Goodbye Is Just A Way To Say Hello Again!

I’m here, but I’m supposed to leave in about 10, 9, 8, 7…..

 

Before I do that, my fellow bloggers, THANK YOU AND HELLO AGAIN, because GOODBYE is just another word for it!

 

I hope you will like the song!

Cheers mates!

 

 

Have fun and do forget not this small redhead Tina!

 

 

And what’s the best way to conclude my first chapter here in the WP world?!

Douglas Adams!

“God’s Final Message to His Creation:
‘We apologize for the inconvenience.”

― Douglas Adams, So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish (The Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy)

 

 

Always thought about this line as the most ultimate sarcasm on The Planet Earth, expect the Number 42, which is of course, the meaning of life, the universe, and everyhing!

Cheers and hello (goodbye)!

Have to go………………..

Tina The Mess (ouch, I’m gonna miss you).

Advertisements

I Am A Supergirl

Star Wars A Long Time Ago In A Galaxy Far, Far Away

….there was this little girl called Tina.

She always played with toy cars and boys toys.

As she grew up, just like a normal girl, she continued to play with cars, only this time, the real ones.

She had a life of remorse, misery and depression.

Once she learned that she was in fact ill, she refused that fact.

And she made a mistake.

 

Ten years later, she began to understand that the cars, her son, her cats, are not going to save her from impending doom.

 

So she asked for help.

She got medications. She got therapy.

Sometimes it worked, sometimes not.

 

So dear friends, followers and all of you reading this, I want you to know that I am going to be absent from the WP world, for a while.

 

 

Tomorrow morning I have to get into my car, and go to the institution I hate the most, where I have spent too much time.

And I have to go again, because the ugly BPD face shown itself in the worst version.

Mental health ward is awaiting me for a lovely vacation of mind.

My psych and I concluded it is the best thing to do at this point.

 

Do not forget me, and wish me luck!

 

Stay strong and happy!

Truly yours, Tina The Mess!

 

Self-Harm Replaced With Body Modifications- Tattoos And Piercings, My Experience

422772_181982368576538_100002943290070_315024_816135472_n

 

 

9ba50868448dc72c4746044ab627e508
My left forearm surface piercing.

 

Here it strikes again. I can feel it coming. I’m restless, anxious. Cannot stop thinking, walking around the flat.

I have to get out of here.

I have to go and do…something.

What will it be?

Have no idea exactly. It almost always starts with my car, engine turns on, I drive and end somewhere.

One piece of thought is scattered through my mind. Piercings, tattoos.

Luckily, it’s Saturday, so my friends do not work, but if they did, I will certainly got a new tattoo or a new piercing.

I have read somewhere, that these kind of body modifications replaces the self-harm urges, and first time I thought about it, I thought it was stupidity.

But, I have changed my mind.

It is mine compensation for the self-harm.

I admitted that to myself,but no one really understands. The people that surround me.

They think that I’m just utterly obsessed with it. Getting tattoos. Piercings.

No.

It’s something else.

It is this:

 

Tattoos, body piercing and self-harm – is there a link?
Some people say cutting their skin brings them relief from emotional pain – an act usually referred to as self-harm.
Others enjoy having their body pierced with metal and their skin inscribed with permanent ink. Is there a link between these acts? According to the German psychologists Aglaja Stirn and Andreas Hinz, in some cases there might well be.
The researchers collaborated with the body modification magazine Taetowiermagazin, recruiting 432 of their readers to complete a comprehensive questionnaire about their tattooing and piercing practices and motives.
One hundred and nineteen of the participants admitted to cutting themselves in childhood. That’s 27 per cent of the sample – a much higher proportion than is found among the general population of Germany: 0.75 per cent.
Compared with the readers who said they had never self-harmed, those who had were more likely to report “bad things” having happened in their lives, and to say they had previously had a bad relationship with their own body.
Moreover, the self-harmers reported that they often had their skin tattooed or body pierced to help overcome a negative experience, or simply to experience physical pain. Another clue that self-harm and piercing/tattooing might, in some cases, be linked, derives from the fact that many of the self-harmers said they had ceased cutting themselves after obtaining their first piercing or tattoo.
Stirn and Hinz concluded that most people who partake in body modification clearly do not do it because they have any psychological problems. “However,” they continued, “because body modifications have become so common and accessible, they are also used with probably increasing frequency as a convenient means to either realise psychopathological inclinations, such as self-injury, or to overcome psychological traumas.”
_________________________________
Stirn, A., Hinz, A. (2008). Tattoos, body piercings, and self-injury: Is there a connection? Investigations on a core  group of participants practicing body modification. Psychotherapy Research, 18(3), 326-333.
http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/10503300701506938

