Imaginary friend

I have constructed my whole life around you. Changing, moving, adapting, adjusting, learning, growing. It is why when you decided to walk out of it, I started to really struggle. Still, I wanted to facilitate even that, so I worked with you on the exit plan. Prepared you for the real world, for independence living, for the workplace, for self sufficiency. I was withering on the inside but I was teaching myself how to do the new seperation part through the loving still.

When you came that day last year, exactly as Tuesday, 12th December, and took your belongings away, it was as if you snatched a valve in my heart apart. Like a totally mad woman I went to your room trying to hold on to anything at all, I cropped the top of your pathos plant, a little stem with 2 leaves, one bigger than the other. I kept them in water until summer. Before I moved, I planted them in soil. Four new leaves have grown from it since. From 2, came for, always the 1 being source. 124 baby girl... This is how I make room for hope, one way or another. Something somehow always stems and grows... from even the cuttings!

My reality shattered, my mind going awry, my heart getting broke, my whole reality shifting and smashing is not on you. It is on your father, on Chris, on my sister, on her boyfriend, on my brothers, on our "family", on your father's "family", on my friends, on all the people I met and became part of our life. Nobody has ever done the work of doing their part of being in their role, all they ever wanted was to waste time and suck energy. I didn't know that, my lack of experience in life did that. 

Other people seem to be fine with how life was going and whom filling what role in their life. For me it was just never enough, I needed containment, I needed presence. The more absent they were the mare shame I felt the more my mind acted up. 

You felt it and knew it all, I didn't. You wanted out, I understood. But to do it in that most harshest, brutal way, that was on you.

The lack of empathy you showed, that was on you.

The inability to meet me half way like I was you, was on you. 

The fighting me like I was your enemy when was anything but that, was on you. 

But I'm not rubbing this in your face, the result of all of that must have affected you too. I told you it didn't have to be done that way, but you were 17 and wild, and thought that was the solution to the pains you had.

It's okay too, here we are. The more we know, the more we know. 

I'm to release you fully from my system since what you represented towards the end was eating me alive. Becsuse I had little boundaries, I did not know where I begin, where I end, how much to give, and for the life of me, never knowing how or what to receive, if at all. 

I told you on one of the last few times we met, "I don't know if it's I driving you crazy or you driving me crazy".

The truth is, we both did. You're crazy and sane in many different aspects and ways, so am I. 

Our life to the out looker could've seem perfect and sane. They envied what we had, but you and I knew the struggles. Year in, year out. Battling loneliness, deception, being outcasts, abscense of true loyalty in people, lack of effort and integrity in others, the nonexistence of our tribe / family / group. Many hardships too, but we battled through.

Perhaps you thought that if you things totally differently now, that the outcome would be different. Perhaps you sought happiness in I dependance from me. Perhaps splitting yourself from me would take away the you that was my daughter and pride, so you can create a total path of your own, unlinked to me. 

If that's the case, then I sure hope you got what you wanted. 

No effort being put to truly address the problem of our seperation was not on you, it was on the family. The very family who never gave two fucks about us truly. So, nothing new there. It was always going to be just me and you, they couldn't even reach the level of depth we use in communicating our issues, or the things that we address. 

I think I am only just starting to make peace with things. 

I think of you now as an imaginary friend, for the way it all vanished and disappeared as if it never really happened feels very much like that. 

Thank you for your visitation, it was nice while it lasted. 

Adios, my friend.

Sail away

Perhaps too I'm writing in an attempt to face the shame that I lived with my entire life. The shame of not being loved, wanted. It began with my mother who kept offloading me as a baby, though I had extreme health problems since birth. Going through my sister's rejection, then her and my friends betrayals, then my husband's constant cheating, his repeated abandonment, all of the failed relationships afterwards, leading up to the latest that exploded the can of worms... My own daughter's rejection.

I am writing so that I look at that shame monster in the eye, and tell it you don't scare me. Let it be known and out for people to see. 

I havent been loved, I don't even know what that feels like. My mind has been so messed with that the only safe territory for me in relationships is manipulation and abuse. That is familiar to me. That feels home to me.

I'm not ashamed for being mentally disturbed because it happened to me. I didn't do it. 

But then I started seeing what I did do myself, and I wanted to stop doing it. But it upsetted all those who were benefitting, and my waking up from my shame induced coma didn't suit them.

But fuck this shit because I grew so fucking tired from chasing a dream, an illusion. Burning myself trying to give value so that I am approved, so that I am validated, so that I am wanted, so that I am loved...

Even the most default love that should come in naturally, the most basic, the most instinctive one, the love of a mother, the love of a daughter, I had to keep chasing it, burning myself, to no avail. 

It ends here, it ends today. Enough bleeding. Enough pleading. 

I'm just going to have to make do with imagining what it would feel like, look like, being appreciated, been taken care of, been truly loved, and receiving, so that I can start going towards that direction, and leave that most dried up, scarce shore. 

Ahoy! 

Whacko

The most ideal thing to do for my mind currently is write again. Somehow when I write I seem to understand things better. I also open my heart which is needed, for I had been closing it unknowingly, for living alone, in an eccentric and rather extreme way.

I've known with time and as I was getting older that there's something wrong with my mind. It took me very long to start understanding that the extremity of my emotions, my intense reactions, my boundaries, both the lose and the rigid ones, and the way I do relationshops, all relationships, was not ordinary. But then I understood with time and aging too my true making, so that being intense and what I thrive on and my standards and values made perfect sense when considered in the mix.

And then there was the well that was the traumas, which I only started to discover and truly understand in the recent years. Meaning that physically speaking, my brain could've have went through a lot of damages as a result, from a biological point of view.

Given I'm eccentric and crazy and whatnot, I always respected people's boundaries. Those who felt uncomfortable with me were given their space. I would always try to communicate my thoughts and my feelings and intention to make it clear and keep it straight forward and direct. The rather sad thing is that people would stick around despite that, because all of these screamed mental illness, and so people did what people do, they take advantage... 

Of course if I was to have any family at all, there would have been some sort of containment or a sort. Not having family, losing parents, then most narcissistic psychopathic abusive husband... I accepted everything and anything after that. I would accept and settle for breadcrumbs because guess what, I was famished by then. Any affection at all, any closeness of any sort, any kind of intimacy, any sight of loyalty, and hint of commitment, presence, continuity.... 

Of course, that was on me by that stage, I fucked myself up, by settling for anything at all. 

Even daughter, she would admire other totally brutal mothers, and I would be shocked, thinking what's wrong with that picture, she had a safe and pleasant childhood because of my softness, why does she admire these wild and manipulative sick mothers! I get it now, I represented the breadcrumbs mother. I was very insecure, very anxious, very traumatized, very scared and fragile deep inside, that the outside appearances meant nothing to her. She detested my guts towards the end. (Though I was a true protective and genuine mama bear through and through... But what I do I know, I seem to be always inside a world of my own, different priorities and different objectives and different values.)

Of course there's always the argument that our strong reaction to others is a direct reflection of what we are rejecting in ourselves.

And the argument that there is no you and I, whatever you do to others you do yourself... 

Etc. Etc. 

But I don't need to get there... I'm passing by, just wanting to say really, that my pain is very big, battling mental illness is extremely painful, I have dealt with it my whole entire life, not even knowing that there is an alternative, thinking all people feel so much like that, and get frozen.

But recently and after getting rid of more addictions, bad habits, weak decisions, wrong people, I am more able to see through it all, my mind isn't well. 

And when for the very first time ever I said it directly last year to her father and my sister whom were supporting her in her actions because of their own issues with me personally, they just didn't care. 

I cried and I begged them not to let our personal issues to get them to support her split from me, and that if they cared about her at all, they should keep our tie because she still needs her mother, and her age and situation is sensitive. 

Oh what a naiive I have been!

They pursued with it, until the very end. And I was cut back... 

And her, she has her own mental troubles too, of course I was on it on my own too, they just want to deal with her shell, for fear of having to face any of the real deal or their own shadows! 

But then there were all of them demons uniting, and what power did I have?! What powers do I have!? 

I've lost, they won. 

She got freedom from my "imprisonment". 

Her auntie got to live her motherhood fantasy like a lousy little child with her baffoon of a boyfriend whom she's using for her wife fantasy... 

And her father, well he saved himself some 5000$, simply erasing all the money he owed me over the years for child custody, just like that, because he can, like he did all the atrocities his entire life! 

I don't give a damn about her father or my sister, let them rot in hell for all I care. 

But her... She was always my concern, I was always committed and dedicated. 

But then she freed herself from me, and I do honestly hope she's at peace. 

My pain is mine, however, my mental illness is mine, my problems, my pains, it's on me. It's not her fault she was born to a damaged mother, but it is her fault to cause me more pain when I was pleading... The lack of empathy is on her too, you'd have more compassion to a nanny that looked after you, almost alone, all those years, or even a pet... 

