Tis the season to be…

golly.

Happy Holliday’s everyone! I hope you all have a few happy days to wrap up 2015 and that you (unlike me) can get into the Christmas (insert another holiday here) spirit. I don’t know what it is this year…maybe it’s the oddly mild weather (over 50 degrees!!!)or being another year away from the bigger side of my family… I am just not feeling the Christmas vibes. But if I really think about it, I haven’t been in a true Christmas spirit since we moved here, or more like it, since my grandparents passed away in the beginning of this century.

I’ve been really trying to get into it, because it can be truly magical.

courchevel-magical-christmas-week-396(Picture: Courchevel Travel)

I’ve been listening daily to Christmas music since the beginning of December. All the good stuff that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Dean Martin and various Choirs.

bing-crosby-frank-sinatra-christmas-dvd(Picture: tvworthwatching.com)

Alas, tonight is Christmas Eve and…nadda. I hope I can jump out of this muck this time next year.

I heard that giving your children a magical Christmas is better than being a kid at Christmas. So maybe when I (finally) have kids of my own, it will be better. Quoting one of my favourite Christmas Classics, “Lovely, glorious, beautiful Christmas, upon which the entire kid year revolve(s)”.

How about you guys? Are you in the holiday spirit?

Rollercoaster ride of feels

Hello World, it has been a while. So much has happened since my last post. In my world, as with the whole world. Where should I even start?

I guess I will start with something bright before I get down to the nitty gritty. Now this is something not many might know, I have kept it out of all social media for the simple reason as to keeping it to a select few (and Facebook does not need to know everything, now do they?). Anywho, drum roll please! I got married!

Yes my fellow bloggers, I took the plunge! Got me my own set of ball and chains, as some might say. It has been over 5 months now and I must say, nothing much has really changed. We like to call each other husband and wife, I took on his name and he went into a better tax class. That’s about it. But you know what? That is just fine and dandy with me! Why you might ask?

Well, because we were and still are extremely happy together. I guess that is the benefit of marrying your best friend. I still wake up every morning, look at him and smile. No, scratch that. The was totally romanticising it. I truly hate mornings, so there is no way I will be smiling when I get ripped out of my lovely dream state. It’s the nights that do it for me. The time I pretty much look forward to the whole day. Once we finally get into our comfy bed and are just…together. At that moment, all the crap from the day, all the stress and worries just melt away. Us together like that makes everything better.

So after all that warm and gushiness, I will proceed onto the not so happy stuff. As some of you may know from my earlier (yet few) posts, I am very politically opinionated. So there are some things, of course, that I cannot let go. Paris. Now I won’t go into the specifics, I am guessing that everyone who reads blogs naturally has access to the internet and are not hermits who have never heard of the attacks. So let me cut straight the chase. It is not okay to generalise. It makes me sick to my stomach to see the nastiness that I have either read or heard that has come from this attack. It is NOT okay to blame the refugees, this is the same terror they are fleeing from. If anything, we should be more ready to help them, seeing we have now experienced (on a very small scale) what they have seen and been through. If people are fleeing the only home they know, you can not turn your backs on them. It is NOT okay to blame Islam. Just because the terrorist group has Islamic State in their name, does not mean they represent all Islamists. Or is it okay to blame all Christians for what happened in their history? Give me a break. I know people love to have scapegoats, but it’s crap. It is just feeding the hate that is tearing the world apart. Hate will never get us any where good.

Bombing (insert country name here) isn’t the solution either. This isn’t a whole country doing this, these are a select few from all over the world. Bombing supposed terrorist camps might kill a couple of them for now, but I bet you, by killing civilians (which will always happen, which is not okay by the way) there will just be more springing up in their places. I don’t understand why people keep forgetting history.

No, I do not have a solution to rid the world of these acts of hate. But I do know we have to find a LONG TERM SOLUTION to prevent future hate groups from forming (and it is NOT more surveillance and data mining!!!). Try education for one. People who join these groups most likely do not have the best education at hand. They are being fed information that convince them that all western countries are evil. If people in these poorer countries are given a real education, an open and unbiased education, I will bet you that there would not be as many people ready to join them. I have always said that right education is the answer to a lot of the worlds problems.

Okay. I got that out of me. I’m sorry to those of you whom have gotten this far that this post is so long and…rollercoasty. But to be completely honest…this is kinda how it always is in my head. Scatterbrained. Too many thoughts all the time. Weight of the world on my shoulders kind of thing. Which is exhausting, but it makes me feel more connected. I am grateful that I am sensitive, emotional perhaps, because I have seen how easily people are numbed. It really isn’t a way I would want to exist.

Till another 5 months!

Just kidding, I will really try this time to keep this up.