 

Not everyone who has tattoo’s or piercings is in this group. But, some of us are.

Dead End- Part Two, Or How To Deal With A BPD Patient

 

panda

Well, I am here.

I went to sleep, around 05:00 A.M. Gratefully and finally.

Woke up at 06:00 A.M. Ungratefully and feeling like a panda. Yeah,a PANDA.

Took a cab, because I was unwilling to drive by myself, ’cause panda’s don’t drive, do they?

Got to my psych, to find the waiting room crowded as it’s a Black Friday sale.

I just stood in the middle of the room, confused, and thinking what to do.

I consider myself as a really, really impatient person, especially when I feel like a panda, and after along night of horror movie with me as a main actress.

So, I just knocked on the door, pretending not to hear the people from the waiting room saying to me…stuff (censored, because I’m a nice and polite person).

I entered without hesitation. My psych was luckily alone, typing on the computer.

She turned around and looked at me with a looked at me as I am batshit crazy.

Well, I am. Batshit crazy. Or a panda. Choose yourself.

“What the hell happened?!”, she asked. I didn’t look in the mirror this morning, just a quick inspection to be sure that I don’t have messy hair.

That’s important, but the panda look is not.  You know, when your mascara is beautifully melted around your eyes giving you that special panda look.

“Well”, I said, “bottom down, didn’t sleep, wanted to kill someone or something, feeling like a crap, and being on the edge”. Telegraphic voice and telegraph speech.

“You sure look like that”.

“I know”. “So, what now?”.

That deep breath she took while nodding her head in disapproval was so comforting.

I was still standing. “Sit down”, she said.

“Don’t want too”.

“As you wish”, she replied annoyed.

“I can only send you right away to the hospital, for an urgency admittance, you know that?”

“Yep”.

“Do you agree?”

“Nope”.

“If you can, please help me without sending me for another three weeks of vacation in the mental ward”,I pledged.

Her smile was so sweet. I wanted to bang her in the head, although knowing she is completely right.

“Ok now…..have you done something to yourself? Planned to?”

“Sure. I was gambling with a couple of options”.

“Oh, Tina”. That deep breath again. “You have to be admitted. You look like hell”.

“A panda”, I replied.

“What? A panda?”, she asked.

“No, I’m not delusional, just sarcastic”, I whispered. “I thought you knew me by now”.

“Can we delay that admittance for a couple of days?I have things to sort out. It’s not that easy, you know?”, I said.

“It’s not easy to let go home someone who admitted self-harm intentions, I cannot do it just like that”.

Now I took a deep breath.

I knew how I looked. I knew what was happening tonight, I knew, but I just didn’t want to go…there, again

“Please”, I said. “I’ll be alright, I promise”.

The eternal silence with her looking at me,and looking, and looking…..

“Ok. Let’s do it this way. You have my number. You should have called me yesterday”.

“At midnight?!”. I was confused.

“Yes, at midnight, 3 A.M., whatever. We are changing the rules, starting now”. Her voice was full of anger. Oh, what a supporting feeling.

“You will get here tomorrow, for a checkup”.

“But…it’s Saturday tomorrow!”

“And so what? I will be here!”, she replied with growing impatience.

“Ok, ok..no problem, just to avoid that place, I’ll do anything”.

“I will prescribe you another med to the ones you already have. You know you are a complete mess, and we have to start antipsychotic again”.

Oh, joy. Again, a trip to the zombie land.

