an amazing night.
  • This is randomness 68 (if I counted right)
  • Inspired by @cappytalks Paul is way better at this than I am
  • (…) to be continuing

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.

Life Between Clouds and Feathers – ravens in the sky (2)

Connor is a young man whose locks look best kissed by a storm. The messy mop of dark hair frames a pale face whose highlights are the eyes. His eyes are like ravens in a blue summer’s sky. Girls like his appearance, but not his eccentric mind. Connor is in good shape. It comes from running all the time. But no matter how far he runs, he can never escape his past. Or his thoughts. Or the cloud that travels above his head. Boys like his appearance, but not his weirdness. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t find a way to fit in with his peers. And so, he spends most of his days in his own company. The silence is loud enough to make him feel less lonely. The silence is loud enough to let him lose his mind. He looks at the clouds in the sky. Not for the first time, he wishes to be as light as a raven to leave his place on earth. At night, Connor dreams of flying away, leaving everything behind. At night, Connor’s mind is free. Lost. Never to be found again.

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

It goes both ways

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 away. And while I tried to come to terms with it, using my mantra (everything happens for a reason), I failed to understand that I am not a part of his life anymore either. And as much as I have learned and gained (and lost) from this experience, he learned and gained (and lost) an equal amount of things. Sure, his lessons are certainly different, but they are there.

That thought, honestly, it blew my mind. Of course, I began pulling myself down and insulting myself as being egoistic and self-obsessed the moment I had some time to mull it over.

The fact remains that every coin has two sides. Everything we do has consequences. And sometimes, when we interact with someone, things happen for a reason. For us and for them too.

The lesson I am taking from this, is being even more considerate and kind. We all have our internal struggles. Most are hidden to the public eye.

xx

Cathy

Empty day

I had an empty day.

Is that what is called normal? There was no rage, no overwhelming moments, no serenity… Nothing. Just emptiness. An emptiness that wasn’t challenging. I was without deep emotions.

Strange. Strange indeed. But not unwelcome.

The sun was shining. I did not make my beds. I read, listened to music, played with the kids, took a bath… Mundane. And that was okay.

memory lane

As long as there is cum in my balls and a mind in my brain I will never forget you.

I wrote about this one before but I can’t find it anywhere so I will write it down again. This was said to me. Not written, but said. And I thought it was weirdly romantic. He laughed then, saying that it is our kind of romanticism, and he was right. In the meantime, this man is not a part of my life anymore. We knew the day would come but we tried to ignore it until it was there and he left. Which is okay and his proper right to do. But that sentence there, it keeps repeating in my mind. Over and over again. If it is true, then he will not forget me for a long time. I don’t want to be forgotten. Least of all by him. He who meant so much to me at one moment in time and who still does, who will always do.

When I shared this sentence with a friend, she was disgusted and thought it was very disrespectful. And I wondered if I had rose-tinted glasses on to be happy about these words. Now, a long time later, and these words still get to me and they are still disgusting to other people. For me, they are the ultimate declaration of love.

Funny how people see one and the same thing and feel so differently about it. Or maybe I am just weird. By the way, that same man said to me that he felt abject loneliness without me and that I was the only one who could fill the holes in his heart, in his mind and in his soul. Indeed, he is a writer… but come on… Those are amazing words to hear… Alas, love or an infatuation is not always enough. And I am not a romantic person anyway…

(written in August 2016 and still true)

Thinking about last year…

Where do I start? This year has been the best and the worst in a long while. But how and why? Well… On the outside, everything went really well. In February, I started the best job I could ever wish for. I am very happy there. I celebrated my tenth wedding anniversary with my husband in August. We built a house together and moved the family into said house last weekend. I reconciled with family members who were mere distant memories. I got a raise at work and a trainee, despite the few hours I work. (26 instead of 40). My kids are doing more or less well. Financially, everything seems to work out too. We are not rich, but we can afford to take the kids to the movies and to the restaurant once in a while. I had to get a new car in April. It drives me from a to b, but it’s not my favourite…
On the outside, everything is looking up.
The inside though, my internal life is a mess. I suffered from a sever bout of depression this year. Worse than ever before, and for the first time, I asked for help. I couldn’t go on the way I was. Asking for help felt like failing, but it also felt like being in control of my damned emotions again. My behaviour was toxic. I cut my skin and pretended that I was marking myself to remember things. I was in complete denial of my own needs and suffered willingly for someone else’s good. For a while, I took meds – I am not taking them right now, and they helped, but I also know that I need to get on without the chemical help. I was overwhelmed with the fast success and I felt inapt and unprepared. For everything. Stepping out of one’s comfort zone is a scary thing. Emotionally, this year was very draining. From dealing with the past and worrying about the future, to coping with the present. I tend to assume and overthink. I often suppose and project, instead of knowing, and that’s what gets me every time. Add people to the mix who are sending mixed signals and are slipping through my fingers when all I want is to keep them close – let’s just say that it was the “coup de grâce”. The cherry on top.
My low self-esteem and the fact that I seldom allow myself to praise myself or be proud of an achievement makes life even harder for me. As it did this year. I guess, my ups and downs are palpable in my writing and in my poetry. Mostly the downs though, because I don’t need to write as much when I am okay. (Or even in a manic phase.) I scare people away with my moods. I am quite overwhelming at times.
I also made friends and lost friends this year. Acquaintances became friends. Daily parts of my life. I was mentioned in the acknowledgements of two different books and a song was written with me in mind. I saw some live music, not a lot, and I bought some of music, I always do – nothing new.

