I must confess…

…that my loneliness/is killing me now/

Sorry… Britney wanted to sing along.

So… My confession.

Yesterday I listened to many records, and I even wrote about it. It felt so good. I still feel the ripples of the music I heard reverberating in my soul.

But… As much as I praised vinyl, I don’t own many records. They are very expensive, and I made a rule to just invest in vinyl that is special to me.

As for CDs… I own close to 2000 of them now. Of course, they don’t look as good (or special or edgy) on pictures than vinyl does.

I wondered today: who cares? No one does. I mean… If music affects me and you can’t relate to that, then it doesn’t matter on which devices I am listening. Plain and simple, no?

Music is my daily companion. And once in a while, like yesterday, I get the chance to immerse myself in. I hadn’t done that in such a long time, and these hours were precious. Priceless, really. As you probably noticed, I shared poems afterwards. Inspired by the music.

When I was a child, I had a walkman. I found an old radio with chipped plastic corners. Later, I got a stereo (when I was 9). Music was by safe haven ever since I was a child. Lyrics touched me. Made me feel strong. Made me feel weak. Made me cry. Made me laugh. I feel strongly when I listen to music. And I am well aware that most people cannot relate. But it is a part of who I am.

I am not a particularly huge fan of this band or that. I think I’ve grown out of that. But there is one band – Anathema – which I listened to since I was 15. Twenty years. I fall back onto them again and again because their music is like a soundtrack of my life. Their lyrics touched me and still do. It gives me strength. It makes me weak. I saw them three times. Last time was last November, and shortly after their gig, I wrote a post on this very blog. Something personal. (Link to when you click on “post“).

I don’t have many passions in my life. Music is one. (Listening, and I can sing okay.) Writing is the other passion. And often I am not sure if I am any good at it. I believe that I am. But that one (1) star on Goodreads makes me worry. Am I overestimating myself and my skills?

I have a friend who keeps telling me that if I invested in advertisement for my book Unquiet Minds, I could find worldwide fame. I don’t want that. I just want a couple more people to let me know that I touched them. Maybe it is all pretense. Maybe it is all just a pile of shit.

Words are falling out of my fingers, and I cannot stop them. One thought after the next.

Randomness.

By the way… I went to the movies today. I saw a Luxembourgish movie. Superjhemp retörns. Other superheroes are young and handsome and skilled. We have Superjhemp, an average middle-aged man who is working a dull day job. He is soft around the middle and gets his superpower from cheese (Kachkéis – cancoillotte) and beer. He flies with both hands in his pockets and has a fable to fly through closed windows. Overall, he is very Luxembourgish. As so often, this movie was adapted from the comics with the same name. And it was hilarious. I doubt though that non-Luxembourgers will find it funny. But it was.

Ok… So… This escalated quickly. All just to say, that I am an impostor and that I only own (+/-) 30 vinyls.

Thank you for allowing me this space to ramble.

Vote for my book. And buy it. If you want a signed copy, we can make that happen too. Get in touch: catherine.micqu@gmail.com

Thank you.

Cathy

Let this new week begin. 💜

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

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.)

Demons

I tried to kill my demons in different ways. I drank them to sleep. I cut them out of my skin. I drowned them out with loud music. I silenced them with words I read. Nothing helped. This demons are pestering little buggers. They will not leave. Once in a while their voices are quiet. But never for long. They like to torment me. Do you want to know what they say?

  • You’re ugly and fat
  • No one likes you
  • You want too much of everyone. No wonder they all run.
  • Untalented
  • Shut up, no one cares
  • Why should they?
  • Stop whining
  • You will never be good enough
  • You deserve this
  • Suck it up

This is just a sample, but these fuckers (“you swear too much”) never give up. There are days when I shrug it off, flip them off and go my own way. But doubt – man, doubt is a powerful thing. Once the seed is planted every good thing happening that very moment turns into something rotten. Why should anyone want to spend time with me? I should leave these people and their lives alone. And by spending time with me, I seldom mean real face to face encounters. Truth is, I dread meeting people. I hate to pick out clothes and shoes and do something with my hair. No matter what I am wearing, I am afraid too be judged. And after the judgment comes the rejection. At least that’s how my mind works. And I can’t handle rejection. I frightens me. It makes room for doubt. (Even the smallest and most unintentional form of of rejection does.) For the longest time, I thought I was alone in this. Maybe I was naive or something, but I couldn’t grasp the idea that other people are suffering too. I mean, apart from me, everyone is perfect. Their lives are perfect. It’s horse shit, of course, I know that. But that is not how my mind works. The grass is always greener on the other side. That’s my mind. Not seeing a tree while standing in a forest. That’s my mind too. And I hate to look vulnerable. I am already eccentric enough as it is. I keep my coffee in the fridge.