But I nodded with acceptance. I knew she was totally and completely right about it.

“You’ll start immediately. Go home, take off that panda look, and go to bed. Your cell phone will be by your bed. I will call you in the afternoon, and in the evening”.

Even my mother wouldn’t do something like that. She was never so…compassionate?

“You will?”, I asked perplexed.

“Surely and absolutely. Take a week of the work, take a week for yourself. Don’t answer to the calls, of anyone whom you think will disturb you. Just try to focus on yourself. On yourself!”.

I thought that alien replaced my psych.  This wasn’t her. She was usually cold, distant and totally uninterested.

“What happened to you?”, I asked. “You seem like another person, another psych. I have never met you!”.

She laughed.

“Tina, you are coming here so long, and you haven’t noticed anything? I do care. You problem is that you don’t feel it or see it”.

Yeah right, I thought, but in the same time I asked myself if she was in fact right.

BPD patients are hard to correlate with their doctors, often build a wall around them….I know all of that.

And I started to cry. That was an accomplishment for me. And a relief. I felt that somebody is supporting me. Really supporting me.

“Oh, come on now, it will be alright. The fact you have made it to fight yourself and come here in the morning, that’s a sign of a strength and will. You are strong. You can manage it. I am here. We will get you out of this episode, together. All right?”.

I wanted to hug her, so I did. I never ever did that to any other psych before. I felt like someone took a heavy load of me.

She accepted the hug, I felt it.

Suddenly, the peace and the feeling of hope emerged.

It takes so little to make your patient trust you and cooperate.

It takes so little, my  dear psych docs, for the BPD patient to accept you. It takes just a little of a support and understanding. So little, but so much at the same time.

I felt like floating while exiting her office. I knew someone is watching over me, and will be there. That was a tremendous step forward for me.

So, now I’m peacefull like a baby.

And I didn’t even took my meds yet. I will.

I will follow the rules this time. No rebellion like before, because she gave me what I needed.

This time, she gave me what I needed. Not the meds, but the understanding.

Thank you, my dear doc A.

You saved me from myself, and saved me from the vacation in the happy place of the mental hospital.

So guys, it seems I’ll stick around. Not going on a vacation or a longer trip to the Unknown.

I did it. I managed it, and overcome myself.

I am a strong woman, indeed.

Go to hell, you BPD. I will beat you, I know I will!

Yours truly, Tina.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dead End

 

end

Triggered and thrown into the abyss.

With stupid words. With stupid acts. With stupid people that surround me.

 

I should have left my cell phone in the sink and pour the water in. To drown it.

 

I lit up a cigarette.

 

Smoke vanishes in the air. Just like me. Vanishing.

 

What do I feel?

 

Common question. Without an exact answer. All of it. Everything. Oh my, you stupid BPD.

Anger, grief, sorrow. If I could cry (which I just cannot for a long time now), I think I would flood the city.

 

 

Instead, I’m sitting empty, alone, looking at the wall.

Smoke in the air.

Coffee.

Me. Wanting only one thing.

 

 

This story should finally reach the end.

 

Perplexed plot, insane characters, twisted turns, unbelievable chapters full of despair.

 

Smoke in the air.

I took all of my meds, as prescribed. With a touch of more Klonopin to numb me even more. It’s not working, as usual.

 

If I make it through the night, if I finally get asleep (which I also cannot), I promise myself to see my psych tomorrow.

 

I feel another couple of days or weeks coming, in the, oh so well-known,  surrounding with white walls and full-time insanity.

 

If I make it.

Smoke. Vanishing.

 

 

“..Laecheln…… sanfte Rueckkehr….
….Traenenlos versinkend……
…..Schau zurueck friedvoll…
….Wenn die Daemmerung erwacht…

……Vieles bleibt vergessen…..
……Verschwommen und zerschellt…..
……An den leichten Momenten…….
……Dem Wellenschlage gleich…….ueberm Meer…”

 

 

Lost By My Own Will

Floating

 

I couldn’t resist, it was the full moon, warm summer evening. I sat in the car and drove.
Just drove true the night.

