Crazy is as Crazy Does

This is such an obvious title, that it sounds like one I would have written before! It shouldn’t be any surprise – yes, I’m crazy! Quite sporadically, sometimes regularly, just off-the-rails crazy!! Well, it depends who you talk to, I guess. I don’t like the term “normal”, as that’s a line I’ve spent years veering far away from. But it’s not quite being “unnormal” that makes me crazy. What makes me appear “crazy” is my attitude towards life – life is for living!

Now, see, I don’t like taking uncertain risks. I’m not into doing really stupid things, like climbing a really tall building, jumping off without any support, and yelling ‘YOLO!’ No, that’s not quite the sort of “crazy” I mean. I do take risks, I do go out to a new pub when I don’t feel like going out, when I’d rather lock myself away and cry. I’ve gone out, met new people, likeminded people, people who don’t mind my sort of crazy. I take risks by venturing into new territories, attempting new things, trying new foods, spending a little bit too much at Christmas because I want to get the people I care about nice things, pushing myself slightly out of my comfort zone now and then. But these are things that a lot of people do, right? These are things that wouldn’t be classified as crazily adventurous.

But, aha! Here we come to it! I'm an introvert. I'm a depressive. These may be things that many people do, but they are really tough for me. So how do I approach these things? How do I go about in these ventures, these occasional nights out, buying (I hope) interesting gifts, pushing myself forward? Well, that’s the really tough part, especially for depressive introverts like me. That’s where I let people see the real me.

It’s not an easy thing to do, to go out without any “protection”, aka without a “mask” on, without pretending to be someone else. I did that for many years. I used to try to fit into crowds where I didn’t belong, tried to “pretend” that I belonged, because I didn’t want to be alone, as I was tired and sad from locking myself away from people. I learnt the hard way that that doesn’t work. People know that you’re not one of them, that you're different. Whatever you do, whatever you try, you stick out. So, I changed. I started wearing the clothes I wanted to, without caring what people thought. I started doing things my way, going to the places where I wanted to be. But whenever you have to start again, do that for the first time, then you are truly exposed. People who see you on your own, dancing without a care, letting yourself go free to the music, they don’t know what to make of you. You are the “strange” one, as you let yourself just be, you show parts of yourself that many people keep hidden. Ah, to be truly free, to be a true free being, one of the first things you have to do is to care less what other people think. That is, perhaps, one of the hardest blocks to ever let lose. But, as soon as people see your real self, the hidden one, then you find out who your true friends are.

But there’s another step. Finding someone like you to share your life with. If you find that person, what do you do? Well, you strip away all layers, including the dark ones that you still keep hidden. You let yourself be as free, wild and crazy as you want to be. From flashing underwear, because you realise that we all just have a body underneath, to wearing crazy clothes, to pulling stupid faces, to food fights, to… There are so many innocent levels of crazy! Kids can do it, so why can’t we as adults? Yet, ‘you must be drunk, mad, to do that!’ But the innocence of kids is still praised, the freedom of expression which many of us lose in adult life.

I don’t need any alcohol to let out my “inner child”. I want to live free, to be able to express myself in any manner I want to. Yes, within reason, always within reason! I care about people, so I don’t do anything that would deliberately hurt another. It is my caring, my heart, that allows me to be adventurous in choosing gifts others may not think of. But in a world which fights harder to suppress anything people do, simple innocent crazy becomes more important.

Let your innocence, that inner child, run free. As long as no one is getting hurt, as long as you’re not doing something fantastically stupid, what’s the harm? You are free.

Am I a Follower, or a Free Thinker?

I think that it’s always been hard to say whether the path we follow is truly our own or shaped for us, especially in this modern world of social media and media frenzy. So much of what we do and say is affected by the world around us, from popular posts shared on sites like Facebook, to the daily news. Too many people just follow all the information blindly, without thinking about what lies behind it, where the truth really is. I’ve always believed that, in choosing which information to accept or to investigate further and which to disregard, that I am exercising free thought and not following the crowd. Yet, perhaps out of a need to feel like I belong, I still find myself falling into “group patterns” and following and accepting most of what these groups have to say. Does that make me just another follower, too?

