Catherine Micqu

Drowning in a Sea of Voices

Dear Friends,

Did you notice? I published a new poetry collection. I am proud of it, it is filled with emotive words and lines.

Look at Amazon (worldwide) and you can order your copy from there, or, order it through this blog.

I know you want it. πŸ™‚

Drowning in a Sea of Voices by Catherine Tricarico

Enjoy these poems with a glass or mug of your favourite drink, light a candle and put on some soft music. Come with me on a journey through the mind of a romantic fool. ❀

A review would make me happy too. πŸ™‚ See? I am easy to please.

Thank you,

Cathy

Song of the Day (Saturday)

Anathema – the beginning and the end

I like this song, but I haven’t listened to it in a while. This morning it came on in my Spotify list, and it hit me in the right memories. Back in 2017, when I saw this band live for the fourth time (last time too…), this was the only song that had an impact on me. Granted, I was not in the best emotional place that night, but there was a lack of energy in the show that was not only coming from it being the last gig for the European leg of the tour.

A day later, I read a critic in the papers, what stuck was this part of a sentence: a small fat smoking guitarist

And although it is a mean and bullying thing to say, the author was not wrong. Poor lad, how crushing must it be to be judged like that on a daily basis?!

(I have a playlist of over 1000 songs that play on shuffle all the time. New songs I like are added to that playlist; it is updated almost daily, lol)

Either way, enjoy the song, and if you want a link to my playlist, just hit this link. It is public, after all. Cathy’s Spotify Playlist

Have a nice weekend.

Cathy

Crazy Wednesday Evening Randomness

I miss intimacy and someone who cares. I wonder why it is so hard for me to say this and for others to see? I am an open book, after all.

When my son told me about that friend taking his own life by throwing himself off a bridge, I was struggling. No, I was not affected by the loss of that child, I didn’t know the boy or his family, and yet, it got to me. It is part of my condition. I suffer internally when bad things happen.

It scares me. It scares me because sometimes I wonder if I could delete myself as easily as my Facebook account. I have lost track of how many times I deactivated that site. This time, I am going for deletion. There is nothing and no one who keeps me there, which is a lie – on my part. There are exactly three people who make me want to continue using Messenger. But, I am tired. I am tired of feeling ignored or neglected or abandoned. Even if I am not – it is my subjective emotion. People close to me, those who pay attention know that I have been raised in a way that I was ignored a lot. Affection was withheld. So now, when my mind suggests that people are treating me in a similar manner, I shut down. A wall comes up. I become nearly obsessive; at the same time, I become angry. Do I really deserve that?

The answer is NO. And you who are my friends don’t deserve it either. I am selfish, bordering on narcissistic. And I am in very bad shape right now. I push people away, and I don’t want to participate in anything. I can’t deal with anyone asking for attention. I need to be my own centre of attention.

I have been triggered. For a little over a week (October 6th), I have been struggling with self-harming behaviour. I haven’t done anything. I even consciously drank less alcohol and ate less crap than I usually do. But I am scared that it will happen.

Isn’t it pathetic?! I can’t be alone, but I don’t want anybody near me right now.

Nothing makes sense, least of all me – least of all mental illness.
Thoughts in circles. Not here nor there.

I was in training today (about speech development in small children). When I drove there, I wondered about mental illness. It is everywhere these days. It is a blessing and a curse. It is a blessing for me because finally, I came to realise that I am not alone. Many people feel as intensely as I do. Joy and sorrow. I have been struggling with depression since I was a teenager. Maybe even before. This illness was always a part of me, and for all I knew, I was insane. No one was as sad as me. No one was as moody as me. No one hurt themselves to feel… The internet took a lot of the shame and guilt I carried around and gave it an explanation and a reason. Of course, now I read about mental health and illness, and I am turning into a hypochondriac mess. Am I manic? Am I bipolar? I should have it checked out. When I spoke to a doctor about how I feel (not even two years ago), she said to me that I should take Vitamin D and that the winter would soon be over. I never mentioned it again. Although she prescribed me something to lighten the mood. It still didn’t feel right. To me, it felt as if I was not taken seriously. Not nice.