 

Just drove, to get lost.

 

Music loud, windows down, feeling of freedom and that special scent of summer night.
Mixture of fresh grass, asphalt, ozone after rain, and gasoline.

 

Me and my car, one entity, driving and exploring, leaving the world behind.
Thoughts, emotions, blended into one bubble that would never burst.

I stopped by some unknown woods, and there was that meadow, barely seen through the dark.

 

I knew I’m lost, somewhere, but it was really what I needed.

 

I left the car, and sat down on the grass, slightly wet from the afternoon rain, just catching the moment,and wishing it would never end. Moon above me, stars, no cloud in the dark skies above me, not even one.

 

And then, there it came. Two falling meteors, one following the other.

I laughed, echoing in the surrounding silence, and thought about making a wish, but why?
I had everything I needed in that perfect frozen time moment.

 

Only one thing remained empty. The place beside me.
The person with I could share the moment stolen from time.
No regrets, though.
If it should be empty, then be it.

 

I leaved all of it, driving back to the familiar roads.
But my mind stayed there, like in the movie that would stay forever imprinted, with no subtitles, no ending, and with no beginning.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/wrong-turns/

pad2014

The Joyride Of Guest Blogging

butterflies

 

I said “Wow!”, when I saw the invitation from Opinionated Men to be a Guest Blogger on The Harsh Reality Blog, which has followers more than a small city.

Because, guys and girls, I’m a newbie here, a beginner, a new girl in the town!

Was that a feeling of honour? You cannot imagine how big it was for me. The Big one!

I trembled as a little girl in the class, trying to get the best out of me, since the teacher is harsh,and I don’t wanted a full embarrassment.

This time not in the front of the class, but in front of almost 40,000 followers (39,185 to be exact)!

 

I wrote the five post, as we agreed.

I did proofreading on each post probably around one thousand times.

I did spell checking, rephrasing, re-reading.

I banged my head at the desk when I found an error in the fifth reading.

Guys, it was hard!

But it was a joyride as well. A whole new experience! And I liked it A LOT!

It was like a trip in a foreign unknown country, not knowing what to expect!

The backpack travel, full of enthusiasm.

 

The response from the Harsh Reality blog / City, was amazing.

 

And, why did I wrote this post anyway?

Not to brag myself.

I wanted to thank you all who read what I write (my blah-blah’s), and comment and like and re-blog…just wanted to say to all of you

THANK YOU!

And a big thanks to Opinionated Men ( http://aopinionatedman.com/), for giving me a great challenge.

A new girl in town is happy!

And now the bragging part, sorry guys I just have too! LOL!

1. http://aopinionatedman.com/2014/06/28/guest-post-how-and-when-to-tell-your-boyfriend-or-girlfriend-that-you-have-bpd/

2. http://aopinionatedman.com/2014/06/28/guest-post-borderline-personality-disorder-the-tour-ride/

3. http://aopinionatedman.com/2014/06/26/guest-post-borderline-personality-disorder-or-bpd-what-is-that/

4. http://aopinionatedman.com/2014/06/26/guest-post-borderline-personality-disorder-meet-the-diagnostics-criteria/

5. http://aopinionatedman.com/2014/06/26/guest-post-borderline-personality-disorder-from-a-personal-point-of-view/

 

And now,one of my favourite posts from OM (Opinionated Men):

http://aopinionatedman.com/2014/06/27/for-men-only-10-ways-to-get-out-of-an-argument/

– For Men Only – 10 Ways to get Out of an Argument.

Read it! Joy, joy!

 

So, this is it.

My tour in the Harsh City has ended with a happy feeling of butterflies in my stomach.

No, I didn’t eat them! They appeared suddenly, and I hope they will stay for a while!

 

 

 

 

 

The Serenity Of Remorse

girl

I will set free two, maybe three words,

To slide down my cheeks.

 

I do not want to steal the future time anymore,

I will rather leave,

And keep the honor guard

For the dead thoughts.

 

One day I will escape utterly,

And leave an empty void for the last wish.

The autumn sky will be hidden by the gap of emptiness,

And death.