Whilst I can lead, I don’t see myself as a leader. There are times when I don’t mind being in the spotlight, when I feel the need to be visible (and sometimes I’m visible when I’m less inclined to be, simply because of the fact that I don’t care anymore what people think and don’t hide most of who I am). There are other times when I shun the spotlight, hide away indoors, where people can only see or find me if they know where to look. Throughout my life, I’ve adapted my ideas and beliefs as I’ve grown older and have learnt more about the world, change being one of the most inevitable parts of life. In some ways I have become more defined, in others I have simply shifted one niche for another, always going and arriving at where I feel most comfortable. Who I am now has taken years to develop, a lifetime. Yet I still wonder at times whether it was simply an accident that I arrived at where I am now, or how much the outside world has had an influence upon those decisions.

For those that believe in predestiny, we do not make any free choices at all, as everything is already mapped out for us. I do admit that I partly believe in predestiny myself, that we choose before we are born what sort of life we are going to lead, but that not everything is fixed, that we still have some choices along the way in how to reach that final destination. But then I also look at other things in my life, from my fears to my hobbies. I grew up in a family that crafted, so I still craft myself today, even if it’s not always in the same way that I grew up with. I grew up in a menagerie of animals, with the first pets in our household being cats. I have two cats myself today. I shunned Christian beliefs after bad experiences and turned to other beliefs that called more to my soul, yet I still have minor fears now and then today because of some of the things I was taught during the time that my family took me along with them to church. And yet…

And yet, I do not follow the news on a regular basis, as I know how easy it is to get caught up in the fearmongering that is encouraged by all the mostly negative news bulletins. As a teenager, once I broke away from the fold, I started following my own way more, eventually (after a period of stubborn immovability) becoming more accepting and adaptable to the ideas of others. After learning from experience, I try to promote positive ideals more, rather than encouraging the endless stream of negative information that most of us see or hear on a daily basis. I am becoming who I believe I want to be, rather than letting others dictate to me how I should be. And yet…

And yet I still get caught up in the fear from time to time, perhaps out of sheer human weakness. And I still fear that, because of my acceptance and adaptability, no matter how many see me as a unique individual, that the path I’m following isn’t as much my own as I might believe. Whether it be predestiny, or external stimuli from those around us, we are all a product of the world we live in, whether we like it or not. Perhaps, in that respect, whilst those of us with good intentions can’t forgive or excuse, it is possible to understand extremists. For good or bad, those few are still following the voice that shouts the loudest to them, just like the majority of the rest of us, trying to make sense of the chaos that is the world around us.

Letting Go

There are so many things in life that you can’t fight for, like love, peace, happiness. At various points I’ve tried to fight for them all, with a greedy desperation, thinking that they all must come to me at some point if I just tried hard enough. But all I ended up doing was driving them away. In reality, in that fight, you eventually end up fighting against what it is you’re trying to gain, because in fighting it can do nothing but take a negative turn. It’s not just the friendly fire, but also the stress and pressure of the fight. Fighting can only ever do but one thing: destroy.

I’d realised this lesson before, but I kept repeating the mistake through my dark hours, when everything kept feeling like it was falling apart. I was so desperate for something to go right for once, for something to cling on to, but it all kept slipping through my fingers, pulling away from me. So many people running scared, so many pitfalls that I didn’t see in my distraction. It was only when I was on the verge of losing everything that I understood what I needed to do: let go.

It’s like that film, The NeverEnding Story. Everything is breaking, almost everything is gone, but just at that point when all has collapsed, the boy stands up and lets go of his own pain in order to save them all. That’s the point where I am at now, except the only person I need to save is myself. Unfortunately I can’t wish for a luck dragon, nor can I wish myself a better world, but I can wish to be a stronger and better person, thereby making it a reality by working towards it. I have a choice to move on from all the trauma and mistakes from my past, and I can only do that by letting it all go, accepting it, instead of fighting it.

Luckily not everything is gone. I have somewhere to live, I have a few good friends who haven’t yet run away screaming. I owe it to them as much as myself to finally become the person I am meant to be, rather than just the damaged product of my past. I think I am finally learning to live.

Self-Image

I don’t believe I’ve ever had a very good self-image, whether it be down to how I look, or how I perceive myself otherwise as a person. There have been many people in my life who haven’t helped that and have, indeed, exacerbated the situation.

It all started when I was quite young. As a child, along with my fellow siblings, I was always put down by my elders, told constantly how I wasn’t good enough at something. Each of us as fellow siblings were encouraged to further the damage with nasty words to the others. So, even if I knew otherwise, the belief that I was “stupid”, “worthless” or crap at a particular subject was ingrained into me. My low self-confidence as a result of this had a knock on effect on how people perceived me at school. It meant that I was bullied and my physical image was attacked, too. I was now not only “stupid”, “worthless”, “crap at everything”, I was also “ugly”, the person no one wanted to be friends with in case they caught something.