After I wrote that last sentence, a demon reared its head again. Why do you write stuff like this? No one will read it. You don’t matter. No one cares. Maybe that is true. Maybe no one cares, but maybe it makes people feel less alone. We all have our battles. Some days I wish I were a normal person. Some days I wish my mind wouldn’t play these tricks on me. Some days I wish I could see what other people see when they look at me. But it never happens. I have to deal with this. And I do it mostly on my own. I cannot find the words to speak about it. I cannot stand the look of pity in the people’s eyes who know. I cannot be a public failure. I cannot let them see… But I am here… Failing at life in plain sight. Failing. But also succeeding. And I have the scars to prove it. I have thousands of poems to prove it. I have laughing lines around my eyes to prove it. I am not failing every day. Some days, I am succeeding. Some days the demons are quiet. Those are the good days. They happen too. For no reason. Because I am learning that things happen for no reason. If I could only think less. Or maybe, keep thinking the same amount, but with more thoughts in favour of myself.

Because, truth be told, despite being trapped in a tunnel with only slight rays of light, I am an awesome woman. Maybe not awesome, but worthy. Worthy of time, understanding, and care.

Thank you

Last letter to a stranger

I always knew that I wouldn’t be the one to save you. I cannot save myself, how could I possibly save you? See? I thought we had a connection. I really did. After all, you saved me for more than two years. We share the same thoughts and opinions. We share the same fantasies. But that is not enough. It is not enough to be less toxic than it is. Because you are who you are, and I am who I am. Together we are bad for each other. Apart, we are in pain; but it is healthier than any other option. And that’s good. But because I also am who I am, I am willing to submit to you and your wishes. I am willing to forget what I know, I am willing to forget who I am, to be the person you want. But you know what? That’s not how it works. I am a strong woman. I might not always be mentally stable – in fact, a lot of my latest bouts of depression and feelings of unworthiness were fuelled by you. I know that you are blind to that. Or are you just pretending? You are in your head and I am in mine. You are in my head too. I romanticised something that was not romantic in the first place. Or maybe, maybe it was. Maybe it was too much. There is a reason why I keep thinking of you as my twinflame. I allowed you to do things and tell me things I would never have allowed anyone else. Willingly. I gave my consent. I gave you all the control over our situation. I reasoned for myself that it was out of respect for who you are and what you do – being in the public eye and all. But the truth is: I wanted to push away my own responsibility. Truth is, I need someone to take care of me. Someone who shows affection and is attentive to my needs. Someone who tells me what I need to hear. I wanted that person to be you. I assumed things and I projected feelings… It was my own fault. My responsibilities. In the end – you are free as a bird. Caged by your own insecurity and your own mental health. Me, I am not free. I live in my own cage. No, I am not free. And yet, I am the one who tried to demand all these things from you. Mostly, I demanded time and some sort of steadiness. You weren’t willing to give me that. Of course I felt rejected and began to overthink. And I ended up in a spiral that didn’t allow me to break free. I am still holding on, to be honest. Even though I understand your “fuck off” in my direction very well. But – silence is easy. Talking is brave. We are both cowards, though. We had this one opportunity and we didn’t use it. But again, blaming this one opportunity is wrong. We had so much time; we had months and years, but, we chose to keep the distance. We never shared anything physical. Not even once. And this brings to my mind something you said after our last video-call. I said that for the first time, it felt real. You smiled and said: nothing is real unless you are in the same room and breathe the same air. I wanted it to be wrong. But last night I understood how right you were. We were in the same room. We breathed the same air. I even inhaled your cigarette smoke. And yet… We were miles apart. We never tried to bridge the gap. Of course, it would have been my role to play the proper fangirl and try to get to you. But – I am not a fangirl. I never was. You are only human. You have flaws, plenty of them. And I was willing to accept them and you. I deserve and demand a better treatment. I am worth more than that. At a training a couple of weeks ago, we were asked to write down the answer to the question: how much am I worth? I had a good day and so I answered: I am worth more than I allow myself to be.

You once told me that you don’t deserve to be loved. That you deserve to feel pain. I think, you deserve to be loved the way you are. I think, one should not change in order to be loved – no matter who you are and how you behave. And I think that you don’t deserve pain, though I know what you mean when you say you do.

The other day I wanted to mark myself and the upcoming event. But I felt a complete lack of emotions.