I didn't beg her for money or to stick around or anything at all... I only just cried out to allow me to lover her still, but even that even then it disgusted her. She wanted to control how I thought of her, how I felt towards her, how I handled her, what I said about my feelings, what I thought! She would come around knowing how desperate I am to keep our bond, but would only ever take and take and take, not even throwing breadcrumbs at me. Instead, wanting to hurt me to teach me, to change me, so she could feel empowered and good about herself, so she could make up for all the years when she couldn't stand up for herself. 

I have become my daughter's main enemy and burden! If this in itself isn't mental illness, I don't know what is. Distorted realities through and through... 

And I did lose her, and I loved her too much to be able to see her turning into a total sociopath... 

But I accepted it, because guess what, not being able to see it much earlier was my own doing, because of my unstable mind, it was on me! I blamed me again and again and again. 

A stable mind would've been able to spot it, recognize it, and alert me.

A stable mind would've preserved its person from being used and abused. 

A stable mind wouldn't have gotten me into her father, or back to him after all he did. 

A stable mind wouldn't have allowed my sister in my life again after all she did in the past.

A stable mind would have seen through Chris and all his games. 

A stable mind would've managed to keep my daughter with me... 

But I was outcast, because of that unstable mind, by the crazies themselves! 

There is nothing left to do, but to move on now. 

Find people and things that are good for my mental health and my nervous system. 

Try to stay away from manipulative and abusive patterns whenever I can. 

Write because that's the only time i get to truly love myself, by giving myself the space to express my thoughts and feelings, uninterrupted. 

Write because all I ever have is myself. I write, I read, I feel, I reflect, I heal. 

And if not, fuck it anyway!!!! 

 

 

A late night plea, and simple maths

42 - 24 = 18

When I remove the last 24 years of my life from my current age, 42, I'm left with 18. The age when my father died, the time when your father conquered! 

24 is the age I was when I gave birth to you. 

18 is your current age. 

I am soon to be 43, I was 23 when I got pregnant with you. Almost half my life with you...

But, I thank you, for wanting to put an end to what your father started. You're not game, I was not your choice, you're out, you've got it. I get it. 

The past 24 years chunk of my life is to be ended and removed indeed, and I am to restore my 18 years self.

But my father has just died, I'm 18, and you have just died, I'm 42, and I'm left with so big a pain inside of me that's shocking and choking. I'm not truly 42, I can't truly handle this, I'm an orphaned child, though my mother was around... But you know the story, big part of it anyway.

I will miss you so very badly, I miss you every single day, I cry every single night. 

This isn't for you now, this is for God: 

Won't you please help me restore whatever is salvageable of me. Either that, or please please please take me away... 

I can't take the pain any longer. 

Or at least make me forget. Remove her and the memories from my head, remove the memories from my heart. Remove those ties from my soul.

Remove the longing, the missing, the thinking, the feeling, the hoping, the wishing, the idiocy! 

Give me faith, give me strength, pretty please. 

Please... 

Please, 

Please!

It's not personal

Another heavy Sunday is here, I am grateful I haven't lost it. Though my mind is often wandering, though the thoughts are often destructive, I managed to not lose it. I managed to contain my own self. The emotional heaviness however, of a typical Sunday type, is quite a lot. I'm just processing it all...

I haven't had time to contemplate lately, the pace of life is very fast, the city life is very chaotic. On top of all, I don't have the luxury of wasting any more time. It's still survival mode, but a next new level now. And while I managed to do a mighty come back at work out of thin air, and despite all the troubles, setbacks, and turmoils, I am still to make any money.

I've sold the very few bits and bobs and tiny furniture pieces I have brought with me here to keep, after selling all of the house furniture back in Fanar. I got few more books, curtain rods, and some shelves, those have to go next week so I can survive until the end of the year. 

I am not hopeful nor excited, I don't allow myself to let any emotions in when it comes to work these days. I just work, methodically, routinely, often time with total detachment. I risk losing a lot if I don't, for instance, getting back to Instagram! The followers, the stories, the likes, the tags, oh man, how are people still doing this shit!? It drives me mad! (More than I already am). Honestly though, Instagram is a number one cause of anxiety, all jokes aside. It's why I'm limiting all activities there and not investing much time on it. 

There is no avoiding the interacting with people when it comes to work, and so, begrudgingly, I am doing it. I feel utter exhaustion and overwhelm after the littlest of interactions, be it in the physical world or virtually, but I keep affirming myself that I am safe, and all is been taken care of. I only just have to take these very steps I have set up for myself now to come back to life, and out of that rot and emotional / mental mess. 

It didn't help much lately that, in order to deal with the stress, I had many binge eating sessions, mostly involving junk (basically crap!). In an attempt to balance my life out now, I sat with myself last night, and journaled, took notes and action steps to bring back some sanity again. I think the more I create and release things to the world, the more I will be confident again in what I am doing. But I won't worry myself too much with how what I make is being received, for I could very easily fall back to the whole mental and emotional chaos of it and I being seen, received, validated, accepted... or not. I certainly can't allow my mind to go into that terroritory now, I must preserve my mental health in whatever way I can! 

I have also been giving myself the occasional time and space to connect with others and have company. I can't say it's been always rewarding, and maybe perhaps because the triggers are so strong when I encounter others - I had grown so accustomed to being on my own. 

I often catch myself talking about the past, I haven't been able to be in the present yet still! The poor men who care about me even just a little, or just about our encounters, have to sit and listen through it all. I can't even remember anymore whom knows what details and how much, I just speak out aimlessly, it's probably a clear sign of my PTSD. After all, I haven't and I don't get to ever talk to people in my life, like normal anything, as usual... For there is no family, no friends, no nothing, so these guys basically end up getting their share of my pain processing in real time. 

I don't think any of them know the depth of the scars I am trying to heal, and that's fine, we come from very different backgrounds and life experiences (and expectations), and I am grateful when they show empathy, listen silently and attentively, and when they try to give me their own insight or piece of their wisdom, compassionately. Still, the pain isn't lessening with the passing of time or with all the actions taking place. In fact, sometimes I worry that all the distractions of life might be getting in the way of my healing. 

Sometimes though I just have to drop that weight and let go a little. Today's focus was on a plan to get back to my old routines. The 18 hours fasting again, my qi gong practice, my movements and dancing, my hobbies, my discipline with working hours and house chores. I started with the fasting today, and I get back the routines starting tomorrow. I gotta try to find a loop hole through that extremely noisy building and neighborhood. I don't know how, but I got to give myself a little bit of silence so that I can create, otherwise the stress from all sorts of outside simuli is really getting to my nervous system and stopping me from functioning properly. 

The sun is after setting just now, we had a clear sky finally after a very gloomy week. I am often finding myself missing my previous place, I visualize it, the details, the corners, the smells, the sensations, the feelings, and I cry. Not wanting it back, not stuck in the past, just reminiscing of a place that I truly put so much time, effort and energy in making it home, so much time, effort and energy in welcoming and hosting people, a place that was my most favorite of them all, but then having to walk away from it all, while I take it all down by my own hands, all that has made it "Home". 

The one year anniversary of her moving out of that house and my life was exactly 2 days ago, 8th November 2022, I have had a lot emotions creeping up on me and crippling me this past week, I am not sure if it was because of that, but what could I have done anyway?! Haven't I been processing shit since that day, and dealing with all the many hazardous repercussions? 

My problem is not that my daughter didn't want me after 2 decades of dedicating my life for her, lovingly so (not conditionally). But that the fact remains; she wasn't just my daughter, she was my sole and favorite companion, my confidante, my best friend, my only family. I also believed I was to her more than a typical mother, I was her therapist, her coach, her mentor, her companion, her friend, her cook, her number one fan, her art advisor, her business manager, her confidante... Was I family for her though!? Because, the irony! She never had it, they never were part of our life, and I filled up for everyone. She then goes out and drops me as well... And she never listened when I said repeatedly, I'm not her problem, if anything, I was the only constant and consistent person in her entire life. 

But then she slipped away... 

But maybe that too was all in my head, and I was blinded my whole entire life, for all she ever wanted truly was to get out of it all, and take and use as much as she can in the process until she does. She had to make use of it, you see, having me being a big part of her life and constantly around, when she couldn't love me. In her own words at one point, "she felt imprisoned"... It hurts, when all I had set myself to do since before she was born, was to love her. I grew with her, for her, for us. I don't get it, I still don't. I keep asking myself and others questions, they say, she's just a kid still. How very wrong they are, but nobody could ever fathom that thing that was and that had happened, not even I fully, but it definitely isn't just her being a kid! 