As a result of all of this, I have never been content with my self-image, whether it be how I interact with people or how I look. I’ve spent years being uncomfortable if people tell me I’m attractive or good at something. Even the smallest compliment will have me fidgeting and trying to find a way to negate or explain why it may seem I’m that way. All those positives turned into negatives, because for so many years I was always told otherwise.

So, what can I do to change this? Should I change this? Shouldn’t it be right that I believe that I’m worth something?

I’ll start with body-image. As a woman it can be hard to fit into society if you’re not perceived as being magazine-beautiful, or as trying to achieve that absolute perfection. The media tell us that the only way we can ever be acceptable to others is to be this clone image of whatever their latest trend is. Well, this is something that I haven’t fit into for years. Yet still, somehow, on a subconscious level, I’d make those little efforts, a little bit of make-up here and there, body-hair maintenance, etc. Even when wearing the drabbest clothing, I’d still be making over-the-top efforts to look a little bit more acceptable. It didn’t make me feel any better at all and certainly didn’t help me fit in any better.

So, I’ve stopped. I no longer bother with shaving, as I find it a ridiculous waste of time trying to achieve a fake image of so-called perfection that I’ll never reach anyway. I no longer wear make-up, even when the odd spot decides to surface and mar my otherwise less-than-media-perfect features. I don’t colour my hair, as I know that disguising the greys isn’t going to make them any less real. I am becoming a natural being, a woman in the form she is meant to be in. Yet am I happy?

I must admit, I am still uncomfortable with going out in skirts and dresses, trying to wear something nice and comfortable whilst not having made any of the “required” beauty efforts. I have done this in the past and not received any negative comments, yet I know that people still look. But, at the same time, I feel more comfortable with myself and less stressed for not having to go that extra mile, when I know, on the whole, it won’t change my own perceived self-image much, anyway.

So, what is needed to be comfortable with my own self-image? Well, one thing I do know is that it has nothing to do with the physical side of things.

Let’s go back to the bullying for a second. Even when I was trying to make an effort, trying to make myself prettier through using various lotions, potions, powders and clothing, I was still called names, made fun at. I thought I was trying to fit in, but all I was doing was trying to be someone I wasn’t. Even then, it took me far too long to realise that, what I really needed to do, was to just be myself. Now that wasn’t that easy to do when I was always trying to hang with the wrong crowds, if I ever did to socialise after having become a recluse for the most part. Yet, as soon as I had the right people around me, suddenly it didn’t matter how I looked, just who I was. I started to relax and my true colours started to show.

So, now onto self-esteem, the other side of self-image. One thing I have learnt is that it takes confidence to be the person you are rather than the person you think you should be. When you’ve spent any portion of your life being put down, trying to pretend that you’re someone else isn’t going to make people who have made a victim of you like you any more. If anything, it just gives them another excuse to laugh at you. What’s needed is to build upon your own self-worth and realise for yourself that you’re not the person all those nasty people have said you are, that you are capable of more than they say. Of course, it does help when you have good people around you who will encourage you and help you understand your true potential.

I’ve been lucky in that, nowadays, there’s mostly positive people in my life. It means that I’m gaining more and more confidence in being the person I really am rather than hiding various aspects because of what people may think. Because of this, it means I gain more respect and encouragement and means that I can also give some of that positivity back. It also means, when faced with negativity, I’m able to shrug it off a lot easier. This isn't to say that it's wrong to wear or do something that will make us feel better. Not at all. Yet, through that, we should still remember that self-image is all about how we perceive ourselves, inside and out, and we shouldn’t ever be afraid to show and be who we truly are.

Honesty

One thing I find that’s important in my journey is to be honest about things. This is not just about being honest to others about what’s going on, but, more importantly, being honest with myself. Being honest with yourself has to be the hardest thing.

We all have faults. Some days it feels like I am unable to escape from mine, no matter how hard I try. At times I feel like I fail at everything. Yet, if I were truly honest with myself at those times, I could tell myself the reason that these things were happening, what was really going on. The things we would otherwise want to avoid or not talk about.

Facing up to your own faults is never an easy thing. Even if we do believe that everything we touch turns sour and that we’ll never amount to anything, we still never admit to where our faults truly lie. The criticising eye we use to judge ourselves is just as judgemental of others, as if it will somehow make us feel better if we can see the faults in others rather than accepting and adapting to our own.

