Green is known for it's calming effects, it's the color to surround youself with if you want to meditate. And it most definitely works for me.
Things are changing soooooo slowly, with smaller than mouse's steps I am in the end moving on. I think. Oh and I think a lot! I'd say about 70 % of my waking time I think and try to figure out the whys, hows, wheres ... and with the rest of the time I actually do something.
I feel disappointed of myself for all the things I wanted to do with my life by now. It felt like I have all this time and although I always knew I'll never be able to fullfill all my wishes and ideas, there were things I thought I will do. But they're still waiting for me. They wait for my decision only. Everything else's supposed to be only excuses.
Yet, I find deciding even harder lately.
Besides being at the begining of my 'adult' life, of creating my own life, in the times of so called crisis, finishing school ... slowly ... besides all this normal things that accompany every important step in life, I have trouble sorting my priorities out. Another new feeling that appeared just recently is that I'm ready to move out. Leave for good, without weekends at home. And not only am I ready for it, I feel like this should be my next step, this is what I need to help myself move on in a good way, without regrets. Regrets like - is my family ready for this?
It took me 4 years to accept the idea of dad's alcoholism and start living with it. I still remember the exact day before this couple of years when I realized that it went to far. Other things followed (and I realized later that some preceded as well) that brought me down to the bottom of that era. In next months I built a small wall around myself, keeping all of my real self in there, consuming and diggesting itself all over again. Instead of getting better, I created non-identifiable fear. At that point I started being afraid of everything that might go wrong. I was afraid of driving. I was afraid of being driven. I was afraid my dad could have a heart attack. I was afraid my grandma could have a stroke. I was afraid what could happen to any of us if ...
I was afraid of everything, I saw potential danger in everything. You can imagine I became a very nervous person. I was afraid of what consequences that might have on my body. I pushed the button 'PAUSE'. Time went on although I felt as if frozen in it and after a while, after quite some time, I got to see that my life moved on somehow, without me. Things turned out for better, at school, at home, I got a job, I fell in love. Fears remained but they were quieter. The wall around me softened enough for me to feel the sun beams getting through.
After that, life happened again. The way it's supposed to be - it went a bit up then a bit down, and up, and down ... it's own way. Dad's accident happened. I realized nothing really changed at all.
Four years of life, new experiences, aquaintances, friends, family members, getting ill and getting better, yet here I was, with and alcoholic dad, a family who blamed him for whatever he did and myself who hadn't done anything about it.
I sometimes feel like things aren't moving at all for last couple of months. But when I thing of these four years I know I've done a lot. I don't want to call those years to be wasted, as they weren't, they were just a very slow progress, some kind of movement, just like a very slowly moving river that on surface looks like a swamp.
I'd say there's still a wall around me, although it might not be so thick anymore. I'm still afraid of many things, I guess I'm in some constant panic about what might happen. During these four years a fear of height appeared from nowhere and I can't seem to get rid of it though loving rock climbing! No matter what, all of this, and more, lead me only one way - to getting back to myself.
As slowly as it's going, I'm sure of my progress. And I'm sure of dad's progress. But I'm not sure for the rest of my family. Their four years have been lasting for much longer time and I'm not sure how close to its ending are they ...
Things are changing soooooo slowly, with smaller than mouse's steps I am in the end moving on. I think. Oh and I think a lot! I'd say about 70 % of my waking time I think and try to figure out the whys, hows, wheres ... and with the rest of the time I actually do something.
I feel disappointed of myself for all the things I wanted to do with my life by now. It felt like I have all this time and although I always knew I'll never be able to fullfill all my wishes and ideas, there were things I thought I will do. But they're still waiting for me. They wait for my decision only. Everything else's supposed to be only excuses.
Yet, I find deciding even harder lately.
Besides being at the begining of my 'adult' life, of creating my own life, in the times of so called crisis, finishing school ... slowly ... besides all this normal things that accompany every important step in life, I have trouble sorting my priorities out. Another new feeling that appeared just recently is that I'm ready to move out. Leave for good, without weekends at home. And not only am I ready for it, I feel like this should be my next step, this is what I need to help myself move on in a good way, without regrets. Regrets like - is my family ready for this?
It took me 4 years to accept the idea of dad's alcoholism and start living with it. I still remember the exact day before this couple of years when I realized that it went to far. Other things followed (and I realized later that some preceded as well) that brought me down to the bottom of that era. In next months I built a small wall around myself, keeping all of my real self in there, consuming and diggesting itself all over again. Instead of getting better, I created non-identifiable fear. At that point I started being afraid of everything that might go wrong. I was afraid of driving. I was afraid of being driven. I was afraid my dad could have a heart attack. I was afraid my grandma could have a stroke. I was afraid what could happen to any of us if ...
I was afraid of everything, I saw potential danger in everything. You can imagine I became a very nervous person. I was afraid of what consequences that might have on my body. I pushed the button 'PAUSE'. Time went on although I felt as if frozen in it and after a while, after quite some time, I got to see that my life moved on somehow, without me. Things turned out for better, at school, at home, I got a job, I fell in love. Fears remained but they were quieter. The wall around me softened enough for me to feel the sun beams getting through.
After that, life happened again. The way it's supposed to be - it went a bit up then a bit down, and up, and down ... it's own way. Dad's accident happened. I realized nothing really changed at all.
Four years of life, new experiences, aquaintances, friends, family members, getting ill and getting better, yet here I was, with and alcoholic dad, a family who blamed him for whatever he did and myself who hadn't done anything about it.
I sometimes feel like things aren't moving at all for last couple of months. But when I thing of these four years I know I've done a lot. I don't want to call those years to be wasted, as they weren't, they were just a very slow progress, some kind of movement, just like a very slowly moving river that on surface looks like a swamp.
I'd say there's still a wall around me, although it might not be so thick anymore. I'm still afraid of many things, I guess I'm in some constant panic about what might happen. During these four years a fear of height appeared from nowhere and I can't seem to get rid of it though loving rock climbing! No matter what, all of this, and more, lead me only one way - to getting back to myself.
As slowly as it's going, I'm sure of my progress. And I'm sure of dad's progress. But I'm not sure for the rest of my family. Their four years have been lasting for much longer time and I'm not sure how close to its ending are they ...
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