I need intimacy. A hug. A cuddle. Someone who runs his hand through my hair while my head listens to his heartbeat, and tells me that it will be okay.

Presence is not enough right now.

Cathy

.

.

.

.

PS: I saw Joker tonight. No spoilers…

I hope my death makes more cents than my life. ~ Arthur Fleck

Too hot to keep cool

I am clueless. Very often. What is happening?

And what the hell will happen to humanity if we keep going on like this?

The answer is: I don’t know. (Quote from one of my favourite movies: Reality Bites, I need to watch it again soon)

Fucking hell… I am speechless when I see the megalomaniac people, the egocentric ones, the selfish ones. Hate seems to be more valued than love, negativity is praised and “cool”, while positivity is weak and spiritual hippie crap. On the other side, being frail is accepted, flaws are welcome. Mental health issues are en vogue and everywhere and almost worn as a badge, as well as negated and diminished in the same conversation.

The world is full of complexities and opposites, and I am clueless about how to navigate them and about what will happen to us in these times of turmoil.

We will all go down. Fuck me… No one gets out of here alive.

But I am realizing more and more that serenity helps us get past any obstacles.

Most things are in our head, and reacting negatively makes everything worse instead of better. But positivity is so scarce these days, and, I, for one, have not learnt and experienced a lot of positivity in my formative years.

My mind is all over the place. And I am clueless. I often am. How can we sit back and watch as the world turns itself to dust?

What are you doing to make a change?

Me? I watch what I consume, recycle all my waste, take care of the environment, reduce the use of plastic… And, I work at a nursery where I try to educate the kids and share my values.

I also share my liberal values with my kids. I have discussions with them, explaining why I do the things in my own special way.

Yes, I am odd, but I am unique, and no matter how low my self-esteem can be, I also know that my presence enriches the life of everyone who is invited to walk on a part of their journey next to me.

It is too hot to keep cool…

Cathy

Tbt photo

I was actually trying to find a picture of me when I was pregnant; I mean, I have three kids, how hard can it be? Very hard! I found exactly three photos, and in only one you can actually see my belly – but that picture is blurry.

The idea for this post came from the many pregnant women in my life right now. Four of my friends are pregnant. And they will all give birth between November and December. There is my colleague at work, my neighbour, my sister-in-law, and an old friend from school. Try as I might, I cannot really remember my pregnancies. I mean, I do, yet I don’t. When your life and body are turned upside down for almost a year, and after that, you are sleep-deprived and suffering from breastfeeding dementia, I think it encourages memory loss.

The picture I shared was taken 12 days after my son’s birth. I was a couple of weeks shy of my 22nd birthday.

I love that picture. It’s very serene and peaceful, filled with love; protective too. That little guy on the picture is 14 years old and tall and handsome. He is an amazing human being who does his thing, never following any trends or pressures. I admire him. I want to be like that too. But I am an attention seeker, and I need to be validated all the time. Funnily enough, the only thing that I am very sure of is my parenting skills. I am sure that I am messing up all the time, but those three little people who grew from me and within me, are the best I ever created.

I want them to be fearless and kind and grateful. I want them to be considerate and never sell themselves short. At the same time, I want them to be modest. I want my kids to be good-hearted and tolerant. I want them to be open-minded and accepting of things and people that are different. I want them to be curious and thirsty with lust to learn and to live. Above all, I want them to know that whenever they fail, they are loved, and their mom – their parents, are there to consolidate them and help to resolve any issue that might arise. So far… I think we are on the right track.

When I feel down or bad, when depression devours me, then I talk to my kids, hug them, or just watch them, and I am reminded that I am needed, that I am not here in vain. I have a purpose.

This is all rambling just to say: I love my children. I love my family. I cannot for the life of me, imagine to be without them. They make me whole.

