I speak volumes

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I have come to terms with the fact that I cannot stop overthinking. I used to be thinking all the time – there it was, the unending flow of words, sentences and ideas, images sometimes, thoughts rushing so fast I could barely keep up. It still happens to me everyday, but at least it isn’t stopping me from enjoying life anymore. I do not overanalyze and observe every single little detail anymore. Or at least, I don’t do it so much that I cannot entertain a simple conversation or activity.

My thoughts are not as dark as they used to be either. But… I still feel bugged. It seems to me I speak volumes, and I think volumes, but I cannot feel satisfied because I don’t act enough. Mahatma Gandhi once said: “Happiness is when what you think, what you say and what you do are in harmony.”

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The harmony between the do and the say/think association doesn’t even come close to being realized in me. I keep thinking and saying: I’ll write in my blog once or twice a week; I’ll read more books; I’ll complete a painting every week and draw a little bit every day; I’ll

make sure to write some poetry or prose each day so I can complete my art and writing projects; I’ll be hard-working and study well to make sure I make my PhD dissertation the best I can make it… I think all these things. I say them too.

I envision my life and my sense of self would be like and how I could, most importantly, help others in any sort of way by achieving all these goals, by making all these dreams come true… But, happiness set aside, what makes the difference between a successful writer or artist and a would-be artist or writer if not the “doing”?

I don’t want to become bitter over time, thinking of myself as some sort of failure because I simply haven’t got myself to do what I dreamt of. I don’t want to wake up one day and realize that all my dreams have passed me by. I don’t want to let the fear of failure and rejection stop me. I don’t want to let the remnants of my depressions tug at me and chain me, so they can take hold of me again.

I have made progress though… I do not seclude myself as much as I used to, and thanks to that, I have met my wonderful girlfriend. But now, I need to find the drive and dedication. I want what is swirling inside of me to be fully realized on the outside too. I wish not to only speak volumes, I want to create volumes!

Adrift, a Dream

Not sure I want to see

Being neither moored
Nor steered.
Closing broken doors
On fears
I am
Drifting

Pools of neon lights
Made me
Cringe into delight
Scared me…
And I
Am loose

Books are piling up.
The dust,
Now, is filling up
The room –
Am I
Adrift?

Open one of them –
You’re done –
Peace and war poems
They sung
Voices
Of loss.

Sending thoughts to float
Across
Spaces far remote
I toss
And turn
Adrift
Un-lost.

Healing Yourself – The Value of Playing

We go about our daily lives – working, speaking, sleeping, eating, thinking, working some more. And when we do not work, how we worry about tomorrow’s tasks ahead! What about that deadline getting closer? Or that meeting we yet have to prepare for? Work, taxes, money issues, the trifles of the day, the burdens of the night, and the old memories of wounds we believed had closed that keep coming back to us in dreams, and the one negative thought that triggers a train of associations sending some of us spiraling down, down, and further down… That is when you are looking  at your own personal life only, the life we get caught up with, sometimes forgetting to look outside ourselves and beyond.

My girlfriend, my wonderful, complex, curious, clever, beautiful and funny, but terribly anxious girlfriend, knows all too well what it feels like to be overwhelmed by her own thoughts, and to become trapped inside her mind. The best I can do to soothe her is give and show her love – and I have plenty to give her. But there’s something else that we love to do to heal our nerve-wracked minds – we simply just play!

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We are adults – young adults for sure, but still, we are supposed to be grown-ups. We have teaching jobs that place us in a position of responsibility towards teenagers and still we find ourselves playing like little children all the time. When we went to Auvergne together, we tried going to the top of a mountain, but had to stop halfway up the road because the wind was too strong and we couldn’t see anything for all the snow that was flying and dancing in the sky. So we made our way to the foot of the mountain again, but made a pause on the way to do a snowball battle and to run in the fields. We did it again the next day, and we had fun in the swimming-pool at our hotel. There was an older couple there who looked at us tenderly, probably thinking we were quite a bit younger than we actually are.

But the games that we play – the real, innocent, funny games that we play together – make us laugh; they keep us smiling and feeling alive and happy. Adults tend to stop playing – or perhaps they start to believe that it is no longer for them; maybe some of them even forget how it feels to have childish fun – but there is no better cure for dispassion and sorrow than a good laugh. Playing triggers the imagination and lets your soul rise and shine.

Playing is living differently for a few moments, with different rules.