It is so very painful and against human nature to do life alone like I do these days, most especially after having dedicated most of my life anyway to the people I loved and cherished. This isn't a lesson, this is a spiritual cataclysm. 

I feel like a total failure every single day. How is it that everybody I know and around me have figured life out, and I'm the only idiot constantly shocked at people's behaviors, words, and actions!?! Why am I so thick?! Why is it not hitting me yet?! What on Earth am I missing!?!? 

Still, I can't complain, I shall heed the call. In fact, it's been done, I had no say in the matter whatsoever. Now I just ride the wave...

 And when there are ebbs and flows, I just observe, for I'll be taken whenever it takes me. 

The truth of the matter is that I could never make those, 

nor do people ever really make them themselves... 

None of it 

ever 

is 

personal!

The Letters

I thought and somehow have hoped life would end around now. It seems I was delusional, but you can't blame that weary mind of mine. Still, I am around and I am trying to make the best out of the situation, any situation at all really. 

I have been very watchful of how my mind loses its balance, ever so effortlessly, at the mere interference of emotions and the matters of heart. So I have been applying myself, doing all I could to try to self regulate. Mind, nervous system, thoughts, actions... 

In an ideal world, there would be switches you could flip to turn off one's feelings, or a simple wire cutting when ending an emotional contact with another being. But since that isn't the case, and since I am done reaching out sickly to people who have done me more damage than good, I am coming up with ways where I could feel the feelings I need to get in touch with when the emotions arise, and go with notions, and then release them. There is no need for the other to know about it, being contacted, or be part of this at all. This is after all merely my system processing what has been unknowingly to me at the time very traumatic events or periods. The signs of all I am and been going through being the pointers. 

I don't un-love, but I am learning to detach. While the latter is practical steps to take, follow, and stick to, the former is hard to live with. Not being able to unlove the ones we once loved so very dearly, means that it's still there inside, we've just decided to bury it. We is me, as they simply don't care, nor live the same experience as I do - or have done in the dynamic of whatever relationship or context that was. 

I have loved and still love oh so many people, most if not all had to get out of my life, for the way the lack of reciprocity and the extremely imbalance give and take dynamic we usually have set up is detrimental to my health, on all levels. 

I think that Letters would work as a mediator between my broken and injured attached self, and my newly born detached and free self. I am currently in the middle, and I feel a huge urge to connect with these people or the aspect of me that was alive and activated when I had them in my life. It is also a series of goodbyes, making since of what I was mostly unable to make sense of. And if it all fails, there would be at least the short visit of our memories, but also, most importantly, love flowing their way, for that heart of mine still does its thing, and what can a wearied human body do but oblige. 

The Letters are going to be a new series of posts I dedicate to the special people whom I encountered and cared very deeply for. It is a hello, and how are you, when the sensible thing is to not do that at all. Thankfully, writing comes once again to the rescue...

Spiraling with ARDH

For my sanity's sake, I released the work blog officially today. 

In my attempt to reconstruct something new, and my hope to be able to get back in the flow of work, I had to organize and tidy all the many different bits and parts of what I am currently doing and have been doing, so that I can pave a clear path for the future and my next steps. 

Of course I'm fully aware that by so doing, spending a huge amount of time editing, tweaking, modifying, changing, I would be wasting a lot and missing out on so much. Who in this time and age needs a blog to sell products? They'd laugh at you in the days of Instagram and Facebook shops, but, it's the only way I could do it. I had to build clear and proper foundation, and so help me God! 

I couldn't make do with the fragmentation from the last 5 years, I had to at least weave things together in a way where I can treat all parts and stages as a whole, so I could focus my energy on the honing process. 

Here I am, having (almost) done it. It took a whole lotta mental work, and boy am I tired! But, I shall release it for now, and will simply start building on from that. 

At least I could say I got myself a safe and somewhat stable "ground". 

Here's to ARDH124 my calling, my passion, my home. 

ARDH124

Layers of madness

I live in endless cycles of building up and distruction. I'm so tired from my mind getting in the way of my every little action. I get obsessed over the most minute detail and can only let go after having beautified and perfected things, when all I need to do, is earn the fucking money. Not to mention the gnawing fear of when will something come from outside and knack the whole thing down. If it doesn't happen, then I myself might do it, like history has proven. Cycles of repeated traumatic scenarios, with new added ones, almost on a regular basis lately. The priorities are not right in my head, the traumas are crippling my very move. It doesn't suffice that I'm aware and conscious, it's not being enough that I see, process, acknowledge, accept. There's still the most important phase, the final release, through which any hope of healing can happen, but I haven't yet fathomed how to do it. 

Everything inside of me is longing for the embrace that would make me feel safe and warm, just a little break, just a little reward to my weary mind, just a little pause, then another push. I can then make it, the forced loving pausing touch will help me achieve that. The slowing down, the pull of the bow, the stepping stone. A breath of oxygen, and an exchange of reigns of leadership. 

In-Sanity is a most fitting title indeed. Someone get me out of here. Either that, or get inside my head with me for a little while!

She might have been the biggest drug of my life, and I am suffering from the withdrawals still. 

Gimme gimme gimme, mine mine mine, that's how the world goes, and how humans seems to do it, and I'm supposed to survive when all I am is give give give, yours yours yours, and have become so fucked up that I can't even take what's already mine. 

New people owe me more money, how is that even possible, what kind of retards am I!?! 

I'm starting from square one again, working my way up in the business, nobody cares about my stupid creations, but in a battle between mind and money, where I seem to almost always lose the money, at least making things is keeping my hands busy and distracted, and the mind briefly at bay, and temporarily safe from going gung ho mad. 

A farewell march

My body was the temporary property of my big man penetrating me really good and really deep last night. 

My heart was owned by my daughter's hands since her heart was formed inside of me. She would pull the cords as she pleased, but then one day she let it slip away from between her buttery fingers.

My mind has been tinkered with by all the men who broke my heart time and again, and all the women who just wouldn't care. 

I am both here, and there. 

I'm inside my body, and outside of it too. 

I am being done to, but I'm watching it being done too. 

After the pleading has long ago ended, there remained the bleeding. Now it stopped and is drying up, leaving behind the most deepest scars. 

"I've made it here!", they shout loudly, proudly. But I count the days until I'm here no more.

The day all earthly actions and sounds will cease to exist, once and for all. 

No more humping, no more thumping, no more drumming, no more humming, no more him's, no more hymns... or lullabies.

Only just a farewell march. 

A summary

Orphaned

Abandoned 

Used

Abused

Disregarded

Attacked

Deserted

Repeat

Repeat

Repeat

Repeat

Repeat

Repeat

Repeat

I am not crazy, you are

Whomever is going through life and witnessing all that is happening in the world at large at the moment and haven't lost their mind, they themselves are the crazy ones. I am not crazy. 

the level of awareness I have and with my eyes wide open, heart and soul on point, it's very testing and quite a challenge having to do the survival things, and focus on the small picture, and the distracting day to day actions. Everyone's distracted, so many distractions. They glorify their gain in the system, well done you, what a genius, devil approved for sure, keep selling your soul away. Don't you bother attempt deciphering what is what, keep watching the news, keep taking sides, keep sharing stories and posts, keep calculating the good deeds, that should get you to Heaven for sure. 

All the ranting aside, I really must work, I need to make money. I don't know how to move from here when the only thing I've managed to do effortlessly for the past year is to write. Everything else has been forced and a real struggle. I can't keep on being the violinist in the sinking titanic. I got to help out, scream, shout, attend to someone, do something! I can't go on with my life as though nothing is happening or is going to happen, and get busy with a business or an art fair, or a stupid social media account, and handle ignorant customers. I need for my art to speak for me, I lack the courage to write and make / sell what I truly wish to share. I'm torn between the pressing need to share my art and allow creativity to flow through me and out, and wanting to be left totally alone, not be seen, not get exposed to the mass. 

There are a lot of daring thoughts and daring words and daring art projects in mind that need to come out of me, but I don't think I can handle the attention. I wish to do all of that without it been linked to me, I don't want people, period. This is a mixture of childhood trauma and deep rooted insecurity in a crowd, and a true knowing that such work would give people even more reasons to get in touch with me which I don't wish to attract or allow. I see through all people's bullshit, though I can't communicate with them on their high level of absurdity and superficiality!

I am wanting to write the book, I have never felt more ready, there are many different approaches to doing it, I've been brainstorming, and I can't decide on or settle for only just one style. The blog can be easily deleted by google any time, I want something printed, a tangible work, that should become my biggest craft. Something I can and people could hold with their hands. I don't only just have one book idea, there are several books in me. 