 

Then, with the move of an experienced gambler,

I will pull the rope around the neck,

Of nonexistent, faint body.

 

I will let two or three words,

To flow with the content down my cheeks.

 

Thus, comforted, I will go to meet Him,

To appraise the remorse of the revealed pledge,

Sliding slowly down my face.

At the bottom. Not swimming, but drowning in the misery of the BPD.

I haven’t been posting, for a while.

Why?

I broke, fell apart, sinked to the bottom.

I don’t remember exactly what was I doing for the two past days. It’s a fog of memories.

Mostly I slept not to feel. Not to do anything….to myself.

I thought of ending it once and for all, I couldn’t bear it anymore.

So I took a pill after pill after pill, until I was totally numb and fell asleep.

Did it helped? No. I was looking for a help, my psych is on vacation, I called The Crisis Center,but it didn’t help too much.

They said, that I have to go to my psych hospital (second home,as I call it), but I did not. I don’t want to end there, again. It is three weeks since I left the psych ward, I cannot imagine myself being there locked up, again.

I was, I am still in fact, a wreck.

Going from feeling useless, failure, to self harm thoughts, to suicidal thoughts.

From crying to feeling nothing at all. Empty and numb.

I tried to talk to my family, but they did more harm than good. Our talk ended up in the verbal fight, as my mother, again, tried to be persuasive with her constant and annoying repeating words of how I am overreacting, and do I know how does it make her feel.

Yeah mum, I know. I have been your burden too long. But you have never ever said a word that could make me feel better.

My mum has an amazing power of turning my cries for help into her own misery.  If I feel bad, she makes it even worse, by making me feel guilty and responsible for all the problems in the world. Thanks, mum.

At this moment, I have no clue what to do next. Or better said,what will I do…next.

I’m sorry, but this battle is becoming to hard to fight it.

I feel I have no strength or reasons to fight.

The end.

 

The Worst Hours In My Broken Life

images

Strange unknown house. My not-so-good friend party, birthday or whatsoever. Didn’t bother me too much, the occasion I mean. I was there, that was all that counted.

Boring to the bone.
Waiting to leave, unnoticed, without asking and answering stupid questions.

I was lost in the crowd with unfamiliar people, drinking my mojito, third, fourth, who counts anyway, looking for the door.
Tried to push myself to the limit of toleration of surrounding noise. The moment I felt my thoughts messed up, my head about to explode, I was seeking the way out.
No goodbye to anyone, just wanted to disappear without the trace.

I walked through the crowd, head down. No one noticed me, I was invisible, the state which is able to achieve if you know how. Blended into surrounding mess, words, polite chats. Awful.

As I entered the hallway, darkness surrounded me. I remembered where the entrance and the front door were. But there was complete blackness around. No lights at all. I was completely blind. Put my hand into the purse looking for my cell phone..but nothing.

Fuck, I thought.Fuck, fuck. Where is the fucking light? The switch?! Anything!?.

My purse filled up with thousand unnecessary things.
Like all the woman’s bags, you could survive the World War III with the content of the bag. Felt the lipstick under my fingers, car keys, wallet, everything and nothing useful.

I broke with anger, yelling at myself, thinking about entering that gray party zone again..I was so desperate.

And then.. that sound behind me.

Like a soft whisper. Like a tip toe walking towards me from behind.

“Hello?”, I asked.

No answer.

Sound again, this time, breathing, slow, deep breaths, almost touching my neck.

I could feel chills down the spine. My hands started to shake. I wasn’t scared, I was horrified.

There was someone. Breathing behind me. I could feel his presence, the warmth that was getting closer and closer.

“What do you want? Who is it!?”. No answer. Silence, thick and heavy, you could smell it, the fear, the horror, you could slice it with a knife.

And then..there it was.

Hand on my mouth. Hand around my waist, felling pulled away.

Wanted to yell, I couldn’t, wanted to bite, I couldn’t, wanted to fight, I couldn’t. He was too strong.