The truth is, I’m not bad at everything. I do many good things. I am bad at managing my own emotions, however, and letting them take me to places I shouldn’t. I admit that I am good at various things musically, but I know that I lack the patience to stick through the hard work and studying that it would require for me to ever be truly exceptional at it. I have been judgemental of others, even when I have refused to admit that I was being so, because the truth was that their faults reminded me of my own.

This blog, for me, has always been about honesty, about writing about the things I would otherwise avoid, or venting any crazy idea that comes into my mind that I’d otherwise shut away. There are many things that go through my mind and happen in my daily life that I don’t like to admit to. Even with being honest that depression does lead me to places I’d otherwise perhaps try to avoid, I still don’t want to be honest about everything that’s been going on. But, honestly, perhaps one day I will try.

Awkward Weirdness

I’m not the best communicator. I have a habit of making a tit of myself even in the most mundane of situations. It tends to depend on my frame of mind at the time as to whether I’ll come out with a sensible line or one that’s entirely inappropriate. Of course, when you’re just the right side of potentially life-threatening thinking, then being able to say anything that’s both positive and sane is incredibly difficult!

Unfortunately, this has led to me being an outcast at times. There’s very little I can do about it. Rejection is a very painful thing, but, having just turned thirty three, I’ve gotten used to it now. Sometimes, though, it hurts more than others.

What do you do if you sort of like someone, but you haven’t a clue about how to communicate with them and every time you do try, you just make more of an awkward mess of things? Now I’m not talking about potential love interests or anything like that, but people you may like to be friends with, yet find it difficult to be so because the only thing you’re able to do is flood them with weird nonsense. Yeah, this happens too often in my life. Because of this, I’m surprised that I have any friends at all!

The people I have the most difficulty with is those that are also awkward and weird, but in different ways to me. It means that there’s a clash somewhere in the middle. Me being me, the chaotic communicator who has to over-explain everything, goes in there and makes it worse. It means that behaving relaxedly around these types of people is almost impossible. Now this is fine when you don’t really have enough in common with them to really be interested in being friends with them, but when it’s the other way around, it’s as sad as it is frustrating.

There’s not much that I can do about my weirdness. Life experiences have made me the person that I am and at my age I’m unlikely to make any huge sways in changing this. That’s if I even wanted to make such drastic changes to my persona. Yet, luckily, there are people out there who not only can put up with my special type of weirdness, but are drawn to it and love it. I’m glad that they are there, as they make this lonely life more bearable.

The Light Shines Through

It's hard trying to hold on to that beautiful warmth I felt whilst I was away with so many amazing and colourful people. With their help I found and saw my true self for the first time and was able to relax and feel free for the first time in a long time. But being back at home the old reminders of the dark self are there...

I've changed, I know I've changed. As the darkness tries to work its way back in, I know I feel different this time, it feels different. The darkness is trying its best to take over everything, its in my arms, my legs, my stomach, but one thing it can't do is snuff out the bright light that's in my chest, my heart.

I know its not going to be easy. I know it'll be a while yet before I am free, and even then a spark will remain in the background in the form of doubts that everyone has. But now I have the tools to gently fight it, in the form of glistening hope, beautiful words and purifying light, gifts from great people, great friends. I know with these that I can learn to love and accept myself at last.

Spinning & Turning

I've been avoiding writing for a while... Even though I set up this blog to write down my honest thoughts and experiences, sometimes I don't want to. Sometimes I want to hide from myself and not know what's going on in my life. But there comes a time when you have to face up to it, or it'll control you more and hold you down.

Been home 4 days now. After having so many great times, it feels... Empty... Empty to be home. It's like, 'what am I going to do with myself now?' I've played my instruments a crazy amount, which makes me feel somewhat better. But I'm listless, restless, so much emptier than I was... There's always an adjustment phase after returning, always a moment where you have to stop beating yourself up for all the stupid things you've done and said recently and... Just smile at the good times.

See, that's the problem with me - once I start coming down again, all those negative little beasties like to come up and smack me in the face. They try to tell me that someone must be thinking this, because I said or did that, or that someone else will never talk to me again because of another action... It spins around and around and around...

And, meanwhile, in Saneville, that's literally just across the water from the hypnotic Hyperville and directly above Miseryville... There's a part of me watching everything that's going on, trying to rationalise it all, saying that it'll pass, you just have to ride the waves, etc., quite relieved that the gates of Hyperville are quite firmly shut at the moment so at least we won't be getting ourselves into a worse pickle whilst we carry ourselves over this wave... But sometimes even the rational voices in Saneville that try to be positive and bring me around can't stop the screaming that's going on in my head...