I am thinking about Chris a lot lately, he's crossing my mind frequently. I wonder if that's him thinking about me and me picking it up. It happens often that I get that from people. It was the anniversary of our first meeting not so long ago anyway, this is the time of the year when everything is so alive and sentimental. On 10th October 2010 I saw him for the very first time, when he came to spend a week with me, after having been very close online friends for a year and a half, and after expressing his feelings for me, and I reciprocating it. That day was the official start of our journey together. I don't think I ever loved anyone more than I did Chris.  

My mind is very erratic because of all of the bad stuff I binged on yesterday. I got to stop, there isn't much time left now for my stupid emotional eating. Better shape up and stay alert and on guard. Also, create and keep creating, the only way I could tolerate this living and make sense of it. Through my own creation, to counteract all the evil, hallow, and shallow energy sucking contents created in the world every split of a second.

Perhaps at least then I would be able to say I did my part. 

Perhaps then, I would have indeed turned the page. 

And detached, 

so I can ascend, 

ready for the end.

Hopes and wishes

I have been inside for a week, but I went out yesterday. I needed to get something from the phone shop near us, but I went to the farther away one to force a walk. When I was done and as I was leaving the shop, I spotted a bus coming our way, it had number 15 on. I remembered from back in the days that this used to be the one that goes to the seaside. I crossed to the other side of the road, and hopped on in it. I handed out a 100.000 L.L. note, having no idea what the tariff is these days. The driver handed me back 30.000 L.L. so 70.000 L.L. then, the equivalent of 1.000 L.L. back in the days. I am still not able to fathom most changes, this was another one to try to grasp. I asked the driver how are the people making do. He started opening up about the days and his own effort to make change. He told me that he wasn't a driver by trade, that he was a homeopathic doctor. He told me about his repeated efforts with a small group to try and get his natural immunity herbal "vaccine" to the people through the health municipality, to no avail. I was interested in the conversation, but then I had to get off his bus, he was finished for the day, so I had to exchange buses. I took another 15 bus right where we stopped at the Dora roundabout. I asked this driver about the time the last bus heads back from the Manara area these days, I was considering staying there for a little walk on the promenade, the weather was beautiful, and it was just before sunset. He said around 8:00 - 8:30, it was still 5:50, so I thought I might have gotten myself a plan. A spontaneous little outing, a break from home and the tiny space, and a solace for my weary mind through exposure to all sorts of stimulants. We left the roundabout immediately, the driving pace was way too slow though, but I enjoyed it. I was looking out the window, taking everything in; the roads, the people, the cars, the walker-boy's. Many changes noticed, but also many things remained the same. There was no escaping the memories and flash backs, my days with Yasmina and Chris in the city have simply been so many... 

The heaviness I used to see in people's faces and their bodies back in the days from system enslavement is the same now. But I was curious to learn more, considering all the happenings of late, and the bus rides provides exactly that kind of "info". Various people from different ages and backgrounds hopping on and off so frequently, engaging in all sorts of small talk with the drivers and the other passengers. Some of them know each other, many total strangers, but they speak away all the same. They don't just converse for the sake of filling up space, they do it as though it's the air they rely on for their survival. Perhaps it's the talking that's keeping these people holding on and pushing through. Expressing themselves, being heard and received, and their agony, humor, or worry reciprocated. There used to be a middle class back in the days, now only the privileged and the unprivileged. I belong to the latter category now, like the majority of the bus users, minus the privilege of belonging to any social group at all, or the luxury of genuine connection. Still I was filled with gratitude, for I haven't become a system slave (yet), I was still overriding the matrix, and I still kept my freedom, despite all. I was still feeling heavy with the inner turmoils I was carrying, but being around total strangers inside a moving vehicle in Beirut streets did make me feel somewhat at peace, and a little bit less lonely.

By the time we got to the beautiful spot I usually like to start my walking, I had already taken the whole scene in, as the driving was way too slow with many stops. I think they try to save petrol and wait for new passengers, also keep to their timely schedule. I thought I would just stay inside the bus and head back home in the same one, for by then I felt like I've gotten the exposure I wanted to get from the promenade. I also had my flip flops on which wouldn't have been practical for a walk. But I was checking all the spots and the areas I usually enjoy during my walk, where I would usually speed up, where I would slow down, and where I sit on the bench for a break or after I'm done. It has all remained the same except for few new benches that were put up. I took note of everything and I made plans for a proper jog in the near future, I thought that perhaps I could bring my jogging days back. I would do with open spaces and steady healthy movement. I just missed Yasmina and Chris so much, there has been way too many memories of us there, starting off with the Yasmina's bike rides when she was as little as 3 years old, just her and I, and later on, the many walks and talks, and after then, Chris joining the tribe. The same with the beach at Ramlet El Bayda, Chris's birthdays, and that special one when I took us to Baalbeck in the morning, and back to the beach in the afternoon to cut the cake, it was what he used to love. Yasmina's piggy bank rides, Chris's trouble with the wet sand on his feet, their excitement, Yasmina's goofiness, my love. My love... 

My heart used to be so swollen with so much love and gratitude, I used to feel like I had owned the whole world. There was nothing I needed outside of us and our small little, simple, private life together. With our preferences and small / big enjoyments, ambitions and dreams. 

Once I make the walk again there on my own, I would have turned another page. It is now due, and much more, for some healing progress, but one step at a time. I'm almost continuously overwhelmed since I was back to the city. 

On the way back, we were stopped in Dekwaneh by a group of people who were protesting earlier against Israel and the current war. About 10 people or more hopped on, all wearing the Palestenian scarf, some white and black, some red and black, and carrying the flags... They weren't the ordinary unprivileged people you'd expect, those were the so called "educated", NGO, privileged, identity confused, typical phoney and fake Lebanese people that I detested. 

I got off the bus 3 minutes later thankfully, at the supermarket close by, I bought some fruits and headed back home. It was night time by then and relatively quiet, I couldn't have asked for more. 

I've been listening to The Cranberries lately, I always wanted to discover their songs, but there just hasn't been a right moment, until recently. Many of their songs hit home. Goose bumps action is on point this morning as I listen to their Ode To My Family, Zombie, and Dreams... 

I finally managed to get avocado's! How can a fruit (vegetable) carry so much emotional weight is beyond me. But that's just how I am, sentimental and stupid. I had missed Yasmina so much that I couldn't bring myself to eat avocados without her. Last time we were having them was in spring time when she was still visiting me in Fanar and sometimes staying over. I would get her to buy me some ripe ones with her as the shops close by almost never had them. Our many memories over the years, season in season out, making, eating, and salivating over our favorite avocado rice dishes, avocado toasts, avocado smoothies, avodado, banana and honey, her famous green mushed avocado rice, my favorite cane sugar avocado scooping....

It's going to be another new page turned as I eat my first avocado in a while later today. I'm sick, so very sick. 

It's a stormy day, I hope the rain washes away more pain. I hope I the thunder does some kind of magic getting me out of my stupid sentimentality. 

After all that has been said and done, there's nothing left now but hopes and wishes!... 

A reversing act

Here comes Autumn with its mushiness effect. I am feeling so mushy and mallow and soffffft. What is it about this time of the year that makes me crave cigarettes though I'm a non-smoker. I am longing for nesting, I am having cravings. What is it about the mild cool whether that makes me feel so ultimately at peace. Today I am excited about the words that are yet to be born, potential words that might potentially come out of the mouths of some potentially cool people. That mind of mine is always wanting to escape me, I am holding the reigns now, I keep pulling at it every time it wants to go its own way. I can't lose it again, I gotta be in charge, keep at it, this taming thing, teaching it new ways, re-wiring, re-programming. All the horrendous things our mothers did to our brains, all the horrible things they allowed. As I was drifting to sleep last night I remembered the mentioning of that one particular medicine I once heard some family members talk about it been given repeatedly to my brother Aref and cousin Athar as infants. They did it to force them to sleep. It must have been inconveniencing to them mothers, having crying babies! Both of them are super sensitive, gentle, soft and nice people. Could you imagine what could have been happening for them to cry so hard? Could you imagine what happened to their system and brains as babies taking medicine that is almost against the law to prescribe for infants. Both of these beautiful people have lived a hard life and suffered due to their soft side, but also their mind. As I was contemplating and recalling some memories, it hit me that, knowing clearly from talks and retelling of past events, that I myself was an extremely sensitive baby, and I would cry a lot, never allowing anyone to touch me save from my close family. You don't think they gave me this medicine? Hell yeah, and other things too. It isn't just the emotional trauma that has left its marks on my brain, but also the shit they put in our system. Not to mention the terrible diet! I spent a big chunk of my life as an infant and child in the hospitals, I had heart problems. Have you any idea how bad these must've affected me? I do. I am horrified to even go there mentally. For now, I will just try to mother myself, give myself the loving, care, and nurturing that I need. I dug several of my journals yesterday, one of them I haven't touched since last year, it's titled The Book of Self-mothering. It's a part of several healing note books I have started in the recent years. Recognizing what could have been or is going wrong with someone's life is one thing, actually receiving what is needed, is something else altogether. What I am trying to do lately, is fooling my mind. Yes, because I've got nothing else to offer. If it's been fooled long enough to believe it's limited, worthless, unnecessary, waste of space, sure it can be fooled to believe it's loved, worthy, cherished, needed, desired, safe? In any case, I got nothing to lose at this stage. Perhaps I am meant to live another 42 years like I often thought, I will only be reversing the damage done during those 42 years. Perhaps I will die at 84, having dissolved the damage done from this society, and the people, and the system, and all the thread pulling evil shits and their control. I'll be then free truly, with a neat, tidy, and clear ending, just the way I like it. 