Heard the door squeak as they opened. He turned me around like a doll, pushed me somewhere.
There were dimming lights penetrating the window blinds.
It was a room. Messy place. Smell of wine, cigarettes..
He pushed me again, hard, hurting my hand. I screamed this time, but who was able to hear me?!

I landed on the bed, trying to stand up, to get away, to run..I felt nothing but my heart beating way through the chest.

His arms took my wrists, hard. ” You’re hurting me! Let go of me! You motherfucker!” Words flowed out of me with no respond.

I couldn’t breathe as he simply lie down on me. He, heavy as a rock, lied, and hurting me, I tried to move, with every muscle, with every drop of my remaining energy, freaking out.
I just couldn’t. Not an inch.

“I was waiting for this, for so long….”, whispered in my ear, distant, cold, unknown voice.

I started crying. This wasn’t happening Not to me. Not to me. Not to me!! It was just a dream I repeated to myself, just a nightmare, I should wake up any second now. Any second, I thought…

But i didn’t.

I felt him. Completely. Tearing my clothes away, mumbling something in a distance..

His face, barely visible, not recognizable, and mine, filled with terror, met inches away. I could feel his breath on my face.

“You want it. You wanted it. I know”, he said.

“No!!!” Screaming didn’t sound like my voice, more like a sound of the hurt animal brought to slaughter.

I felt hopeless. Felt tied down. Defeated. Wanted to give up.
My mind wandered somewhere, far, far away.
I thought if it must be, please God, let it be quick.
Tears rolling down my face, I was trembling with frailty. So vulnerable, so fragile.
So not me.

Then…

All around came the light, hurting my eyes. Someone came into the room.

“What the fuck!”. Remote voice, through the fog of misery.

He jumped. Literally jumped out of the bed.

I lay down for a while, unable to move. Felt someones hands helping me to get up. To get dressed. Wiping my tears.

As police came, and ambulance, I don’t remember a thing. I spoke something, do not remember what, shaking.

Driving to the hospital, the lights of the ambulance car and sirens.. distant. Felt as nothing of this was happening to me. Felt aloof and empty. Just an empty shell. Every inch of my body hurt. Body? That was not my body anymore.

Three days later, 18 stitches later, numberless consultations and answering..I went home.

He was brought to prison, that much I know. And got out for a minimum number of months. Physical assault, good beahviour.

Unlike his, my prison and burden never left me. I buried it deep inside, where no one can see it. It digs up his way out sometimes, but I beat it.

And now, this is me. Beating it up now, in this time, but not when I should do it. Because I couldn’t think then.

I was old me again..after a countless months.

An that is what I call my triumph, to overcome myself.

Parents, who the hell invented them in the first place?!

 

Short and sweet this will be.

Like would master Yoda say, you own path go must. Ignore the stupid as better you can do.

That’s a comment to a conversation my mother and I had today.

Like two monkeys, not understanding what the other one said.

 

I could also speak Chinese, it would make no difference to her. She has a tremendous way of understanding me.  She just doesn’t,  but she thinks she does, so it turns in a one big argument conversation without the conclusion or ending.

I feel drenched and angry. Facepalm for her winning again,and leaving me feel like a crap.

 

51512052

 

 

Rebel

Camus-Rebel

 

“I choose my own destiny!”

That’s such a common phrase, that gets me laughing every time I hear it.

What the f…. k can you choose? You are buried down with your own thoughts, worries, everyday obligations that just need to be done! That’s it! Nothing more, nothing less!

There is no excuse for your obligations, in your so-called ” life”. There are no choices!

No excuses for not going to work even if you feel and think that you’d rather stay home.

You must stay “responsible” and execute your obligations as they come.

Every morning when I woke up, and barely pull out myself out of the bed, I sincerely ask myself, where the hell I lost my last ten years? A whole decade?!

Flushed down the toilet, wasted and thrown away. Wasted on others and for the others.

I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror.

Hopeless face that has come to the final conclusion.

You don’t choose anything!

Everything else chooses you. And there’s nothing, absolutely nothing you can do about it.

Of course, you can decide for yourself if you’re gonna wear that pair of shoes today or not… but that’s so irrelevant.