I've always hated being intelligent, have always hated being able to rationalise things, know what's going on. Yes, I don't always know what's going on or what I'm doing at the time, which essentially makes it far harder for me, the knowing afterwards what I did and why I did and... I always know afterwards. Always. Always can see everything (which is when the finger pointer comes up as I'm looking at things, and starts saying that someone's looking at me in a specific way because of that stupid thing I did. Yeah). In some ways, at least it can make it easier to bring myself around, to try and control the phases and not let myself get so wound up. Sometimes it works. And when it doesn't... This little brain full of all those rational thoughts knowing what and why I did something, after the fact, after I couldn't control it... It's thinking, 'shit, how the hell are we going to get ourselves out of this one, this time??!' Whilst all the while Miss Negative is prodding and poking and laughing and telling me how stupid I am for doing this that or the other...

It's like one big, boiling soup. A rather unappetising soup at times. And Miss Intelligent and Miss Rational have to work together to find some way out of the boiling, steaming mass. It is actually these two that fear the most, try their best to get us safe out of awkward situations because they fear that they'll be forgotten amongst all the chaos, and if they're ever forgotten all will be lost... But they also know that we could be so much more if we could just keep those little beasties in check a little longer...

Strangely enough, it's actually Hyperville that's the hardest to return from. Once I get excitable, once I get going... Sometimes I don't want to come down, sometimes I don't want to come back. Sometimes I can do so much whilst in that excitable state that I'm left feeling broken once I'm pulled away from it. And also, I don't care - I care far less about what people think of me and just care about being me, being around and interacting with the people I like, doing all I can and having a good time. Nothing else matters. Nothing.

Now, in Miseryville... Everything matters. Everything matters too much. It's lonely. All I want is someone to care, someone to give me a hug, give me a smile, give me a cup of love tea. But the little beasties are saying that they'll never come back, because of all those things I did, because I dared to allow people to see sides of me that I normally hide, because I dared to let go and be myself.

I know there are so many out there that have things harder, have had things harder. I feel guilty at times that I let the beasties run away with me and tell me of my own devastation. I know that my suffering is mostly because of how much I suffered in the past, because it is impossible to change what happened, because I can't be anyone else than a product of that at times, in my reactions, in who I am. I know so well that I'd be a different person without all that, perhaps some of it would be positive, but I don't believe all of it would. But my suffering is shadows of the past that still walk alongside me, whilst others are still genuinely suffering greatly.

But I can't be anyone else but me. I've tried, before, and what happened? I felt worse. I felt fake. So I gave myself my own identity, my own unique identity, because none of us are alike. I wish I could say that if people don't like it then it doesn't matter, but it hurts every single time. And that pain, I feel now, whether it's needed or not. But it's more a fear... It's a fear because of what I've seen before, because of what's happened before, because of what I expect to happen again.

And this thing that I fear most of all? Rejection and being alone.

Journeys

I've been loathe to update this for a while, partly because of all the things that have happened this year, which all seemed to culminate in the last few days. Because I went on a journey.

The thing about this journey, though, was even though it was predominantely a physical journey, it was also an emotional, self-searching and spiritual one. I had doubts along the way, at just about every single point I kept thinking I should turn back, that I couldn't or shouldn't go through with it. But I did, and despite my fears that of all the things that could have gone wrong, it turned into more than I could have hoped for and gave me some closure on some important aspects of my life.

This journey started on Tuesday evening, going to Brussels to sleep overnight before getting the Eurostar to London bright and early the next morning. I did something I'd never done before - I stayed in a hostel. Now I mostly did it for convenience, as it's so much cheaper than a hotel, sharing a room with people. Of course, I had doubts, safety, security, etc. (especially walking to this place, in the dark, in what looked like it could be a dodgy district!), but... I made it to the place safely, and I met some really fascinating people! There was a German lady who was living in Leuven, and a girl from the US, from Miami, who was travelling Europe to see friends, who kept apologising for everything (I'd fallen down the stairs Tues morning, missed the last step and had a few bruises. She apologised for that as well!). It was very weird getting up at 5:30am the next morning to go off to the station, the walk seeming very surreal. Then the train itself... Leaving behind the new life I'd made for myself to go and visit an old one...