Have you ever wondered…

what it would have been like if you were born in a different family? I never pondered this much, but today I am counting my thanks that I was the product of my parents genes and their loving home. I wish my twin sister (in heart and mind) was biologically my own and could have been raised in my environment and was spared all the torment that she has residing in her soul.
There are two forms of abuse, one that usually isn’t talked about. The first one you think about is physical, because onlookers can see and perceive it. But what about the other? The one that cuts just as deep and lingers much longer. The ones you do your best to hide, as if they really were marks on your skin. Our whole being is controlled by our psyche. If you are nervous, you will feel sick. If you are sad, your eyes produce tears. So of course psychological abuse will tear your insides out and will follow you the rest of your life. And yet this abuse is the one less known, thought about or credited.

On the outside you see a lovely family, but you don’t hear the guilt that is being spread amongst them. Or the brainwash that is being used to mold them after your own image. Where other opinions are “sinful” and you are made to feel like a lesser human being for having them. And then the hardest of them all, hearing that you weren’t actually wanted. You aren’t wanted and yet are being used to achieve a hidden agenda.

On the inside you see and hear the ugliness, but no one from the outside is allowed to ever see an inkling of it. These abuses usually go unnoticed for years, until of course outside influences finally help the now young adults to actually see. See the world from their own eyes. Have their own opinions and own thoughts. They finally can stretch out of that suffocating blanket and see the reason why they always felt insecure and not enough.

And then they run.

They run knowing they are leaving the only thing behind they know, because it’s the only way they can survive.

And yet…they never completely escape. Because that abuse is always residing deep inside them and the abuser seems to always be around the corner.

The worst part of it all is when the abuser doesn’t even see what they have done. They only see the wrong done to them. They only see their hurt and pain. Because it was ALWAYS about them and the “poor me” routine that they have down to a tee. After years of separation they still think only of themselves. And still, STILL use their eloquent words to try to destroy the other. See…that’s the thing with psychological abuse, you have to listen. Really listen. Because it is the words that are the weapon. You might hear love and understanding on the surface, but when you pay attention and keep listening, you will see/hear the abuse.

So lovely, strong, beautiful twin of mine, know that we have seen and heard it. And we are here to screen you from it and tell you not to listen. Because you did what was right and what was best. You survived it. She can’t hurt you anymore. And she won’t get to you, because she will have to go through us first.

Melting the numbness

If you never have read the book “The Giver” by Lois Lowry, I command you to do so this second. Seriously, do it right meow.
I cannot recall reading this for the first time. I can’t see where I was, which time it was or whom I was, but regardless of who I was then and am now, I know it made me feel the same. I will do my best not to spoiler any of you out there that has not went down that rabbit hole, but I have the need to write about this turmoil happening in me right now.
I came across the movie that I never knew existed this week and was completely surprised at seeing it. How did one of my all time favorite books become filmed and I never heard about it? Life, I guess. Regardless of the reason, I’m glad I did stumble upon this rarity. Not just because it was a favorite, but because it was forgotten.

I. Forgot. About. It.

I would not have remembered to tell someone that this was one of my favorite books had they asked. And this saddens me. Not because it’s the best book ever written, but because I let life make me forget. It made me forget the deepness it made me feel, the lesson it taught me. I’ve forgotten to contemplate out of the box thoughts and stopped trying to find solutions for the pains of our world. I let myself become numb.

Numb to the pain I feel for all the horrible things that are happening as we write/read. Numb to the fire that burns within me to rage against the machine.
What did this book teach me? To question everything. Not to take what I was taught for the truth, but to question why I am being taught it.
Is a world without hate a bad thing? No of course not. Is a world without war a bad thing? Of course not. Is the world without diversity a bad thing? Yes. Is the world without feeling a bad thing? Yes. Is the world without pain a bad thing? Yes. Is the world without love a bad thing? Most definitely yes.
If there was no diversity how could we acknowledge the specialness and beauty of being unique? If we didn’t feel joy or sadness, what is the point of being? Without pain you could never cherish or appreciate love.

Numbness is not an option. Regardless of the pain you feel, you cannot let that numbness take over, because then you are just empty. You need all those feelings to be human.
The bad things out there are hard to take, to process. But everything that happens out there is a lesson to be learnt. We keep forgetting to learn from the past to change our future. We keep forgetting to feel.
So it’s my message to anyone who is reading this: look at things differently. Look at what you were taught differently. Question it. Question everything. And don’t let life numb you, don’t forget to feel everything.