The big life choices and decisions, oh, you thought you made it yourself?!

Do not be stupid! You were probably influenced by people surrounding you, your community and way of life that is „prescribed“ to you.

We are just a mass of entities, like an ant farm, running around, unable to see the bigger picture.

The more you run, the more you bury yourself into the every day’s happenings, the more you become detached from life and from yourself.

I am detached. It’s kinda floating feeling. Acting as a robot, just doing stuff that need to be done.

And the real Me? Cuddled somewhere deep inside waiting… not knowing what am I waiting for.

But I do know one thing.

There is no f…g way to get out of the line that just keeps leading you further and further. No stopping, just moving forward. Walking straight, you with the rest of the herd.

If you think that you are not the same kind and you’re somehow different, you are so deeply wrong.

The truth, the meaning of the life is not available to us, common people. We are just wanderers keeping what we need to keep, doing what we must do, and NOT what we want to do.

You can call yourself a Rebel, someone who will just push and overcome all of the boundaries and rules of the society, to live a life-like you really want to.

Wanna be a rebel ?! Come on, play the role!  You will not last for a day. This game of life has rules! First of all, obedience! If you fight against it, you want last for a day.

I thought that this mind retrospective would be a positive one. But, I do realize now that it is not either positive or negative.

It is just REAL.

Albert Camus said :”The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion“.

I tried and I failed.

But, at least – I tried!

Did you try, ever?!

The Boy

 

Snow

 

One winter morning, a boy woke up.

He was not any particular boy, or the morning was in any way special.

He knew it was Christmas, but he had long ceased to believe in the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, St. Nicholas, and everything else that makes a kid feel like a kid.

Under the Christmas tree stood a gift. He knew what he got. He felt no happiness or joy. He didn’t care. At all.

 

Mom was still asleep. It was early in the morning.

The boy took his favorite books about dragons, made himself some warm milk, and read.

 

Outside, it was snowing.

He wondered if maybe later he’ll go out, but even for that he had no will.

He read and enjoyed his imaginary world.

Where there is no contention, grief, loss, illness and tears.

 

For his age, he had seen too much.

He decided to open a gift when mom woke up.

He will fake joy and play with her.

He knew she was looking forward to it. Knew she loved him so much to the point of the physical pain.

When he was telling her that he loves her, then the tears came. She cried for because of so much love she had.

 

But the boy was in pain because she was always sad. Even while she was laughing with him, while they watched movies, drawing, he could feel some void inside her.

He knew why. He was just a child, but not in his mind. He knew.

 

When she wakes up, he’ll make coffee. That would cheer her up.

 

His friend Fred called to meet with him this afternoon. To play outside, in the snow.

He refused. He did not like to leave the mother alone. He loved to be with her, every possible moment he had.

Maybe mum did not know how he sees everything. How he feels everything.

Despite being just a child, he learned to suppress emotions. Just like mother did.

Their grief turned into something invisible but always present and touchable, like a soap balloon ready to burst.

 

He replaced this surrounding grief world, with his own, in whom dragons ruled, moms didn’t cry, didn’t have to take medications, and moms never had to leave home. Sometimes she was gone for days, weeks.

It didn’t make a difference if he knew where mum left. When she returned, she was different and changed, less sad, but always brought that bubble again with her. Invisible, yet touchable.

 

He did not want to change anything. He knew that everything would be fine. He just to be there, for her, for him.

To be good. To laugh. Tell her that he loves her. Every day.

It didn’t matter, he had only eight years, and he understood very well that life is not easy.

Does not always bring what you want. That ugly thing occurs.

 

Once, a long time ago, he had a father. Now he had an only mother, occasionally in rare moments.

There were times when he asked her something, but she didn’t reply, she just stared at the wall, empty and silent. Sometimes for hours.

He got accustomed to it.

He got accustomed to such a way of life. Mother was all he had, anyway.

 

He decided to go out with Fred.

Mom will be fine.

 

Yet, today is Christmas. Maybe, just maybe, Santa heard and fulfilled him one wish that he never, ever told anyone. He did not want to admit this wish even to himself.