Once were were out the otherside of the tunnel, I looked at the landscape around me, the rolling English hills with a motorway nestled amongst them, the typicalness and beauty that I had missed so much. It was... Strange. Seeing it now, as I was on this journey. Remembering everything I had left behind and everything I had left behind on leaving Belgium as well. The tears were trying to come as I was reaching London, me trying to hold them back. But I did, and managed to smile and sing good morning through customs and then to the lady at the ticket desk, who helped me enormously by giving me an itinery as well as the best tickets possible considering where I needed to be and by what time. And I kept that up all the way, despite the fact that I was so desperate to break, to allow myself to feel what was going on. I listened to all the conversations, familiarity in the language, delighting in the accents... And I just kept moving, trying not to think about what I was actually doing, through train to next train...

And, somehow, I got there. So many memories... The station at the other end, remembering the last time I was there alone, the person I was going to mourn being the one I had been going to meet... Such drama then! Remembering it fondly, knowing it was a part of them I could hold on to. But no one was there for me, then. Just a bus journey alone, to a town I hadn't seen in many years, then walking nervously to a church in the middle of the road (between seperate lanes of traffic) that I'd mostly previously seen as a rather large roundabout thing... I go inside, hoping that I'm at the right location, to see/hear I'd just got there on time, just as the vicar was still giving his welcome speach, and the church was full... So many people, most of whom I didn't know, all there to celebrate the life of one person. And the memories, memories shared, shared memories of tales retold, some of which I'd forgotten, and those new tales I hadn't heard before... It made me not only understand them better, but also others that I'd known close to them, like... The reflections, ripples in the pool... And I saw myself, suddenly, in a new light, who I am, who I was, how I'd seen them... I allowed myself not just to see the sadness of the loss, but also the joy and happiness that had been given to so many people, including myself. As well, at the reception afterwards... Talking to people I'd long left behind, the space between us enabling me to see them in a new light. It was something I'd needed for a long time, and allowed me to gain some peace and put to rest some old and once-painful memories. Including starting to put to rest the more recent ones...

A couple of hours of finally sharing everything I'd been feeling, then fond farewells, how it should have been all those years ago, but suddenly now, at this time of sadness... I knew as I left, back to the train station, that I was essentially closing a chapter in my life that I'd inadvertently left open, perhaps hoping I could go back as if nothing had happened and just continue from where I left off, as if the bad things hadn't been there... How much I'd missed people... But... I'd changed, they'd changed. With new lives, new loves, so many things had changed and I saw it all. But, there was a glimmer of the old that made me smile and left me with as much warmth as sadness, with as much hope as sorrow, but with as many questions as answers. Yet it wasn't just an ending - I knew it was also a new beginning. I would be seeing some of them again, just not as it was before.

The train journey back to London, thinking about everything, finally allowing my tiredness in. I don't know how I managed it, thought I had to just give up and stop... But I got back, got some food, and rather drunkenly walked to a hostel, going straight up to the room and staying there once I was booked in. I was just going to go to sleep after eating, but I stayed up, read a bit, then chatted to some other people there. A French girl that spoke English so well that I thought she was American! An English girl with a German boyfriend who'd been reluctant to learn the language as she didn't have much time, but my story inspired her to try. A Thai girl who'd spent a year in the UK learning English and was very understandable.

I got up early again, with a train back to Brussels at 06:50 - the first one. I hadn't slept much, was so tired, but I still smiled and sung good morning as I went through customs, and chatted to one of the people there who I'd seen the morning before. Just brightening someone's day and thereby brightening mine, a little.

The journey back... Leaving the world I'd once known for one I know now... It was weird as I got into Brussels, watching the buildings... A world that was still foreign to me yet so familiar at the same time, me thinking how ugly the buildings are... I realised at that point that I didn't belong in my old world any more, but neither did I belong to this new world that had started to become familiar to me. I was in between, someone of all worlds...

Then, after leaving the Eurostar and once on the train home, having an argument with a train conductor in Dutch about the details of my ticket (apparently Eurostar tickets don't automatically include "any Belgian station" anymore unless it states that), I knew I was back in the new world, the different sights, the different sounds... And then, off the train, onto a bus, a short walk and I was home...

Home. I dropped everything, and finally let out all the tears that had been waiting. I don't know how I'd held it that long, as the occasional tear had broken through. I had thought so much all the way back and now...

Through all of this, through all I've seen, through all the people. I inspired people, I comforted people, I brightened the day of people... I realised that I'd gained something through giving so much, as well. As well as realising something very important, something that I'd forgotten and at once mentioned to someone else who was grieving pretty much as soon as I got in:

You can't mourn the dead by dying yourself, but only by living and being alive.

