Thank you so much for the nomination and the kind words
The sound of broken glass
That feeling, everyone writes on twitter and instagram. It`s one word describing the essence of the unspeakable, the undescribed feelings and moods that live in their own right, without any nametags pulling them down. I got one of them right now. The clock is 07.01 in the morning, and I have been awake for a hour. I streched and curled a bit before I counted to three and flung myself out in the cold winter air. I was more tired that usual, but knew that would be history one proper breakfast later. I went upstairs, now with some semblence of clothes wrapping me, and opened the door. My little Amadeus didn`t come home yesterday, so I crossed my fingers and hoped he would start mewing in annoyance and happiness both. He wasn`t there
I left the door half-open and the lights on, even the blanket and food I put out yesterday, stayed where it was. Disappointed I turned my attention to other tasks, like putting the kettle on and checking my phone for messages. The kettle was easy enough, and usually the checking-part is too, but apparently not when tiredness still hasn`t said vaporized. I have gone through that moment several times in my mind already, so it should be pretty clear as I describe it: I lift my lovely white Iphone, so new and innocent, and am just about to grab it properly, when something goes wrong. It starts sliding out of my hand and I follow its path down to the floor while thinking «oh no» simultanusly as I try to catch it mid-air. My normal table-tennis reflexes were turned off by mr. tiredness, so I could just watch with horror as it slowly fell and fell, until it fell no more but just lied there, still. I secretly crossed my mental fingers one more time as I reached down to check for damage, hoping that like before, it did not break when it touched the floor. I had a bad feeling though, and was rewarded with my guts being right one more time: Small cracks over half its face, scarred forever.
Thats when I got «that feeling», that you only get when something valuable breaks. The intensity of it, was modulated by my fix-it thoughts, but it still lingered inside of me. Its not the first time something in my closest vicinity breaks, and even if I normally handle it with: «Well, life goes on», those episodes keep piling up, building an prison over my feeling of happiness. I know: «Dont cry over spilt milk» and I don`t, but its allowed to have this feeling, just for a little bit, before you let go and focus on what still’s there.
PTSD, the black, sterile letters from the screen are screaming. The clock is 13.30, and a dark something has been sliding between our feet, where it slipped past us silently. Light and dark has always been in conflict with each other, so much that the other colors were miffed by coating of the void left after the fight. It’s impossible to win a war that never had the possibility of victory in its programming, impossible to learn something good from something that’s wrong.
Hours pass by relentlessly, and 8 days has gone since I sat in a meeting-room, learning yet again how wrong everything can go, how madness lurks behind every corner of safety. It’s the bomb exploding when you really tried to step at the right places, the unspeakable acts of people who should be your protectors. Trauma strikes before and after you take a breath, it’s real dangers in its unpredictability, in the soft caress of your skin before a slap, the sudden death where life was moments before. When our mind can’t make sense of it, it leaves you grasping for meaning in something that’s just chaos.
Every one of us have their stories, rarely we go through life without feeling pins pricking our skin. Most of it heal and hide the marks, but some wounds bleed again or the needles strike you at another piece of skin. In my work I’ve encountered different kind and types of wounds. Some still bleed their hurt, some of them are on the brink of reopening and some healed the wrong way, and must be healed one more time. People bear them in different ways and on different parts of their bodies, some visible, some under layers of clothes and some covered by make-up. My job is about this healing process, always searching for hidden ones, making sure their healing properly and keeping them free from infections that threaten the organism. It’s even more important for me to be sterile, so that I make sure that I offer a safe haven to open and plaster the wounds.
Life has been stable in its instability the last two weeks. I keep longing for something lost, and having a hard time resisting whispering thoughts trying to tell me there’s hope.
It’s not long since his arms where there, resting over my shoulder. It’s not long since the beats of his heart reached the ear I placed on his chest. It’s not so long since I felt safe there, and I had the feeling that no matter what happened around me, I would be fine, if I just could lay still and hear the thumping sounds of life running through him. To let go of that safety is pain, it’s trusting that I will do the same thing again, with somebody else. Sometimes it’s hard to believe: How do you replace love that you gave everything for? How do you find the energy and will to use it once again? It’s not that I think somebody else is the only was to happiness, more that I know how good it can be to really love someone and being loved in return. I have so much to give and I hope somebody out there will awake the possibility of me releasing it again.
Ikkje alle er like godt stilt, hjelp der du kan!
This is already a wonderful day, even if I was torn out of sleep by kids ex exercising their finger muscles on my door bell. I tried to hide in the shadow as I opened because of my frankenstein’s face mask, but by their swift disappearance, I’m not sure I managed. They brought a present; My snow-White mate for life, little Amadeus. He’s been naughty as usual, but wasnt away for long this time, and that wasnt to bad either, since I had a visitor yesterday.