But it was the wish from the deepest place in his small child heart.

All he wanted was Christmas morning full of laughter, favorite vanilla cookies mum used to bake. And a family.

 

He knew that it was probably too much to ask. So he returned to his book, to that what was real for him.

Red Fire Dragon. War in the story land, dragons and elves…

And outside, it was snowing. And it was Christmas. And the mom was still asleep.

 

 

Who’s gonna save my soul now?

Track 1
Nordschleife – Nürburgring, Germany

 

1. I have never been in NYC, and I always wanted to

2. I have never made it to the Nurburgring and Nordschleife and drove a real sports car

3. I have never been on F1 race

4. I have never been on an exotic island with white sand beaches and perfect blue see

5. I have never been truly loved for who I am

6. I have never been proposed to marriage

7. I have never had one more child like I wanted to

8. I haven’t left my country and took a job in Ireland, although I was supposed to

9. I haven’t taken all the opportunities that I could

10. I didn’t have a life-like I wanted it

 

The pills

 

 

The pills

Little ones, big ones
Yellow and white
Making my breakfast bitter
Following me through the day
Reminding me
It is time for a yellow one
It is time for the both of us
It is time.

I do not need a clock.
Pills are my daily guidance.

I hate them so much
That I even can’t look
At the Smartie’s
In the store.

You Are Who You Are, Why Change?

AUDIOSLAVE – BE YOURSELF

 

We are all born into this world different in a perfect genetic chaos, making us unique. Unless, you of course have a twin brother or a sister, then you might consider yourself a little bit not unique.

If the universe wanted it the other way, we would all like the same music, dress the same way, are thoughts would be the same, our lives would be exactly the same.

But the nature itself tends to the chaotic state. It’s natural to be chaotic, to be different than the others who surround you.

I often question myself, what would happen’ if I really accept a long-term psychotherapy and completely change my mindset, my behaviour, my relationships with other people?

Would it still be me? Or someone else?

I know a guy with BPD for many years. When he reached the bottom, and searched for help, he undergo the process of a long psychotherapy sessions.

He is not the same person anymore.

We are still friends, but some of his reactions, sentences, the way he sees the world, is fully changed. I disagree with him a lot. And our friendship is not what it used to be.

In a way, a lost a friend.

I’m glad for him because he leads a normal life, with minor problems now and then, but I would never accept changing myself into someone else.

Sorry, I was born this way. I apologize for all my mistakes, bad manners, harsh words. I did the wrong this in my life. I hurt people, and I am sorry because of that.

But the others have hurt me as well, in a worse and more terrible way then I have done to anybody, ever!

Have they been sent to the psychiatrist? No.

So I choose to by myself.

The way I am.

I have changed only one thing: I brought a lot of kindness, empathy and love towards the others.

My character, though, didn’t change.

If you’re messing with me, it’s not gonna end well for you.

If you are kind to me, I’ll be kind to you.

My personality is who I am, but my attitude depends on you!

That’s why I posted this song.

It says it all.

“Someone finds salvation in everyone
And another only pain
Someone tries to hide himself
Down inside himself he prays
Someone swears his true love
Until the end of time
Another runs away
Separate or united?
Healthy or insane?

To be yourself is all that you can do!”

 

 

The Coffee, The Pen And The Gun

#TRIGGER WARNING!#

 

coffee and a gun

 

I had a cup of coffee, then two

I took a pen and wrote some notes on the paper

About the future, about the past

I wrote a letter to someone who will care enough to read it

I even draw a picture of the world as I see it

Just a black sheet of emptiness.

 

I don’t like guns

But I feel safe when I have one around

As being attacked too many times in my life

I always bear that feeling of threat incoming towards me.

 

The coffee, the pen and the gun.

I used only two of them.

The third stayed untouched.

 

For how long?

It’s a Mad World, Indeed

 

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I’m dying
Are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It’s a very, very mad world mad world….”

 

Isn’t it a truly Mad World?

Beautiful song, awesome lyrics.

Like it? Do you find yourself in the lyrics as I do?