Trying to Move On ...

It’s been more than a month since and I still don’t know what happened. It felt as simple as if I just woke up to life, to being present. The days behind me appeared in fog. It felt as if I was possessed by someone I didn’t know for all these months, since the moment I came back to my family. Yet I knew the person that possessed me, we’ve met before, we’ve been meeting regularly since I remember. So far she only stayed present for couple days most, you know, the down days. This time I didn’t even know she was there, and she stayed for months! She – I – nearly killed myself!!! It was too close …

What the hell happened?! How can I understand? Can I prevent it from happening again?

The good thing is, I feel the clearness of my mind. It’s like I stopped taking drugs and can see life clearly now. I feel I’m in control of my life again and it feels amazing!

But I’m trembling every morning, I’m still in a foreign country, I’m still fighting to get a job, to make new friends, to make peace with myself and family in the past. I’m unsure about myself and how to continue my life and I’m terrified of returning to that point. I try to accept that part of me and in truth I kind of like it; I always had, to have a day of crying your soul out, writing down my fears and worries, feeling like a helpless hurt animal. I kind of like those days – because when I woke up the morning after I felt so good and strong!

Until now I called those days simply bad days. All this time that I passed in fog, it’s more than just days, or weeks, or months. It’s a frightening era that in another time or space might be called depression.

A Little Romance ... part two

The second part of the story is more difficult to put in words. It's too fresh and to me still unknown in its core. A perfect love story turned terribly wrong.

Now that I’m looking back to what happened last summer and later on, it all seems to make sense, every day I find a new piece of puzzle that makes the picture clearer. However these nine months of my life seems to appear blurred, it feels as if I got stuck in mist, and all around me was blocked by thick fog.

The evening I returned home that summer, dad was drunk, stinking like those old, disgusting red faced men that freaked me out since my early childhood. I was so traumatized to realize that nothing changed at home; I was so depressed that I didn’t even contact my closest friends to tell them I’m back. I guess it’s also called culture shock upon the return home. For a week I was like numb, walking around with no reason of existence. I was glad to be back with my family, but I knew I won’t hold on for long like this.

My only light of hope was love that I planned to return to in France as soon as I’d do everything I promised to my friends and family. I got an apartment to be on my own, started working to save at least some money for possible months of unemployment, and hoped with all my heart that what the story we’ve had so far wasn’t just a summer crush. He came for a visit, the spark was still there and we started planning my return.

Since I was so sure of my feelings, I started packing everything and at the same time spend as much time as possible with friends and family, in fear of the time that might pass before I see them again. However, I didn’t have time to overthink this and other fears until I got back to France. To my prince, my savior. With unemployment, lack of friends in new environment, another culture shock hit me hard.

How, why, when did it happen, I don’t know. Soon we started having those no reason arguments, I’ve turned completely unsocial, I felt like I’m just not good enough – not for him, not to get a job, not to make new friends. Maybe it was the same numbness I felt in the summer that came back creeping over me. I still loved him like I never loved anyone before, but I had almost no positive emotions or thoughts about myself. There probably were good moments; I remember we sometimes laughed a lot, discussed passionately, drove in pleasant silence …

Yet I walked through days not as numb as I wanted to show, just deeply hurt. By everything and anything at the same time. Realized in one moment that I’m thinking about suicide more and more often, I’ve written my first will, I’ve juggled with the ideas of how to do it, how to get into an accident, where to get pills, tried if I have courage to cut myself to flash. I didn’t. Yet I tried again and hoped I’d had it this time.

I found no reason to live – and I’ve been trying to find one for months! Already before he broke up with me apparently for not having any feelings for me. I fought with him, I was sure I knew better, I tried to prove him how he shows that he does have feelings for me. I called him a looser, a coward, and many other things, he gave me all that back in French. However, since I had no job, and I was terrified to go back home, I was never so afraid of anything before, so he lent me a room and supported me so that I’d put myself back on my feet.

I had no control of my life – I felt I was driven around by unknown forces and that, if I had so far the choices to run away or stay, try harder or break up, I should have at least the right to choose life or the end of it. I thought about it for weeks, on the outside still searching for a job, hanging out more with people, trying desperately to find at least one reason to live, and I failed. I was ready to make my choice and told a little part of it to those who’d be concerned when finding my body.

The moment came and I started saying goodbye I guess, last small talks, writing letters, preparing the “tools”. Trying if I got enough guts. A bruise today, a little scar the next day, the bathtub was ready.

Then, almost as graceful as Jesus, I got up on the third day of my plan and I was awakened!

A Little Romance Never Hurt Anyone

It's more than a year ago now, it happened in January - you know, the begining of new year, when you're all depressed over what didn't happen last year and all overexcited over what should happen in this one. So, it's was an ordinary January, when I first got my eye on him. His cute little behind actually. Then he turned around and his face was even more attractive. Manly, determined, extremely busy and serious. Short, getting-bold-type of mature, but handsome and ... hum, something deep inside of him that made me daydream about a guy I knew nothing of.

Not bad for a beginning right?

It was a work day for him and a visit day for my friends and me. He never even looked at me directly, I had all my time to observe every inch of him. Nothing new - I was on a year-long volunteer project in France trying to get a new sense to my life, I was pretty much desperate for some french lovin'. Through following months, I have - with support of my volunteer friends - created a whole dreamy image of him. Yeah, we really didn't have much to do in that little town during our free days. There were some other guys too, surprisingly handsome and nice, considering the reputation of the region. Oh, we had some stories to create to pass our time!

There was big guys with tons of muscles ... smaller ones, the really nice type of guys ... and the bad boys that made us all loose our nerves and minds.