Today in the morning in bed before I got up, I imagined being embraced by a huge man with a dark, soft skin and mysterious, loving eyes. I laid my upper body against his abdomen, he rocked and swayed me right and left, back and forth, as he rested his chin on my head, and hummed for me. He sung me lullabies and caressed my palms gently. He sniffed my hair and breathed me in. He said a heartfelt Ahhhh every time he exhaled. His deep voice vibrated through my whole body and being. Every time I wanted to get up to get working, making and doing, he would pull me back to bed, tells me I am safe and looked after, and that I don't need to worry myself with any action or doing anymore. That I am only to get busy when I feel like creating for the sake of self expression. He told me that he'd look after sorting the creations out for me himself, to be received in the world through him. He assured me that I don't have to worry about dealing with people anymore, or their world, nor intercepting their words, or handling their money. 

I've been glancing at the mirror in front of me every now and then as I was typing away. I spotted the new changes to my face recently, aging is showing, new grew hairs I haven't noticed before, sagging here and there, weight loss and weight gain. I like how the skin looks like it's giving up, no more stretching and pulling, it just lets itself hang now. And the freckles, so many of them, new ones too, although I hardly got proper sun exposure this whole year. I long for the day when my body on the inside does the same as my skin; it drops the weight, lets go of the fat and stops holding on, pulling and stretching to keep things together. It recognizes that none of it is needed anymore, the puffing, the preserving... It disconnects itself from the old distorted mind programs. 

To let go fully, to have that special someone massage all the nooks and crannies in my body, all the tense parts of me, to squeeze fear and pain out of me. One day at a time, one loving session at a time, one moment at a time, in a sea of what seems to be endless moments...

I will do the same for his body, which will be skinny and saggy all over towards the end of our journey. 

And I would love every bit of it, 

and our beautiful shared moments, 

in this horrid ugly simulated existence.

We would occasionally say to each other, and perhaps at the start of the journey more so than towards the end...

Let's reverse the shit out of this, baby! 

(Amen)

Trauma mama and charm immunity

The eclipse came and went, the storm came and went, the rain came and stayed, and I am happy, I am. It's the first time in a while, but another miracle happened; I am remembering who I am, and how I did my magic, all those decades past, keeping aloof while everything and everyone busy pulling me down. Perhaps what the eclipses of last Autumn started would end by this eclipse season. I am remembering my pre-revolution, pre-moves, pre-corona, pre-lockdowns, pre-explosion, pre-business collapse, pre-heartbreak self... and dare I say, it feels unfamiliarly safe, and warm.  

It doesn't matter what walls are keeping me, whose ceilings I'm under, what building, what street, which neighborhood. It doesn't matter who does what to me, or whom says what about me, or around me. I am remembering how to regulate the chemicals in my brain all naturally, I am remembering how to work around the corruptions, the deceptions, the mischiefs. I am remembering how to shield myself against the manipulations, the distortions, the inversions. I'm recalling how to spot the aversions!

It's raining and it's beautiful, cleansing and cleaning. I am grateful for another miracle, for connecting, for ascending, for detaching, for the remembrance.

42 years in this existence madness, but I made it, every time, through every single cycle, one way or another. I just had to recall the untainted, pure, home space I used to embody. The heavenly, safe, Godly bubble I contained myself / used to be contained in. And I did, and I am. 

I spent the weekend doing the small things that make me happy; cooking, baking, listening and moving to music, comforting old songs, exciting new songs. Taking photos, dry skies and wet skies, the sunsets and the sunshine on my little things, new nail polish color, new / old ways of thinking. I contemplated on the longing I have in me, I didn't push it away, I sat with it. 

I had many interactions with different men and friends, I kept watchful of any exchange that brought me down. I got many invitations to coffee and lunches and dinners. None got me excited, I declined them all. I kept attentive and protective of my mind and heart, and physical space, it paid off. I sat with the needing and desiring, I can't settle for things anymore, the price has been too steep every time I did that in the past. I am connecting with myself truly, and remembering too, how to love myself. That famous flood of loving energy I'm known of, well I keep solely to myself nowadays. I only just need to re-wire my non-receiving self in a way to start receiving, so I can bask in it.

I dwelt on the trauma stuck in me, of not having being loved by mother, and having grown without directions, guidance, or any sense of self or self preserving concept. All the messed up situations it got me in, all the troubles, all the pain. I focused on where the trauma resides in my system, I brought attention to all parts of me that act out from lack of - and ultimate and desperate need for - nurturing. Also the aspect of me that excessively needs to do things on my own, recognising where and how I actually need - and can only thrive on - the other, through receiving, sharing, co-existing...

I am teaching myself how not to attach to people who trigger in me the same kind of response, emotions, and actions as my narcissistic mother did. I am wanting to break the old sickly patterns. I am learning how to keep my emphatic side to myself, nurturing and nourishing me, instead of others in the desperate hope of acceptance and love. I am stopping my past traumas from acting out in my present life.

I came up with a new useful tool in that aspect, I don't keep numbers of most people anymore - except work and family or convenience / logistics contacts - to stop myself from reaching out, needlessly. Whenever they themselves reach out, I ponder upon whether they put enough effort, and whether or not they're genuine and caring / giving in their approach, to consider reciprocating. When I spot out their typical self-centeredness, I disengage. I don't say much, I just don't interact or answer to silly, lazy, low effor, and hallow words anymore. 

My politeness and gentleness has got me only so far! I am keeping space and remain open for the opposite, if at all it happens. Otherwise, I shall guard myself, like never before. Very occasionally I would block a person, but I did a few recently. Those are the ones who would go on ignoring all my boundaries after having, clearly, directly, and often repeatedly stated them, what I want or do not want, my desires and needs too. These are the vampire idiots usually relying solely on my good-heartedness and softness to get their own ways with their usual charm. Eventually, there won't remain any of these interactions, and I shall be forgotten as the naiive and exceptionally soft and easy trauma mama.  

I sure am learning and have learned quite a bit about myself and people in the recent years. Now it's putting things to practice time.

The more I practice blocking out what I do not desire to have in my life, the more blessings I will welcome in, just like in the good old days, simple and straight to the point. 

Only the longings will nag at me, and I'm learning how to be with them instead of attempting anything to escape them. I am also remembering how beautiful it used to be, the longing itself, for its a clear and loud sign of this human experience. And I am indeed fully here, just like I know I am going to be fully there, once I exit this realm...

This remembrance itself is the current manifested miracle,

and aren't I grateful! 

Indeed I am.

Oh well

Heed the call, if you must

If I manage to detach myself from the place, if I manage to get some cash on me, I would love to live like a nomad, with only just myself, few belongings that I need for living, and my writing pad!

If I manage to turn things around and have life work with me, not against me, I'll gain my wisdom of past, and get in touch with my core again, my passion, my true calling. 

If I manage to detach from the pain and leave behind, outgrow it, shed it like an old skin, I will remember who I once was. 

People kept asking me about Travelling since the start of the whole madness 4 years ago, and I kept saying, I want to stay. Different men invited me over to their different places in different countries and I always declined. I had no intention in Travelling whatsoever. I still don't, but there's this itching, life calling, detaching from everything that is backwards and hindering and all setbacks.

I miss freedom like a very old friend whom I thought I forgot but the mention of him visiting revives all that's been buried, and then I see him as though we never parted. 

I'm a gypsy, but I stayed put for so long, in order to grow roots, in the home, for the child that needed containing. Now that she's long gone, will I remember who I once once before all the nesting was due?!

Perhaps this is what's needed now, even less bounds to the place, less things, less weights. Free, light, and roaming. Perhaps then the art will flow again. Through change, variety, constant move. Like the olden days... Like my young and wild self.

Will I get the courage of old again? I do not know for now, but I know what isn't working...

Ill give this and myself more time, to adjust and reroot, if it's meant to be. 

If not, the roads are calling. 

Despite the madness, 

The world chaos, 

And the absence of any security on any piece of land. 

But if it's my spirit's calling,

I must heed the call, 

For what's the point of this existence otherwise.

(Either that, or I'm just losing my mind, in a different format now.)