Despite how tired I was I knew I had to keep up, keep on, keep on moving. And even now, a day later, a day after returning, I know it's likely that I'll come down again, have to deal with all the emotions all over again, but... I try to take the positives out of it all, the inspiration. I could be so much! I know. Life is changing, moving forward, and I have to keep up. I don't want to be lost again. I went to my classes yesterday, despite how exhausted I was. Have taken it a bit easier today, but have still gotten on with things, cooked something, made myself feel better. Because I know that if I stop...

This year has been one of mourning, not just for lost life, but also those that are no longer a part of my life through other means. I wrote the post on 2 January, Today I Cried, and I didn't realise then how significant it would become. But despite the loss, the emptiness that it can cause, I also still have them with me and think about them often. Because they were and are still a part of my life, not just in photos and objects, but deep inside. And they will remain with me, always. They are no longer physically around me, but I can still be inspired by them, the deep imprints they have left on my soul. And it is their memories, all those fond moments, as much as the new friends and new memories, that will keep me moving forward.

Life is a Box of Chocolates...

Forrest Gump. A lovely film full of so much simple sentiment. A film full of simple ideas, where, indeed, the simple ideas are the most true.

We all want the best out of life: the best friends, the best job, the best hobbies, the best partner, the best children, the best pets... It is so easy to be dissatisfied with everything that comes along, so hard to just be happy with our deal in life, that things often turn out that they’re not the best for us. Yet, quite often, there is someone else out there, quite jealous of those things we have, the things that we are just so unable to be satisfied with.

I wake up in the morning, I roll the dice – a 5. I take 5 little hops long the floor and slip on a snake that sends me hurtling downstairs. Just as I recover and managed to find a ladder to pull myself up again, my next roll sends me running into another snake, which this time takes me down further, meaning I have to start all over again. Snakes and Ladders – a game that is almost impossible to win. But, why do we actually want to win? Shouldn’t we be thinking more about playing along and seeing where it takes us?

I was so pissed off with being sent down on that snake this morning that I missed my friend’s lovely smile, which could have warmed me up so well and helped me climb back up sooner without needing extra dice throws. I felt so much like I was on my way to winning after I’d climbed up that ladder that I wasn’t looking where I was going so made a mistake that sent me spinning down the next snake.

We so much want to be in control of our own dice throws that we don’t realise that we can live without them! Sometimes it does feel like someone else is throwing the dice for us, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t be in control of the outcome. It’s all about acceptance – a bad day is a bad day, but it’s not the end of the world, and if you’re still here, alive after it, then you can carry on, pick yourself up again, plonk the dice down on the number you want and say, “I’m going there!”

There is a lovely song by Bruce Dickinson, Navigate the Seas of the Sun, with absolutely brilliant lyrics, which you can view here. Such powerful lyrics, which on the one hand could be about finding a new world, space, but, if you look into them deeper, could so easily be as much about finding yourself. “If God is throwing dice, and Einstein doesn’t mind the chance…”, there are just so many brilliant phrases in there.

So, whether it’s the randomness of an unknown box of chocolates without any leaflet guide to tell you what they are (or Revels, perhaps, but you know at least one will be a peanut!), or random dice throws whilst trying to get on up the ladders of life; yes, we can’t always be in control of everything that comes our way, so why try to be too much? Oh yes, taking responsibility for things when necessary, of course, but apart from that? Relax, let it flow. What will be will be (que sera sera – I’m not going to go into another song, I’m not!). And watch. The bad deals might seem harsh, but they nearly always have something pleasant around there, somewhere, an opportunity, a place to go. The good deals seem so thrilling, but keep yourself alert so you don’t miss out on the next thrilling ride. :)

Important Questions, Impossible Answers

My life quite often feels like I'm balancing on a knife edge - one slip in the wrong direction and it hurts like hell.

I have gotten better with doing the right thing over the years. To be honest, I still don't really know what it is. But I am better at keeping myself under control (it might not seem so at times, but... Considering things I used to do, yes - I am better!). Sometimes I've no idea how. Sometimes I don't even know how I make it from one point to the other! I've been trying to set myself up as a "realist" of late, trying to see the reality. But, of course, it's always my version of reality, just like everyone has their own built-in version themselves.

Which makes me wonder - what the hell is reality in the first place?

On the one hand it could be what we feel, the physical things that we can touch and hold on to. Those, for me, tend to be the most important things, especially with my over-active imagination. You can fly anywhere in your dreams, in your fantasies, but if it's physically there, if it's physically happening, then that's that - that's the constant, the what is, the unchangable.