My favourite books this year were “You” and its sequel “Hidden Bodies” by Caroline Kepnes.

My favourite movie was “Paris 05:59 Théo & Hugo”.

My favourite musical release? I couldn’t tell. I simply don’t know since I didn’t listen to all that much different music this year. Though, Spotify lists the following as my most listened artists this year:

  • Pearl Jam
  • IAMX
  • Anathema
  • New Order
  • Kate Bush
  • Tadgh Daly
  • Lone Wolf
  • Fabrizio Paterlini

I read a lot and I wrote a lot, but I couldn’t reach the 400 poems I wrote last year. But I also drank and smoked too much, lol. Again, self-destructive behaviour is one of my patterns.
I loved a lot, and hated very few things, and no people. I stood up for myself and cowered behind bad excuses at times too. I cried more tears than I shed the entire decade before. I felt anxiety and excitement…
And at the end of it all, I am daring to let go of an idea that has been planted in my mind for too long now. I kept holding on for the wrong reasons and now, my mind and my soul have to reconcile and accept that my heart is saying goodbye. I am letting go.

I had a good year. Intense and emotional, but successful too.

To everyone I accepted in my world and didn’t push away – please stay.
To everyone I accepted in my world and who betrayed me – fuck off.
To everyone I accepted in my world and pushed out – I am sorry, but it had to be this way.

To everyone reading this – thank you.

I know my flaws and my qualities and they help me survive.

Thank you all for your support and friendship, have a happy new year.

xx
Cathy

(A lighter version of this was shared on Wattpad…)

randomness

I read the following today:

Sorry I haven’t texted you in a while, I haven’t been drunk

It is sobering how unfunny this is, and how true it is sometimes too.

Let me explain, I have friends I often think about. Those friends mean a lot to me but I am often shy to initiate contact. I am afraid to be a bother. (I know that I am not, but it is a feeling I often get.) Getting in touch with said people often happens when I am tipsy or drunk. That’s the sad reason why I can relate to this.

Pathetic, really.

Happy Belated Anniversary

I actually missed my blogging anniversary. It’s been 5 years since I write whatever comes to my mind on this site.

In the beginning, I was shy about sharing my poetry and most of my older posts aren’t tagged at all. In the old days, this blog was mostly about music that I liked and I shared YouTube links. But then came the day that I realised that liking music didn’t make me a critic – and I never wanted to be a critic either. So? Why holding on to a concept I didn’t like anymore? I took off almost every music. I also took off most of my personal posts and began sharing my writing.

I am proud of my words. Of my writing voice. Sure, I cannot write a post without a mistake. I cannot write a poem without a mistake. But maybe that’s my signature? Lol…

I am not sure what the future will bring. But I learned that writing is more than just spending some time doing something. Writing helps me to filter my thoughts and put them in order again.

To everyone out there spending time here on this blog, thank you. I appreciate it a lot and I hope you never feel like you just wasted time when you leave my place.

Happy Holidays.

xx

A plea from the broken heart

Here I stand frozen in motion. A stranger in my own light. In my own right. Unable to say what I shouldn’t think. For once, claiming my rights to really fall apart. I am coming undone at my seams. Crying, mourning my own self. And I am afraid to leave it all behind. But there aren’t many moons (and even less moans) left for me. We all will die, that is for sure. But I need more time. Just a little more. And as I slowly disintegrate from within, I wonder if I let the darkest of my soul take over and allowed it to win. I am too tired to fight. Too exhausted to stay. I just want to live a little while. Oh my heart… Just keep on beating for me.

Inhale through the nose

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Exhale through the mouth.

Repeat.

Challenge accepted…

Before:

After:

Getting rid of the long hair was a big deal for me. 40cm (16inch) were cut. I always looked young. I look even younger now. Quite weird actually. This change of hairstyle happened spontaneously (on a whim) and after many years of being proud of my long hair.

While my kids aren’t fans of the short do (my daughter cried!!), I honestly love it and most people seem to like it too. (Or they are just being polite.)

I can’t really put into words how this feels. But I am happy 🙂

xoxo

Cathy