Quiet!

I was totally oblivious to the horrors happening in the weekend past until Tuesday afternoon. The irony of posting the Spirals post on that specific day... What timing! There is no escape, I went back to square one again. I've been bed ridden since Wednesday, extreme fatigue, and excruciating pain in my neck, and shoulders. I'm so stiff, I could hardly move. I bought myself the cheapest drug to numb myself: bread and cheese. I can't tolerate either, and so I've clogged and blocked my system! needed moments of not feeling things anymore. Too much suffering in the world, madness, chaos, and unconsciousness! I'm at my wits' end. 

There was no visiting the Municipality, no sorting out of the pressing ceiling and walls problem; they're closed, until further notice! The committee in the building couldn't care less, neither does my dear neighbouring sister. What more can this weary mind and ultimately wrecked body take?! A responsibility of one more matter faltering on my guard?! My inability of rescuing it might be the last push for me to totally lose it, I can't have another failure, I'm barely holding on lately. 

I decided that if I remove myself from the place, though I had settled to stay, for a very, very long time - then perhaps I would have less things to worry about. If I could only detach from it, not consider it my own, maybe. I need to only just worry about myself for now, for a while anyway, my mind, my body, my work! I haven't managed to work in months on end. I need to earn my keep!!! But if I detach, then perhaps I would feel lighter and I would have more energy to spare on myself. Because, seriously, I am not doing well... I am so tired from not doing well for so long at this stage. 

And then, there comes the war, and it's getting closer and closer. Everything is closing up on me, I feel suffocated, but it won't end just yet. And I can't see people, I am not feeling stable at all. But I need to see people, because I am losing it on my own. 

Perhaps I use this as a stepping stone instead of the forever home. Perhaps this is a transition. I need to latch on to something though, anything at all, to keep me going. I am not able to get to my workbench at all. I'm frozen! 

Perhaps I could write for a living. 

If only there was an Exit push button. 

I am just wishing and waiting for the rain now, plenty of it, storms too, where people would get locked in. So I could enjoy for a while at least a bit of silence and quiet. I'm unable to think, I'm unable to function, the city is overbearing. I can't be doing this to myself agaig; looking for an ultimate place, an ultimate space... I am only just running away from my pain. I need soothing, I need people. No, I need special connections, intimacy, quiet moments, touch, whispers, gentle sayings, and kind doings. This place is fucking up with my mind again. I am missing Chris so much, and perhaps it is the memories I have of him in every corner here, perhaps I am in touch with my very deep and supressed need for companionship, and this place and the times now are just bringing these up to the surface. I am feeling lonely, for the first time, in a very long time. Truly lonely, not in need for noise and fillers, only just for true, close connection, and intimate interactions. And knowing... I miss being seen and known. I am tired from my monologues, falling in love with people's very details, knowing them inside out, their glorious aspects, their darkest sides and imperfections too, loving all of them, writing about and dwelling on them. I am tired from the one sidedness, I spent one long life doing that. I am tired, if it's going to end now, let me try to do it on a high note. Let me enjoy the embrace of someone's passion and tenderness. 

I bled like crazy this week, I shall stop soon, perhaps tomorrow, with the eclipse. I am not looking forward to that eclipse, nor the one after that, most especially not that other one. But I keep going, perhaps it lasts only for a short while now, but maybe too for some other 42 years!

Oh God if I could shut this mind, shut this system for a while. 

Quiet please, 

please....

please. 

A baby is born

My new monstera deliciosa leaf. 💚

No fenestration on this one whatsoever. 

She also grew quite so tall before unfurling, 

and it all happened so fast.

Spirals

Calm after the storm, at long last. 

I finally started to feel at home, having placed absolutely everything in their designated space. There's a little room for breathing now, stretching and dancing too, I'm grateful. I slept early, woke up early, had a good start of the week, that was yesterday. Come night time, and after already having winded down, I started to get alert again by midnight. I watched a movie, then I spent nearly two hours listening to different audios I've recorded of old "friends" on my phone. I laughed and cried... Oh how much has changed and how much has remained the same, in those years past! 

I'm on a Woody Allen movies watching spree, some I feel like re-watching, others I have discover. I haven't been able to bring myself to see anything in a long time, only just a specific kind of news and content. But I needed to look after my mind, I needed to balance those chemicals. I needed more types of Art, I needed to bring movies back to my life, for a certain kind of therapy. I started off by watching a movie I had on my to watch list for years, not being able to bring myself to watch it until just now. Mother, 2017. What a movie! I'm proud of myself having brought myself to see it all, and sit with all the pain it has triggered. But it wasn't just Mother, I was triggered by every character I saw on the screen, I related to them. Was it a mere coincidence, was I too emotional, or is it true that I have all these aspects in me and sides to me that I see a representation of in my favorite movies and favorite characters. In Husbands and Wives, I was Rain, Sally, and Judy! I am Mother in Mother. I am Truman in Truman Show. I am Annie Hall in Annie Hall, Alvy too... 

I thought I wanted an escape from myself and my own emotions, thoughts and feelings. I went to the movies, but then they brought more of that into the screen. There is no escaping this human existence, it's everywhere I go, I just need to find a way to organize things in my head about it. Come to think of it, now that we're close to the time it all happened last year, I have indeed lost my mind. 

I'm going to have to find new / old ways of putting things in their designated space, just like in the tangible world, like the physical home. My home is in chaos, time to start organizing and compartmentalising. 

Water the plants too, while I'm at it... 

A year ago, after an episode of indulging myself with pleasures, I went cold turkey, to balance things out. There has never been a middle ground for me. I always had a huge problem doing life, there has been only just extremes of pain, or pleasure. Pain was OK, I knew it inside out, and it me, but pleasure always came with a high price that I was almost never OK to pay. My spirit called for presence, and so I always had to heed the call. Pleasure was often too worldly, often time underworldly, when it involved people. Pleasure almost always involved people... Also addictions, food, and food addictions, and addiction to people. This paragraph here sums up all of my life, and this entire blog. 

A year ago, I said no, to addictions, people, over indulgences, escapes, and I wanted to tidy up and clear things in my head. Instead, I brought total drought. I wanted to keep to the simple things, and the basics. Home was it, Home was all that was needed, and she has been a big part of it, for so long. But she decided she wanted out, then at there, at my most vulnerable and sensitive time, she decided to withdraw. 

I had been suffering the withdrawals since... 

In one of my pleas I told them, straight and direct, I am losing my mind. 
In one of my pleas, I told them I was having a nervous breakdown. 
In many of my pleas, I begged them to go easy on me, my mind, my heart... 

They went to waste, 
I went to taste... 

But here I am, putting myself together, one piece at a time, moment by moment, as I recall how to do so, without the underworld interacting with my every step. For though the pain has been so very intense, but so was ascending... 

Today, Benjamin Clementine is my salve, and boost of feel good chemicals. 

It's OK to indulge myself in his soulful music, and my eyes with his beauty and grace. 

Later in this week, I will meet Mogdad. It's been 7 months since our last meeting. This isn't a new cicle, this is a different level of the spiral. 

The song playing now in the background is Last Movement of Hope, it has no lyrics. 

I love Benjamin to bits. 

and I am grateful...

Endgame

No coffee today, I'm back to my herbal teas. There isn't much time left for new addictions. I need to rise again, stop the city and the noise from getting to me. A lot is happening, I ought to tune in, fine tune, and adjust accordingly. My inner world and problems shan't be a hindrance. 

I missed the clear air again. It seems that between 7:30 and 9:30 the air is the most polluted and heavy, from excessive cars activity and whatnot. I didn't bother open the windows, the AC for few minutes will suffice for now. I'll open them again in few hours when it's clear(er). 

There isn't much time left for the pain and the crying over the past. There is no use for the worrying about the future. The endgame is here, we go home after a long day at school (work) / in (prison cell) / life. We shall leave all that has happened there, there. We won't need any of it at Home. All lessons learned, hard and against (the human) nature as it might have been, needed or completely un-necessary as it has been. 

It has indeed been so long, so much so, intricate and intertwined too, that it messed with our mind, we took it for a (forced) forever home. How wrong we've been! 

Now try to decipher and discern, clear out, downsize, minimilize, focus, sharpen up, and stay alert. 

Ready. 

Get set. 

Go! 