Playing is reuniting with your inner child. The one who is still there, holding on to your dreams, believing, always, that you can make it.

Playing is healing your soul and and soothing your heart. 

So go out and play… Go out and heal yourselves!

Love,

Sacha 🌟💙

Think outside the box – Capable

Can the Molds

They can cast molds for anything
Your looks, your loves, your truths.
And we cut frames for everything
Genders, powers, cultures.

It is not love if there’s no fear
To lose yourself – to disappear
And hurt, hurt, hurt.

You can’t be friends when you have loved
Or then it means you never loved
It’s wrong, wrong, wrong.

You do not look like you date girls
Go on and hide your dress and curls
You don’t, don’t, don’t

Fit the package I built to make
Myself at ease – for my own sake
You won’t, won’t, won’t

Resist the mold for much longer
Can you not see how much simpler
Life is, is, is

If you just comply and you sit
There in your box with no exit
And do not feel.

For we cast molds with anything
And they like frames on everything
They decorate the emptiness
We fabricate their happiness.

 

I have been thinking a lot about how we are told, time after time, what we should look like, and how we should act around our lovers, our ex-lovers, our friends, at work… And every time, I reach the conclusion that perhaps it is not about what we should or should not do, but about what we are capable of. What if your ex and you are both happy as friends? What if you do not believe you should look boyish when you’re a girl who loves girls or over manly when you’re a boy who loves girls? What if you think you are capable of disinterested love, or giving without expecting to be given in return? Perhaps you think you can take that trip on your own, and handle that project! Maybe you are a sick right now, or depressed, or struggling, but you are still convinced you are going to make it, no matter how long it takes. What if you are simply capable of thinking outside the boxes you try to fit in and accept who you are and just do you? You are capable of thinking outside the box, if that’s what works for you. And you are capable of doing you. 

Why honesty engenders renewal

Being a lover of honesty and of powerful literary quotes, I could not resist reflecting upon this one extract from The Brothers Karamazov: 

“Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

I have not read this classic of Russian literature yet, but it is on my ever growing list and of course, one of my resolutions for 2017 is to read more. I have already talked about my hopes for the coming year in another post, and today, because the new year is upon us and synonymous with renewal and new beginnings, or at least because it should be, I would like to try and think about the relationship between self-honesty and self-recovery.

This past year, I have had to face myself a number of times: it was a question of moving on, of improving and of refusing to delude myself. It was hard. It was truly nerve-racking to just sit by myself and accept that I was not honest; to find the truth, embrace it and build on it instead of against it. When my girlfriend left me, I wanted to stay friends right away; I thought I was strong enough for it and that I was not actually expecting for her to come back to me. Obviously, that was a big fat lie, and because of it, I could not recover from my heartache and started acting somewhat erratically. Then, I accepted what I did not want to see. I opened my eyes at last and saw the extent of what was happening to me – only then did I begin to heal. Only then did I start respecting myself again. Only then did I feel again. And only then could I realize that I was doing well on my own, even if I still miss her and still want to be her close, perhaps her best friend. And I am confident it might not take as long as I think before we can talk. But that is not for me to decide, I must let time do its magic.

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The problem that poses itself when you try not to lie to yourself, however, is that it is terribly painful. First, it means you must accept to face yourself and to find yourself alone with your soul. It means you cannot seek solutions outside yourself, or in a lover, or in relationships and sweet nothings. It is a “me, myself, and I” sort of situation. It is lonely. It is hurtful. It is sickening and might make you feel a little mad until the skies clear. Second, it means that if you are asking for advice from friends and family, you must be ready to listen to what they have to say. And I mean really listen, not hear with one ear and then seclude yourself into your own fantasy world right after. If you do so, what will happen next? You will resent them, think they do not understand you or that they are against you. You will reject them, perhaps blame and hate them. But they don’t. They are trying to help. They give you their honest opinion but will let you make your own decisions because they believe in you. But really, if they think you are deluding yourself, they’ll hope you open your eyes before it is too late. Before you’ve passed the point of no return. The last thing will be sorting everything out. What you truly want, what you truly feel, what is right and what is wrong, what is acceptable or not. What you are willing to wait for and what you are not ready to do. And many, many more things. Until finally, you can stand on your own two feet and say: yes, this is real. This is not an illusion I have created for myself.

That day, you’ll be better. And being honest with yourself does not mean you cannot dream, or imagine things. Honesty is not synonymous with dullness and lack of creativity, but it does come with strength and courage; it means letting go of fears; it is a way to make yourself come to life again and to find your own paths towards happiness.