My husband plays a big part in this too. We have been a couple for almost 20 years now. Mind you; I am 36 – I know, I know, I am bragging, but I am allowed to do that here on my blog. I would never trade my husband for another man. He is handsome, intelligent, makes me laugh, doesn’t judge, and even after all these years, we are still talking – about everything. There are no secrets, no lies – everything is out in the open. Sometimes, we say things and grow silent because we don’t know how to react. We tend to ignore those elephants and keep living our peaceful lives. Once in a while, I am afraid that these things come back to bite us in the ass, but in the end – we are a strong couple. And we are this strong and weird and odd and unconventional because it is us.

My husband is the love of my life. So very different from me, but I don’t care. He is the most amazing man, and I want to grow old and fat with him. I want to make mistakes and cry and laugh and forgive. So far, I did all of it, and he never ran. Try finding a gem like that!

This turned out to be a stream of consciousness-y post.

Time to say goodnight.

I hope you all find someone to love, to have, and to hold.

*hugs*

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)

PhotoEditor_20190511_232336659.jpg

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…

#tbt what a difference 17 years make

This is an old picture of me. I like it quite a bit. In a time without photoshop or filters, I looked like this when the sun was about to go to sleep and the first half of the bottle of wine was empty, lol

There are not many pictures of me as a young woman; here I was 19. (My husband took the photo in 2002)

I was in Brittany with my husband, my sister, and three German guys whose lack of knowledge of the French language made for a couple of running gags that are still existing 17 years later. My sister married one of the guys and ran off with him. She never came back home again. (Well, she did, but only about a handful of times in all these years…)

The woman on this picture is not the same woman I am today. And that is good. Physically, I stayed the same height, just a little wider – more to love?! Emotionally, I am a different person.

Writing these sentences is quite trying. I am not my best friend and focusing on nice things to say about myself is hard. I wrote a lot that put me down but erased all the negativity again.

The woman on the picture is a strong one. She achieved every goal without any emotional support. In fact, she was often told that she was stupid and not good enough for anything at all. A lot of my emotional damage comes from this time and the years before that. Caring for my mom as a child was challenging, but I was naive and didn’t know it any other way. It became a burden when I was a teenager. I believe that if I had been treated with more love and care from my family, a lot of my mental issues would not exist. Maybe that is a bold statement. Maybe I was born this way. Maybe I was born with a predisposition… I don’t know.

But yeah, this woman on that picture, that version of myself had a goal in life. And I achieved it. And despite everything (and the mental health…) I became a successful woman. And I did it all without any help from my family. Granted, I often wonder why no one was ever there for me in times of need, why did I have to fight alone; but in the end, it doesn’t matter. Because I got shit done. It would have been easy to find excuses, drop out of school and do nothing – but that was not how I was wired. And so, I got my driving license, I got my professional degree from a university of applied sciences, I have a family with loving children (and they are loved and supported unconditionally) and I was told often enough that I would never become a good mom when I was pregnant with my first child… No matter what I did and no matter how many successes I had to celebrate, my family always found something negative to say about it, and I was always a failure for them.

But what can we do? We all fight battles and we all have a past. I am not trying to belittle mine, but my own experiences aren’t better or worse than yours. The only difference is that they are mine…

Below is a picture of me with my two angels. They didn’t want to let me go to work so they decided to pin me down to the bed by climbing on top of me.

What a difference 17 years make!

The lost stories…

Sometimes I wish there was something in my head to record and store thoughts and ideas for later use. (A brain maybe?!) For instance, I was brushing my teeth, and I had a vision of a first scene for a novel. I formulated sentences and all. When I spat the toothpaste out and rinsed my mouth, I took my phone to write it down, but my mind was blank. It happened before, and it will happen again, I know. But I wonder if I will forget the next bestseller this way.