Just another day

I'm not up early as I'd ideally liked. There is too much noise already, and though it rained few hours ago, the air is very heavy with city debris. The infamous yellow band over Beirut can be spotted at this early hour of the day already. I had a random playlist from the suggestions on Soundcloud playing as I preparing my coffee, a cool one popped up; Michael Jackson's Smooth Criminal's cover on Oud with frame drum. I smiled.. I don't need the coffee, I just happen to want it lately, it's going to be another fad and I will quit it again. Oral fixation is a real thing, I've been fighting my binge / emotional eating badly lately, it's activated again, I will curb it in due time, when I have the strength again. One battle at a time, I can't possibly fight and win them all simultaneously. Yesterday I had to speak to stupid neighbours and family members. At this stage in life, nobody gives a fuck about anyone or anything anymore. It's extremely hard to communicate when boundaries have been broken too, meaning we can't even stick to politeness and distance when there are disagreements - which is always the case lately. So enmeshement, agression, hostility, apathy... you name it. Yet, things are very interconnected, when it comes to survival, services, utilities, etc. I am so tired, I cry myself to sleep at night, it's the only way I can release it all off me so I can reset for another new day. 

I read through few of the older posts recently, and I got so frustrated at my bad English and all the mistakes, but I didn't bother change anything. For now, I shall just use this tool freely as I have intended for it to be used, I shan't worry about imperfections and things that could be fine tuned. I am just hanging on to anything for now, and this space here, is keeping me going, one way or another... 

I also need to put myself together again after all that has happened in my life up to this moment, most especially the last 10 months. I need to look after my mind, I need to mend my heart. Writing seems to be the excellent exercice for my mind, and a breather for my aching heart. Through writing I also get to touch base with my spirit, making sure all is in harmony, nothing has strayed away. It's OK to suffer, it's not OK to falter... 

It's been 30 years since I started journaling, I wrote a poem, about a crush I had on a man, it was a very smart and beautiful poem (for my age then anyway). I remember sharing it proudly with few friends then. There was this rush of intense emotions, feelings, insights, I used to have, and the flood of love I felt within was so big I used to have a very pressing urge to talk about it and to share it, to make it known, felt too, by others. Not much has changed in this department in 30 years, if anything, I just miss my short story writing self, I used to do that when I was only 7 or 8 years old. Come to think of it now, I was a genius, but since it takes a genius to recognise one, I went on all that time being unrecognized. But thanks to my consciousness and awareness, I seem to be doing OK for a woman in my age and my lifestyle / history. If I see me, this is all that is needed. And I do indeed, I love myself, I cherish my own company, I enjoy my own creations and ways of expressions. I am only a channel, I let it all come through me and out... what beautiful existence this is, if only it hasn't been so tempered with! I also always miss home, and I feel the closest to it when I am creating and self expressing...

I don't feel most inspired today, I had an awkward start of the day. I will leave it here, hoping to make progress in my work station, and hopefully rest, and maybe have my favorite after the rain walk. 

Sobering up from the move

It's been almost five weeks now. The rain came and went, then came again. I am sitting in my writing corner, same as it has been for so many years before, except, a lot has changed now. I did the ritual of smudging and burning incense yesterday around sunset, like the good old days. I said little prayers, the place and my body could do with loving thoughts and kind actions. I am looking out through the terrace door in the same old fashion, I have the door a little open so I could get the cold morning breeze and savor the petrichor. It's still quite wet outside, the city needed the washing for sure. One difference is clear though, I am finding it very hard to bring myself to "enjoy" anything at all. These small things used to bring content and joy to my heart, nowadays, I am continuously occupied and worried. Last thing I now have on my plate is the ceiling cracking problem. I have to go tomorrow to the municipality building and ask for an architect to come and inspect the building and the problem for us. It needs to be done by two people from the building, so unfortunately, I have to take a neighbour with me, and the one that I detest the most offered to join! It is yet again somebody else's fault, and I have to, yet again, pick up the crap! Daughter didn't bother herself report the problem to me when it happened in the recent months, nor sister to tell me about the big problems that the neighbours had faced in their places because of the big building's water tank above my roof, and its dreadful effect on some apartments, or to bother inspect our place here. After all, there isn't much to show off about doing the right, decent, and honorable action... I couldn't detest loud people more, and they're everywhere now, in all places, doing all sorts of loud, hollow actions, and I just won't start on the loud, hollow words department! I need and miss the quiet existence inside my own safe little world. But until then, I gotta make sure I have an actual safe, non-cracking ceiling, and walls! 

Who would have thought that after all I have been through this year, I have to go through something such as this, with all what I had to deal with in this place alone thus far! But then again, these are the days, no time for complaining. I will only pause a little, sometime, some mornings, and vent a little, when it's possible. If some words, with a coffee, on a random morning is all I get once in a while, I will take the opportunity, gladly. I'm grateful for everything though, I am free after all, I couldn't have asked for more. Freedom has always come with a very high price, and I was always happy to pay it, and nowadays, well yes Sir, now more so than ever before, most especially because the going got tough! I got to keep going...

There's a pressing need for human connection though, and without that, I'm afraid havoc wreaks over my brain and system. I keep giving people chances, and they keep fucking me around. It's not intentional, they're just totally absent-minded, and have become soul-less. I cry often, it helps a little, and I pray, frequently. 

I do miss the birds for sure, but I sighted different birds at different times getting curious about my existence, so there is hope. Perhaps I'll get a bird feeder, give my bitter sister downstairs a reason more to resent me. Did I mention daughter lives with her now, and her boyfriend? They're a happy family! Everyone got what they needed.  Sister can now pretend she has the full life she always wanted, sickly!... But then the same can be said about both her patehtic, deranged boyfriend, and my poor ego tripping, lost daughter.

Ara says, "some people choose to eat crap over going hungry". Now I know exactly what he means by that. I miss him, it's been 6 or 7 years since we last met in person, he came to say goodbye to us here then, at this very place. But we talk very often, if not at these most strange and hardest times, then when. He's my only friend, in fact, friend is a small word for him. He is and has been much more than that. I say little gratitude prayers for his constant - though not physical - presence in my life. 

I am tired and drained not just because I have been going non-stop physically for the last almost 2 and half months, but because I haven't been able to sit down and get creative since. Body and mind have been constantly preoccupied with things related to survival of very pressing nature. I usually struggle the most when I don't get to be creative / productive. But it's happening soon hopefully, yesterday I re-arranged the places of things once again. I now have settled for the identical setup that I used to have at the very start, 15 years ago. Back then I had returned with daughter from England for good, and after spending few months with my sister at her place, and almost losing my mind, I decided to move us, myself and Yasmina, up here to start our life anew. She had her room, and I had mine; one room fits all: my floor bed, my couch, my work station, my writing station. This also happens to be close to the time I got starting on the jewelry making journey, it was in Autumn 2008 when she started kindergarten, and I had found myself alone with some free time at hand for the first time in over 3 years then since she was born. And now, 15 years later, I'm alone with time on my hand, again, and I must venture and expand. 19 years in the making, I am fully and officially being released from my motherhood duty. I do not know where the road will take me, I just hope my aching heart would start healing, so I could set my spirit free again.

I still love waking up early, and in the city most especially, considering the (noise) pollution, now it's important that I stick to this routine, more so than ever. My ears haven't gotten used to the sounds yet, it's going to take me much longer than I thought, and I haven't been sleeping well or enough, napping is almost impossible too. Eventually, I will feel at home again, one day out of the blue. On another note, I've been going frequently to the stores, I did a couple of trips for work as well not just groceries, getting myself accustomed to things again, reminding myself of my old ways, the faces, the shops. I'm quite rusty, both physically and mentally, but at least, it's a start. A lot has changed, but a lot has remained the same too.

Big part of me striving on creativity has caused me to go totally blocked, stagnant, and eventually in so much pain, because of the tools that went extinct over the last 5 years, slowly but surely. What is an artist without tools after all!?! Whatever I have ever managed to achieve in the past, when it comes to success in business, was thanks to my creativity, grit, but mostly, tools! The banks, the shipping options, the access to abroad market, the access to local markets, the mobility, the exposure, the cash flow. Without these, which I started to lose bit by bit starting autumn of 2018, I couldn't achieve much. Earning my keep solely is the last of it, whatever right I was doing in that department all those years past - against all odds, was derived from my creativity and excitement in finding ways, loop holes, and solutions for the messed up, limited, and crippled system in this country and my own peculiar social situation. These days, I am trying to remind myself of that aspect of me, because although I seriously need to get back to the flow of things, I mean although I don't pay rent now, I still have bills to pay and food to bring to the table, still, the survival motive alone could never bring me to the state of mind / being I used to be at when I made it work for me in the past. I did it time and again, without education, without experience, without support, while being a total loner, an extra sensitive, an introvert, and a very independent creature at that... through creativity!

Long story short, I'm grateful I am in the city again, because... options and tools! I would have never thought I was such a city girl until all that has happened in the last 5 years, but especially 3 years. I learned so much about the world, people, and myself during that time. I need to rebirth myself again now, with all that has been learned, seen, experienced. I am still 42 after all, this still is the same year, we got 3 more months to go, and whatever I sensed and felt before about this year, has indeed materialized. 