The Culture of Love?

Why did heartbreak hurt me so?

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about love and relationships. I am not sure I should say “lately,” because in a way, I’ve always thought about these issues a lot, even as a child. Yet, I have never been the kind of person who hops from relationship to relationship or contrives to make people fall for me.

When I was a teen, I always found myself “feeling in love” though, and of course, I never loved people I could actually be with. I have “loved” one of my professors, and the best-looking boy in high school and a few men who were older than me. I remember asking my mother why I could not have a boyfriend or a girlfriend as the other kids at school did. Her answer was quite simple, but I think she was right and only formulated a truth I already knew but did not want to see. She said: “That’s because you’re not in love with anyone. What you love is the idea of love.”

It was easier then to be in love with love than to actually try and be in a real relationship. There would be no rejection and no pain. I could create all these beautiful stories inside my head, and no one could ever take them away from me because I was in control. But then, one day, I really did fall in love, with a girl. And it hurt. I fell in love again, with another girl. And it hurt more. And then again – and on the moment I felt my heart crack open and shatter that time, I thought I would die. This is not just a frozen, cliché image. My heart was pounding; I had shivers down my spine; I could not eat, could not sleep, could hardly breathe…

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At that point, my only thought was “Don’t be fooled dear, there is no such thing as LOVE.” So I started reflecting on the idea of love once again. What was it that had made me so dreadfully hurt? What could possibly have caused such intense suffering? I am happy when I am alone. I don’t feel the need to have a lover or to experience these fluttery feelings you get when you first meet someone. I do not crave it. So what was it? Was it my pride that had been wounded? Was it the idea that our culture imposes on us that if you do not have a fulfilled love life you have accomplished virtually nothing, even if you are successful at work and have good friends because our society seems to tell us we must have it all? EVERY SINGLE LITTLE THING? Or was it so painful because even though I did not need my lover, I actually had made a conscious choice to be with her? I just wanted to be with her and share with her?

The pride issue I think I have resolved. Of course, I am not a perfect angel of selflessness and disinterestedness, so yes, my pride must have been hurt a little bit. I guess that is just natural. What really hurt me though was being told that I was perfect and still losing the one person I loved so dearly. How could I be “perfect” and still not enough? How could perfect be discarded so easily and so quickly? It took me back to my own childhood fears, when my mother told me, even as I got straight As, that I could do better. That when I was naturally kind and loving, I was told that my love was not there or was not real. That my kindness and generosity were a social manipulation. That I was only good because I wanted  people to love me because I did not love myself at all. That all this so-called perfection was either fake or still not enough. I felt worthless and started questioning who I was and whether striving to be the best person you could possibly be (because I don’t think I’m perfect. No one is. And I don’t want to be perfect) was actually worth it.

When the rush of emotion had washed away a little, I came to the conclusion that I should not let my pain harden me into becoming a more selfish and nastier person though. Then, I would actually hate myself as I would not be respecting any of my personal beliefs.

So I wondered about the other questions. Yes, society wants us to have it all; and our culture sells us a image of love that is all passion and thrill without pausing to consider what love is. Love seems to have become just another product we want to consume. Of course, that is not how everyone sees it – I personally don’t and many of my friends do not either – but it tends to be presented in that way very often. Just think about all the love quotes on the internet!

And finally, there was the difference between needing and wanting. No, I did not need my lover to be happy. When I met her, I even knew being with her would probably mean problems and drama and hurt because I could feel she was troubled. And I was right. Still, I chose to stay because I loved her and I wanted to be with her, and I was ready to accept her for who she was, with the good and the bad because relationships are not just about the thrill, they’re about building something. One of my friends told me that you do not find the love of your life, you create it. And I think she’s right, so perhaps the grief of heartbreak was only enhanced by the feeling that the safe place I was trying to build for us together with her was being torn apart. It felt like watching my favorite poem or the painting I liked the most burning away. And it reminded me of all the hurt in the world that we cannot control – all the destruction… So I thought to myself: “the world is already so full of weeping, why would anyone want to add to it? Why generate devastation when you can build beauty?”

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But perhaps I am too much of an idealist and an optimist… And I know that the heart wants what it wants. It can’t be helped, but still, I’d like to hold on to these ideals.

Sorry about this terribly long post… I hope you enjoy it! Thanks to anyone reading  💙

Have a wonderful day,

Love,

Sacha