Last night, while I stood in the crowd. I felt that lack of emotions too. It’s the opposite of how I am feeling now. Silence scares me. Your silence is at once comforting and torturing. equal to being rejected and being ignored. So what am I doing now? What the fuck am I doing?! I am doing what I kept doing for so long. I am finding excuses for you and forgetting me and my needs. We both know that it was and is all about you. My own needs just coincidentally match some of yours. And you fed me just enough to stay around. Now that you said goodbye, all I feel is empty and I am drowning in a void. Oh Stranger… I can’t let go – I have to let you go. I want to protect us both. I want the best for you. And me. I keep forgetting me. Such a bad habit, isn’t it? And I keep forgetting to learn my lessons, too. This was important for me. Very much so. You said that we will meet in an other life. We only have this one life. I choose to write this final letter. Intense and overwhelming, just how you know me. And how you will miss me. Goodbye dear stranger. I will miss you forever and a day.

Always and forever your Sweetie

November 2017

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

untitled-20180502

6:37 in the morning. Tears and shower water mingle. It hasn’t been this bad in a while. No way of getting her thoughts straight and too many responsibilities to rest. Nowhere to hide, just in plain sight. Getting dressed. One task done. Getting the kids ready for school. Another task done. Did not cry for an hour. Success. Husband didn’t notice – or hasn’t said anything. Success. Driving to work. Another task done. Working on autopilot. Smiling, singing. Out of body experience. She wishes she wasn’t there. Nowhere. No one notices. Success. She’s winning. Not this battle, not this fight. One task at a time.

Too late.

Some say it is never too late. But what if it is? It is too late and I am going to go. I am going to go and… I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. Because it is too late. It is too late to do things differently. And I don’t want to change my ways anyway. So, I guess I am trapped in my own reluctance to be. What if I cease to exist? What if my breath stops? What if I close my eyes and forget to open them again? What will be my last thought? And if I fall asleep forever, what will be my eternal dream? I don’t want to know. I am here. I exist. I breathe. And I am tired. I am positive and I am tired. Exhausted. I am exhausted. Breathing is. Existing is. Being is.

The music keeps playing. Lives go on. Mine does too. Because I have a lot to learn, a lot to teach. I have a lot of love to give. And smiles to smile. I have millions of hugs to give. And words to listen to; to write; to read.

If I was… But I am not. And the rain falls down in its own way, and the wind blows in its own way. There is nothing more to say.

Moving. Paralyzed.

Sitting here wasting the moment. Incense stick burning. Calming? Not so much. Just burning. A movie is playing. Flickering on the screen. Not important enough to keep my focus. A drink on the table. I won’t touch it. It doesn’t feel right. Too many emotions happened yesterday. I scared myself yesterday. My behaviour scared me. It never happened like that before. I lost control. But have I really lost control? I don’t know how to get back. One breath after the other. One step in front of the other. Emotionless. Until I am eaten by all these emotions. And nothing is alright. Yet everything is alright. I should not complain. And I am not. I am sitting in silence. Enduring the torture I bestow on myself. Silently.

I am supposed to be supporting a colleague from work tonight. She is acting in a play. Something small. But important for her. The team was supposed to go. Some of the girls bailed. Until tonight I was sure I would go. But the day was long. The day was hard. And I couldn’t go. I couldn’t join them. I couldn’t face a crowd of people tonight. And so, for the first time, I told my colleagues why I couldn’t go. That I need time for myself. And I know them enough to know that they will be speaking about me – gossiping. I am afraid to go back to work on Monday. They will look at me with different eyes. They will be nice and kind and empathetic. But that is not what I need. I need them to be the way they always are. I get stuff done at work. I am a doer. And I am afraid that they won’t let me do things anymore.

I did not hurt myself yesterday. I dropped hot grease on the floor. And I couldn’t clean it up. Such a stupid thing. But it made me cry. I failed. I began shaking and hyperventilating. I panicked. Anxiety kicking in. Over some god damn grease I couldn’t clean away. I tried and I tried. Until I was too agitated and gave up. I sat and breathed and breathed. And I grew tired. So tired. And empty. I finally cleaned the mess I made. Easily, i might add. And after that, I felt as if I had changed. That emptiness. It devoured me. So much so that I tried to get in touch with someone from the past. They didn’t react to my message. And maybe that’s good. Maybe it is better that way.

Stuck. Can’t move. Paralysed. It won’t stop by itself. And I don’t have any fight in me anymore.

Some days are so easy to just go with the flow. I don’t write about those days. They are plenty too. Some days are just a constant struggle.

I didn’t have a good start this year. Three months in. Enough time to go to change things. Make it better. Why can’t it be easier? What’s wrong with me? Why am I this consumed by toxic thoughts and feelings?

It began in 2015… I don’t regret it. And am not sure if I would change many things since then. The best things happened. The highest highs. But also the lowest lows. And if the people who inspired the highs where still there during the lows, I am sure it would be easier. But they are gone. Out of reach.

So many lonely moments and I am rarely alone. So much emptiness and so many overflowing emotions. So lost. So there. Too many contradictions, but they all make sense. To me.

And when I can’t find my path in the dark… I will keep moving.

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.