I am safe. 

I am guided. 

Amen.

Let's go baby girl, you got this! 

And as Chris used to tell me when he'd see the spark in my eyes at the thought of some crazy, courageous, leap of faith action I had the itch to act upon: 

"Let's do this shit, baby!"

 (Another asshole that I miss.)

Let's do this shit indeed!..................

                                                                      

Drier land

"Just a little time
Till I come to shore
Somewhere that I've seen
But never been before

I am driftwood now
I am homeward bound
Pull me from the sea
Save what's left of me
'cause I'm tired and worn
From the tides and storms

So forgive my wrongs

I am driftwood now
I am homeward bound
Pull me from the sea
Save what's left of me
'cause I'm tired and worn
From the tides and storms
And I made my plans
Back on dryer land

So forgive my wrongs

Loss has helped me find
Blessings in disguise
Showed me where they hide
Opened up my eyes

I am driftwood now
I am homeward bound
Pull me from the sea
Save what's left of me
'cause I'm tired and worn
From the tides and storms

So forgive my wrongs

I am driftwood now
I am homeward bound
Pull me from the sea
Save what's left of me
'cause I'm tired and worn
From the tides and storms
And I made my plans
Back on dryer land

So forgive my wrongs"

- Sami Yusuf

The Song

Shielded

I finally managed to squeeze a little (temporary) corner for myself. I unpacked the last box from the move only yesterday. I had to make room for my creativity / mind, I was losing it... Today I must tackle the work station, I'm dying to get making and doing again. I don't know how I can turn things into money anymore, but I have a feeling the good old flow of the olden days will come back to me once I start applying myself this time around. Very little space and it's messing with my mind, but I can do this, I know. Gotta beat them voices of failure and despair. I got shit under control, one step at a time, one task at a time, one day at a time. 

 انا مع الله ان الله معي

Lentils soup

I ought to have lost my mind, but I keep holding unto something. Something is keeping me going, I'm not sure what it is. I keep losing hope, faith keeps bringing it back. It's just too much to be here, witnessing all there is to see. Yes, I was prepared, but I am so very tired. I keep ascending, I'm both here and gone...

The beginning has long happened, we're not in the start of the ending, we're in the middle of it, I just didn't notice. Things are escalating fast. 

There's no room for wallowing and self pity, but the avatar keeps pushing me down. 

Apathy is king, nothing to be taken personal, it is what it is... 

There wasn't much for the day but processing the news and the new faces, bodies, and revelations. 

But then I had to cook my meal of the day. It's OK if it's late, it's OK if lentils is all there was, it's OK if I needed to feed a whole lot of people for my own nurturing, it's OK to think of all those whom I gave my special lentils soup treatment, it's OK to miss her, it's OK to eat alone after midnight. 

We got to keep going, 

Level up now. 

Also, please, please, send help!

Hello?

There's nothing wrong with the faulty world. I'm just heart broken, and in shock.

What do the words do at this stage? Nothing at all.

I'm on my own inside my head and soul, ready to abort this life mission any time the chance arises. 

I'll welcome any departure opportunity. It isn't a coincidence I've been moving my whole entire life. I'm ready to uproot and go home any moment, all the time. 

Except we're entrapped in this delusion of existence. I exist simultaneously here and there. 

Any sign of Home in the eyes of the lost ones gives me a little false hope. Beggers can't be choosers, I'll take anything, just you show me presence. 

Pretty please. 

I'm 

so

very 

tired! 

Erratic

I was finally out of the house yesterday for the first time in three weeks since the move. I feared for my mind, body definitely needed the walk too. I did my good old routine of grocery shopping from the close by supermarket. I looked up all the changes, staff, faces, the street, shops, gone and new...

I was overcome with a flood of emotions before I left. My heart and mind have been occupied processing way too many memories, and worrying about the future. I had to slow things down, to come back to the present moment, try to make any sense of it. Nothing made sense, but I focused on the small things. Grocery shopping does it every time. It's necessary, it's time consuming, it's distractive, it gets the body going and the senses active. Also, needless to say, I was in the heart of the city now, the hussle ans bustle is the reason why I'm here again. I wish to lose myself in the traffic, take my mind away from my own chaos. 

I went to the Indian shops, got myself some of the usual, ripe mangoes, incense, and black seeds. Checked the new / old shops there too. Many prostitutes running wild, it wasn't even 8:00 yet.

All changes duly noted, headed back home, new neighbours too. They don't know me, I don't know them. Still, the small talk and casual chats between all whom I encountered was heartwarming. I needed exactly that. 

Sister texts me when I was coming up, dropping shopping bags, then going out again, asking if I'd like to eat with them. Them being her and my own daughter. She has her now, she always wanted to have what's mine. I politely declined. I have never wanted to be left alone by the so called family and friends more so than now. I need to stop the bleeding...

The writing isn't flowing, I'm struggling still with the downsizing, my mind is erratic, and overwhelmed with the objects around me. I didn't realize just how much accustomed I have become to sleeping in an empty room. I miss the space for sure, but these aren't the times for wallowing.

I'll give my system more time, I will get my peace again, a little bit closer every new day, with the help of the weather changing too in due time. 

I need to get back to my workbench too, which I know would have an immediate calming effect and a system reboot.

Very soon hopefully, I left work till last. 

I'll be then home, truly. 

In between

I am counting the days till we meet in person, I have a strong feeling about you, like you do about me. But I'm not just merely swept away, I am grieving still and licking my wounds, and got so much on my plate. Most of my days are spent trying to put the new place in order, contain my mind, control my thoughts. I'm growing a new skin, and I'm very sensitive and fragile as it stands. Still, somehow, and dispute all, I seem to like my exposure to you. When you looked back at me on the screen last night after addressing your friend and found me giggling, I was actually melting a little. That new angle from which I could see your face and eyes when you turned gave me a new insight to you, a different aspect of you, and the more to cherish and admire. Your eyes couldn't look more pure. Your face gestures, your voice and words, so clear and direct. Although I couldn't decipher the Italian, I could almost make sense of what you were saying from your demeanor. A smile forced itself unto my face, turned into a grin, then a giggle. I wasn't laughing, but I couldn't tell you the whole story when you asked. I have decided to refrain from giving you compliments, I've seen what it does to you. I'm honoring our deal you see, let's indeed do the odd thing, and turn this beautiful connection into a genuine friendship, which we both very much need. Your pain has touched me, the simple and little words you speak about your daughter and your personal struggle hits home.

I see you, 

"honest" one.

Home, unfurling...

August charm

August man, you charmed me differently. Mixed race, and a mixed face. Your eyes, they tell oh so many stories. Such protection, and what guardianship you keep over them! They charm even in their continuous squinting state. And that most saddest, most gracious smile... does things to the soul. You've touched me, I'm moved by your mere existence. Your voice and demeanor, your words, and your silences... There's endearment in your face and grace, and grace in the very space you take. It touched my inner wounds and I cracked a little. I am sorry for having moved you the same way, I don't mean for those encounters to have so much meaning, but occasionally, they do. Your pain and mine united for brief moments, and then there were comforting words, pleasant thoughts, and plenty more silences. I loved you in those. What Uncanny familiarity! There's mystery too, so many tales revealed through the pauses, and so much hidden within the words. We are indeed crazy, each in our own unique way, but we met on common grounds. A small world indeed. 

I wish you well, 

and I'm kept hungry for more... 

Emotional slip

I allow myself to miss you only on Sundays, sometimes. There are scribbles on the walls here and there, that's just so typical of you, nothing I didn't expect. I wonder sometimes about the mental agony you could be going through. I don't miss the everlasting chasing, and my continuous futile attempt to please you, uplift you, get you out of your mental rot, or explain it all to you time and again, this perceptional imprisonment you're at. I couldn't think of anything more tiring than decades of that. Two quarters of my lifetime are gone and done with, now I start the third quarter. Without you because you chose everything else over me, and I'm fine with that for now. Let's see how far I can go now without the weights and the pulling down. But I miss you, sometimes, on Sundays, sometimes.

I see you in your growing up phases in front me, this corner and that space, these memories and those other ones. Always chasing and trying to satisfy you. Make up for the madness that is this most messed up existence. It wasn't my fault, nothing was of my doing, but I loved you. 

I still do, obviously, and I miss you, sometimes, but mostly today, for it's Sunday. 

I hope you're going to outsmart me with all the tools you have now, and break them those damned generational patterns, from both sides. Don't play the game, don't play games, quit it already, won't you please!

Oh don't mind me, I'm just blabbering again. 

I've decided to allow myself to feel you, on Sundays, sometimes. 

You're still deep within me, but I'm learning to release you, a little bit more every new day. 

On Sundays too, sometimes. 

I hope you're in a good shape baby girl. 

Truly now, 

my darling baby.