It was something like this…

He closed the door with the heel of his foot and took off his mask. He shuffled a few steps to the fridge, took out a can of beer and made his way to the couch. It had seen better days; he had too. With a sigh and a groan he fell down and closed his eyes, assessing his body after today’s job. One of his ribs hurt, his left eye was swollen, and his feet hurt. He bent over to take off the tight boots and let them fall down on the floor. He wiggled his toes; freedom. His cape got stuck when he sat back again. Cursing, he got rid of the piece of cloth. He tried to throw it across the room to his boots, but it refused to fly. Just his luck. He was tired of his job, and it dawned on him – it was time to retire as a superhero. After two decades of saving humans from their own stupidity and not once facing an evil counterpart, it was time to stop. Being a superhero was annoying, but what else was he supposed to do?

There was a knock at his door; he didn’t get up. He had earned a couple of hours of rest. But the slip of paper being pushed under his door spiked his curiosity. It was an odd thing to happen. Mysterious.

(…)

Does this happen to you too? Do you imagine a story but before you can write it down, it has faded from your memory? I call them lost stories. πŸ™‚

Have a great Sunday and an amazing new week.

Cathy

Greed

I want to be madly and passionately in love. I want to be less sad. I want to be an optimist. I want to think less. I want to be seen. I want to stay hidden. I want to be free. I want to be alone. I want to never be alone. I want to turn back time. I want to travel in time. I want to undo situations. I want to redo situations. I want to be young. I want to be old. I want to be beautiful. I want people to take me seriously. I want to be somewhere else. I want to vanish. I want to waste my time. I want to daydream. I want a future. I want to be freed of the past. I want to trust you. I want you to trust me too. I want to laugh with you. I want to make you laugh. I want you to make me laugh. I want to cry. I want to cry with you. I want you to make me cry. I want to be intelligent. I want to be merciful. I want to be special. I want to be inspired. I want to be inspiring. I want to be at peace. I want to stay melancholic. I want to be your most important memory. I want you to recognize me. I want to be talented. I don’t want to hide. I want to stay compassionate. I want to stay confused and amazed about the world and people. I want to keep contradicting myself. I want to be more than a fantasy. I want to live. I want to be me. I want to know me. I want you to know me. I want to be interested. I want to be interesting. I want to find me. I want to be sensual. I want to step into the light. I want to stay in my darkness. I want to go out of my mind. I want to stay who I am. I want so many different things. I want to be everything. I want to be no one at all.

Et le temps court…

My bed is empty. My mind is full. I am tired, fighting a headache. Lying in the dark, I am listening to the rain. The window is open, and I feel the breeze on my skin. I know I should be asleep, it would ease the headache and maybe prevent the bad mood I am sure I will suffer in the morning. But I can’t fall asleep. I had troubles letting go the last few nights β€” dreams; not a nightmare, just unsettling dreams.

I have so many things to say and to share, and yet, they don’t matter, and so I keep them to myself.

There are times when I share most everything on my mind. I let my fingers write, and my mind think, and I just float on that wave that jumps from one thought to the next. I can’t seem to do that right now. (Although I am doing it) It just feels like stealing your time and attention. I know that you give it freely or else you wouldn’t be here, but my mind is trying to tell me that no one cares and that I don’t matter?

Why am I sabotaging myself this much? After all, I am an okay person. Ordinary, but okay.

I ordered new music today (her name is Calla – animal choir). And I watched two movies (untamed heart and pump up the volume) with my favourite actor (Christian Slater). I also listened to music by Coastlands (postrock from Oregon/USA), burnt down an incense stick (sandalwood) and ate pizza (prosciutto). I read a couple of pages in my book (the I undiscovered gyrl by Allison Burnett)…

Who cares?! I want you to care, to be honest, because I want you to care about me. But again, who cares about this narcissistic vanity.

Do you dream about specific colours? I am used to having dreams that repeat themselves. They used to be in a green hue. Like a green veil or fog in front of my eyes… Nowadays that fog or veil is blue, but the images I see – the pictures in my dream are still the same.

Maybe the breeze and the rain will let me fall asleep eventually anyway… Who knows?

The title of this post is French and could be translated to “the time keeps running”

*hugs*

Cathy