And then this guy from the begining of the story, that kind of came on and off in our stories, since my friend was working with him on occassions. We were getting more and more of little details about him, how he's at work, how he's during free time, the story was getting better and richer. The story of the Cute-Behind became so tempting, that seeing him again after several months, my soul, by then completely lost in space and not finding any sense, went flying!

Sure, it was just another little imaginary story in my mind, I've got through my whole childhood and teenage years with the helps of these imaginary versions of life! I'd never try to break the bubble by trying to get his attention! But the story unravelled on it's own, it so happened that we met on different occassions in a short period of time and kind of flirted ...

Until that magical moment on one more of my perfect birthday that he shared with me and my friends - when he held my hand and kissed me!
Did my world start spinning in that moment!

Some sweet and completely overwhelming weeks passed in this romantic idyll ... they were also my last weeks in France.

Leaving Really Does Fuck You Up

If anything than chocolate and travelling are my true addictions, symptoms are clear to everyone. To my dentist most for what it has to do with chocolate and to my dearest for the travelling. Damn, I can't stay long in one place without getting a serious case of abstinence. It gets me even as far as to think I'm mentally too unstable for the real world. Mood swings, asocial behaviour, the almost physical pain and the need to hurt myself or just finish it all. Beautiful village life, nature, silent nights with stary sky, no obligation but to eat, drink, and take care that your plants and animals do the same. Add to that hot summers, when you even kiss your hobbies goodbye, because it's just too hot to think, what else to move.

All of us, travellers, have this special need for discovering the unknown, the beauties behind the borders of states and those in our minds. We live in constant search for new awe ..... We can not get trapped in one place because the beauty of it stands on it's past, present and future that we can't get a look in when only passing by. We get so touched by the little things like listening to heart breaking sound of guitar of a homeless guy behind the corner, knowing his story, thinking about his plausible future, might just be the trigger that would crack us.

It doesn't mean we can simply ignore all those stories of past, all those moments to come, nor does it mean that we're able to always see the actual present (ki se odpira) before our eyes. Sometimes, when our minds stop a little on one little moment, we get to feel the full strenght of hapiness, sadness or devotion. Sometimes it's too much.

We're cowards, we want to see it all, we know there's no place like home, but we know there's something amazing just around the corner. We're afraid of missing the next awesome thing that might happen to us, and we're even more afraid to let this person right here, right next to us, to hurt us as much as we know they can. So we go, and we run. And when we stop, we get really confused, because looking from a standstill the view is completely different.

I love coming back to my start position, my home, but a standstill here also gets the closest to me. So I guess I always swear more when I'm back home, and I'm bitchy, and even have silent treatments that can take forever. Dear god, at home I even take the time to kill those innocent but hell of an annoying flies and other types of bugs.

So, at the age of 26, am I correct if I say that home gets the worst out of me and that that's completely normal? That if/when one day I find a place I would want to make my new home, travelling will go from lifestyle to hobby and my kids are gonna be whining about how I get the worst out of them?

Nah, I don't see any conection or sense in what I'm saying anymore! That could be just because of another mood swing that happened somewhere during the writing of this post. But hey - that's fine, because mood swings are completely normal for women, according to Cosmo! ;)

So I guess what I'm saying is, travelling's awesome but it fucks you up a little or just as much as any other drug that gets control over you.

Rehab or Nothing - They're Feeding Me Bullshit Again

Really, mom, really? Really, really?? Really!? Things changed?! Don't bullshit me with crap like that!! How can a woman so great, a woman so clever get stuck in an idea so weak?

Couple days that I'm back home again ... I say I'm on holidays. Everybody's keep asking me the same question: So, are you good now with travelling? You've done many things, now you stay home, right?

Fuck yeah! I'm on holidays here! I gave a promise to myself to not get stuck again and I keep my promises. Over my dead body will I stay here!

Rehab or nothing, that's the only idea I follow.

Leaving Makes You Learn How Much You Love

I've always had this tendency to run away and dissapear and I never really thought about where it comes from. I thought I'm just trying to escape to whichever unbearable situation. I thought it was just another flaw, a sign of weakness when I couldn't confront my life.
On the other hand, everytime I'm away far from everyone I care of, there's always new people that get so close to me, new friendships develop, that in the end I'm afraid of leaving them in order to return back home. Sometimes I even feel like only leaving makes me realize how attached I am to people around me and how I'll always miss someone no matter where I am. And this hurts. At the same time it feels beautiful to have all this amazing people around you even if they're physically on the other side of the world. Because of that I'll always be a fan of new tech and social networks that steal our privacy on one side but enable us to keep in touch with our loved ones that we can't spend 'real' time with whenever we want.

That much about fear of leaving. Then there's the whole other side of the story ...

I'm afraid of returning, I'm afraid of getting stuck there. I'm not the same girl anymore. I don't want to get sucked in that alcoholic cycle of hell again. It frightens me!!!!! I've been away for so many months, I created a new life of my own, different routine, different lunch menus, I've been on my own again, leaving my life. Sure, as my flatmates would kindly remind me, I never really left my family life back home and there were many crisis moments. But many of them was just because of this fear coming more and more to life. I want to go home, I want to see my friends and family again, spend the summer in my beautiful country! I just want it to be only holidays for me. I want to keep lliving my life then. Live on my own, get a job, go out with friends, sleep in my bed with my guy without having to introduce him to my whole family. All those ordinary things young women do. Yeah, I want a life of a young woman, not just another trapped alcoholic's daughter.

I'm going back home in couple of weeks. Keep your fingers crossed for me, whoever you are reading this, send me all the positive thoughts you can, I'll need them.