Today I’m going to Bergen together with Helene. The anticipation is brimming: I will see my psycholgy Friends, my sister, my best friend and a lot of other Friends, and will in addition to that play boardgames, maybe Even Resistance, which is the best social game ever made that I know of! I have also done a lot lately, for example met a lot of warm and inspiring psychologist, organized things for my group (am now planning a hike to a cabin) and read about mentalization. I’ve had the best chatts, and talked a lot with an amazing guy. Can’t believe my luck, it was worth fighting away the hurt, rejection and dissapointment that lingered from the bad choices I made. I feel free, and will devour every bit of life with vigor. I have so many good things now: Wonderful and caring friends in many cities, a great family, the best job where I help the nicest people find their inner beauty, all the things I need, and my Italian course, that produce goose-bumps when I discover yet another beautiful word that gives my ear another reason to listen to magic.
Remember this: even if everything is as bad as it can be, you will get the price in the end. Or like my mother said; Nothing is so bad that it can’t be fixed. I believe that, and if you don’t, listen to my and others stories, and don’t forget you’ve felt good before.
People are afraid of it all. Tiny little creatures crawling on the floor, rooms where space is limited, certain thoughts and triggers evoking them, and not least: Humans. How they smile while holding a dagger behind their back, how you curl yourself up for protections from their harsh words, and how you think about jumping over the edge both in happiness and sorrow.
Pain has always been an anguish for me. When I felt it, I felt it intensely , no matter if it was physical or psychological. I tried all the strategies that I had then, to strangle it: Soothing, thinking, hiding, words that promised another and better life, mechanisms of short-term survival that did their job there and then. It worked, until new Pain knocked on my door.
New days always bring with it something else, whether its pain or joy. Its full of unknown events that always surprise you, its full of twists that`s impossible to predict, and it`s also full of strong emotions, also good ones. They are the champions presenting another reason to free your nerves from their cages, so that they can touch every aspect of it with its tiny, fast fingers.
Today also hide secrets, known only to the special few: The knowledge collected from your personal narrative. Some of the best and the worst, and lot of in-betweens. It’s the kiss you had from that special one, making you dizzy and happy to be alive, it’s the first time you stumbled, but got picked up again by a stranger, gentle and caring. It’s the tears brimming over from disappointment and loss, but thanking you for their release. This pendulum swings back and forth, like a lot of things in life. Its homeostasis, not of temperature or drug-tolerance, but of feelings. It’s the principle of balance that keeps tugging us back in a new direction, never static. Almost like the universe itself. Sometimes the pulling is stronger, and the movement leads to others moving, too. It’s the boomerang coming back, with something new on its surface from where it travelled. The air we breath in is never the same as before, it changes but does it job perfectly, all the same. We humans are even more magnificent. After change, we mostly learn and are even better adapted for emotions yet to arrive. Because they will resurface and try to pull you under water, make you cry for help and struggle with panic. But remember: You won`t drown if you remember to swim the right way, and be calm while you do it.
Etter å ha elska og ligge tett i dynene, som om vi prøvde å stryke avtrykka våre av ut av kroppane til den andre, gjekk eg til vindauget. Å leva sju-åtte år utan klokke, gjer noko med ein. Eg går til vindauget, sjølv om det er kveld og november. Det er noko med måten lyset ligg på som gjer at eg kan lesa tida ganske godt.
Eg kjende augene hennar i ryggen. Kanskje tenkte ho på om akkurat den ryggen er sterk nok til å bere oss gjennom det ein skal gjennom. Kanskje såg ho etter avtrykk av hendene sine.
Kva ser du?
Ho sa ikkje:
Kva ser du på?
Kvar gong ho stilte slike opne spørsmål, kjende eg på kva det var å elska. Her, denne kvelden, ved vidauget på soverommet, der det låg ein pakke Pinex og eit par øyredobber i karmen, kjende eg det og…
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This week`s been really busy, so I did not get the chance to update my blog here. Will try to start on my third part of the narrative, soon. I can just tell you, very briefly, that my ex-boyfriend survived the storm. He was safer than I thought, but while nature showed its scary face, I did not know that. I woke after a nightmare at 4.30 in the morning, checked my email with a pounding hearth, and felt relief ripping through me, when I saw everything was okay.
For people who want to see pictures, or who can read norwegian, I have updated my Norwegian blog: La vita e bella. The name stems from my love to the Italian language and culture, its a celebration of the good in life, and I am much more optimistic in that one, than in this, which is much more honest and true than my Norwegian counterpart.
So: Here it is! If you have any questions, feel free to ask 🙂