The escape

I was asked a while back by my s.o. what the deal is with me and my books. He couldn’t understand how I could spend the whole day (or days on end) reading. I never really thought about it, not in-depth anyways. Because, well, as lame it might sound to some, reading is my hobby and who really questions their hobbies? However, his question naturally made me contemplate it, it made me stop what I  was doing and really ask myself why I get so sucked into these stories. What is it with these fictional realities that can wholly capture my complete attention? And why, when I finally come out of the trance, do I feel distorted as if I just woke up from a dream?

I guess it’s simple really. The worlds are much more interesting than the one I am living. I have thought on numerous occasions how much I wished Harry Potter was true and that at 11 I actually got my acceptance letter to Hogwarts. These realities don’t even need to be exciting, they just need to be different. Because what does reading, playing video games and bingeing on series really do? They distract you from your life. They give you a break from your reality and let you sink into another.

Most people need it too. They need that escape. If it is reading, writing, games, series, sports or drugs. (Yes, I just categorized reading and drugs into the same boat.) They all take you away. After thinking all this and more (you really do not want to go through my complete thought process) I end up to a single question. Why? Why do we need that escape? Does life suck so much? I don’t think my life is bad, but it isn’t all that exciting either…We all should be in power of our own lives, right? If we want it to be exciting we should make it that way…Why do I feel like I just hit a wall?

Those feels

What is it with this snow? Why does it fill me with joy and innocence? I see it and I just think of rolling around in it. Throwing snowballs and sledding. I’m in my mid twenties and still it always manages to bring the kid out. The kid that is suppressed in the daily routine of adult life. Which sucks by the way.
I remember my mom telling me not to grow up so fast. I would nod my head, simultaneously thinking “yeah yeah, whatever”. But I wish I would have listened. I wish I would have enjoyed the last years of adolescence and the non existent responsibilities. Just been a kid, you know? Played lava man one more time without thinking that “playing” isn’t kool anymore. Too many thoughts wasted on how people perceived me and not enough thoughts about a new kool fort idea.
This nostalgia always catches me off guard and leaves me with whiplash. Like the memories of Christmas Eve at my grandparents house, playing wishbone with my cousin, and running to get enough air to make it onto my grandparents seemingly 6 foot tall bed. All these innocent memories where you can’t help but grin and hold back tears at the same time.
The only battle with the urge to be able to crawl right back on the top bunk of my childhood bed, is this annoying ticking going on in the back of my head. If you are female and in your twenties, you know what I’m talking about. Yes, that ticking. The tug you feel whenever you see little shoes and socks. Or when you hear the pure delight of a giggling child. Where your hand unintentionally wanders down to your stomach.
I’m at the phase in my life where I have both feet on opposite sides of an open door. The one side is longing toward childhood and the other yearning motherhood. But I know I’m not there yet, I’m not stable enough to completely cross that threshold. I don’t mean mentally but worldly. I don’t want to bring a child into the world without me having found a stable enough place in it. I don’t want to make it harder than it already will be.
I know I can’t go back and I know I can’t go forward.
So I’m stuck. Trying to get to the place where I can throw that anchor down and stop this ship from tipping from one side to the other.
I guess I also wish I could save the world by then too, but who am I kidding? That’s a life work in progress.
It’s amazing really, what thoughts a snowflake can bring about…

Are you ready?

I have thought about this long and hard, more than I should have. I even googled about it. I seriously read a blog about blogging. And you know what I realized?

I can’t do it. Not that way. I can’t think and plan about what I’m going to write. I can’t decide now, at this moment in time, what I want my blog to be about, to structure it. Because it’s going to be about everything and nothing. I’m not going to give myself a headache about it, nor am I going to second guess myself about what I should or should not say. It just isn’t me. It isn’t the reason why I write.
I write to relieve my cluttered brain, to formulate my feelings that are all tangled in my limbic system and to let all the crap go that has been building up.
So why, you might ask, am I trading in my scattered papers and notes for something so…public? It’s simple really. Immortality.
I highly doubt I will ever publish a book, not because I think people are going to hate me or use what I write to stoke their fire, but because I can’t get pass my initial amazing idea. It doesn’t unfold into characters or plots, it just stays in that singular place of “that would be a good idea for a book”.
Yet, I still want that immortality of having touched a complete strangers life without having ever met them. I want someone to read my now public thoughts and be moved by it. Inspired maybe. Or maybe just see something in a completely different light than they did before my words came popping into their lives. To quote one of my favorite movies, “I want to free your mind“.
And maybe, just maybe, I can achieve my seemingly unattainable dream of saving the world. Because it can be done, it really can be.
One person can do it, because that one person can plant that nugget of hope or idea in one mind and they in turn will do the same to the next. And on it shall go until the whole world is up in flames. And through the ashes we shall rise, born anew and ready to fly.
It’s time for a change, are you ready?