But, on the other hand, I often let my imagination carry me away. This is partly because it helps me to deal with the things that I believe are lacking in my life. It gives me hope, gives me life, but at the same time it can distort my perceptions.

But, yes, generally I believe I know what's real. It's just that sometimes I don't want to believe it.

Then there is the part of me that's always balancing up both sides of an argument. The truth is, when people are discussing something, usually both parties are right. Quite often I have noticed that both parties are right in some way, or rather at least to themselves. You see this is where belief comes in. Everyone believes in something to one extent or another and everyone will have something that they believe more than anything else. That belief is usually so strong that it is, in fact, their reality. This is the first part, I believe, in understanding someone - recognising their beliefs. Even if you don't personally agree with what someone has to say, you can still understand where they're coming from, why they say it like that.

Well, I at least try to live that way, to think that way. It's much easier from the position of sitting behind my computer - it not only gives you more time to think about things, your answers, why people react in that way; it also gives you space. Being able to distance yourself somewhat from what is going on on the other side of the screen can be very useful. Yet sometimes we do need to be physically confronted with it, that information and those emotions, as it makes and keeps us human.

Now I'm not saying that sitting behind a computer all day, just chatting to what, for all intents and purposes, might well be a virtual world is a bad thing - sometimes it's good to be able to have a slouch day yet still be able to talk to people (if you want to - sometimes even shutting yourself off completely is OK, as long as it's not too much and for too long). It's just that the physical interactions with people are a big part of what keeps us sane. It doesn't matter if you believe a particular person can drive you crazy at times, you are still better off for having had that interaction. OK, so you've said something stupid, or generally say stupid things from time to time. You move on, you learn from it. Bad interactions happen, yes, and sometimes they hurt, but they can be learned from. I've run away from things, from situations, from people so many times, yet I know that that is not the answer. All it's going to do is put you into that position where you lock yourself away permanently, terrified of interacting with anyone on a real level in case it happens again, without realising that social interactions themselves can be cathartic, can be exactly what you need to get over that bad experience.

I've done stupid things in my time, said stupid things. Sometimes it's hard to stay focused, stay in control, when the whole world around me feels like it's crumbling and that I'm losing my grip on things - that's when I try to hold onto things the tighest, gripping so hard it hurts. I can be so terrible, treat people so badly, just because I'm desperate to feel something at that moment in time. I drive people away, because they may hurt me. I pull people closer, kicking and screaming, because I want to force them into my idea of reality. I'm sailing on a stormy ocean, with leashes attached to objects and people alike, me holding onto their ropes tightly, trying to control them as I like, like a puppet master, because I need something but don't know what it is. All the leads snap, everything drifts away from me whilst I'm sucked backwards into a whirlpool, spiraling down into the deep, dark depths. Leaving me alone. But... But then. Then, so suddenly as if a hypnotist has snapped their fingers, I open my eyes to see that the waters are now still, everything is calm once again, as if an ethereal wind has come along and blown it all away. For a moment I believe that I'm still alone, but then I notice that some people are still there, floating on their own rafts at a distance from me, staying because they have chosen to.

They say that there is a calm before the storm. For me, it always comes afterwards, but it has to get ridiculously stormy first, though. But the peace in between the perfect calm and the dark is terrifying, as that's usually when I start to forgive people. I never forgive - I generally prefer to accept things as having happened, as I can't change them, but I don't forgive - if someone did something deliberately, then their intentions at the time of the incident aren't suddenly changed because it's the day after. So, for me, forgiveness is very dangerous, as it is giving up. But it is only ever at that time when I feel most abandoned, most alone. And luckily, usually, it doesn't last for long - as soon as I start to realise again that I'm not actually alone, it passes (and that point, for me, is usually when social networks are most important for me).

I could read 100 different things to find out why things are the way they are, but not one would give me a conclusive or precise answer.

The trouble is, this is still all completely my version of reality, my experiences, things as I see them. We are all individuals, everyone seeing things completely differently. Yes, sometimes there is a crossover, where we recognise similar beliefs and traits, but there is still no one out there that is completely the same as you. Partly for this reason I find it absolutely fascinating to hear how someone else views the world, as I nearly always learn something new, not just about the person but also in general. There are so many possibilities, some of which I hadn't even ever thought about, and all because we are so individual!

But all this doesn't mean I understand myself any better. I had thought I was starting to get there, but I don't believe I can ever understand myself completely. Perhaps, one day. But perhaps simple acceptance is still far better.