Narrative of my life: Part 2

Posted on September 29, 2012 Updated on September 29, 2012

Some days just makes you think. Not just any thoughts, like ‘I wonder what dinner should be’, but thoughts of reflection. I’m not always sure if this is good, sometimes it feels like it would have been so much easier if I just cut the conscious part of myself, away for a while.

I have just come from a 2-day course about psychology. At the end of the day it felt too much, sometimes all this talk about anxiety, depression and stress just gets me, even when I am touched to tears by the compassion in certain people. I always feel lucky when I think of how far I’ve come, but eventually the other side of the equation kicks in.

I started on my narrative some days ago, and it still chills me a bit when I ponder why I don’t remember much from my earlier life. What would I be without the pictures, stories and memories that points to how it maybe was? I always get bit stressed when I see movies portraying this: How is it to form your identity from scratch? Like I wrote last time, many times when I think back its with shame. How could I be so self-sentered?

I used to live in the world of books and felt comfortable there. I really lived in the world where the characters were. I remember very little about the books now, it’s in a haze, and its like I never read them at all. In the start of school I loved reading, and I have kept that interest even when we started analyzing books and in my opinion cutting their magic away. It’s like eating a delicious meal and afterwards hearing that what you ate was a combination of something healthy and disgusting. A friend told me, before I went to China, to eat first and ask afterwards if I wanted to keep my sanity. This element was central for my well-being. The songs I learned and thought I understood were just childish miming far away from reality. That’s how you start believing in fairy castles and strangeness. In fact, after hearing some of my favorite songs later, I was kind of disappointed sometimes, it was always much simpler than once thought.

School was okay, for the most time. I was never one of the cool girls, and kept to the two same girls for the 9 years I went there. It’s like that in small places, the structure designs itself, and maybe I ,participated more in creating it than I ever knew. Again, I was the domineering queen. I decided a lot of stuff: that we should form a club where we wrote about the environment, without noticing the weak response I did get. I took the lead, and found it natural. I planned, organized and came with bright ideas. Must probably have been a real pAin, but I was blissfully unaware. I think I was 12 or 13 when I started in the scout group, after some sorry attempts at what we call 4h. I don’t even remember what the letters were for, just that I did not particularly like it. We were ‘forced’ to have meetings, do tasks, and have a party with sketches. I am a bad actress, and will probably never be happy in the limelight. It’s like all my flaws, and I felt I had more than most, suddenly got even more obvious. Like I remember it, response was seldom given at anything I did, no matter how hard I tried. When I think back now, my memories might have been colored by untruth, but now That I know my mother lived in constant depression (she said a black veil hung over her the moment she came home) it’s not completely unlikely. From my mother I learned that happiness should and could be measured in cleanness and how fast you cleaned it. I can remember that is was fun, though, especially when we did things together, like sorting socks.

My scout group gave me all I longed for, and more. I once again came in leader roles, but now in natural way that I thrived in. I can just sum it up: I felt great, just said what I thought, laughed, made up funny songs with my friend, and became the famous story-teller. I also began falling in love at that time. It was sweet and wonderful, and added a flavor that made the ingredients of life irresistible. Kindergarten has all been about playing; the bits of heaven consisted of time in the sandbox and on the swings. Higher, faster, better. The heavens in my teens was made of heart-beats, giggles and my first kiss. It’s not obvious to me why this was so important for me, my parents were not a particularly loving couple, but my mother and I used to watch dramas on the tv all the time, and romance and feelings was the meaning of it all. This I adopted easily, because love was all that is, something I still believe and live by.

There are so many small stories to tell about a life, but I can only choose some, and hope it represents my story in some ways. Sometimes I’m surprised when I talked with old friends and family-members and something new suddenly enters my consciousness. Some weeks ago, at a conference, I at herring, that I normally stay away from. At that time I thought: Why not? As the taste landed on my tastebuds and entered the smelling part of my brain, I memory suddenly came alive. I remembered how my grandfather always ate this, and this was so precious to me. He was an icon for love and care, and to forget our time together, or denying them access, feels like losing valuable possessions. A similar thing actually happened some ours ago. I was sitting in the bus taking me home, with my eyes sleepy and closed, when I suddenly remember the feeling of sitting behind the sofa, looking up. We had a red leather one, and I sat there, feeling small but also protected. When I think about it I’ve been the opposite of claustrophobic; Tiny or dark places attracted me: It was just for me and I owned the space there and then.

As I am Rolling back at fort on memory lade, in a nostalgic pace, I suddenly starting about you: The reader. Maybe it’s confusing to follow my train of thoughts, or even a bit tiring. I want to thank you for sticking to it so far, especially since my grammar probably has some hiccups here and there. I will also make this the natural way to end this part, and will as promised before, continue at a steady pace.

Like always, I appreciate feedback, especially constructive and concrete one like: don’t write so much, or detailed or I especially disliked/liked THAT part. I think I’m quite good at using feedback in a good way, even when it points to things I need to work with, so always feel free to say what you think!