November's new moon

It's been enough of insecurities, it is time to just be. Yes, I am who I am, and if I didn't have this scar, I still may not be all I wish I was:

I may have been raised to smile and please, and no matter how hard I try, it may always stay with me.

I may have been raised to think I am wrong, and no matter how right I am, I may continue to doubt myself.

I may have been raised to be ashamed and hide who I am, and no matter how much I love that part of me, I may continue to feel uncomfortable when I show it.

I may have been raised to never show my anger and through so much work, I can show it now but I still feel bad when I do.

But it's time to rephrase this story, it's time to find the good in this scar, to explore other facets, to motivate me instead of stating how hard and tiring this whole thing is.

I had a rough childhood, it wasn't clearly rough, it was all about the hidden pieces: The words of discouragement, the pressure disguised as support, the lack of trust, the "no right way out", the lying, the manipulation, the disbelief. 

I don't blame any of them, which is a big step but I acknowledge what it was: unhealthy.

And now the rephrasing:

I had a rough childhood, but it gave me the strength to survive each day of my present. It made me wiser, more empathetic and it made me who I am. I may not love who I am all the time, but I have the choice each day, to keep pushing myself to acknowledge my reactions, recognize my emotions and decide how to behave after that. 

I will continue to fight for who I want to be but accept who I am right now: I get anxious, I get scared, I am shy, and a controlling person. I get lost in others' and it's hard for me to recognize my needs and state my boundaries. 

But that also means that I am a very respectful, empathetic being, that I am vulnerable and in contact with how I feel, that I am great at organizing things of any kind, I am clean and careful, and very relatable.

And that is just part of who I am! I am so much more than only these little pieces that seem so big. My rough upbringing made me a wonderful being who I would love deeply if I met as an outsider because I know how much I am capable of loving, I know how hard I try to make communication work for me and everyone around me, I know how much I try to be honest, open, vulnerable and respectful. 

If I could experience being someone else, I would hang out with me all the time: with a cup of tea, some nice music, some laughter, some cuddling. Some art, some silence, some sex, more cuddling. Some deep talks, some support, some comfort and so much love!

And so, after seeing this marvel I truly am, for this moon ritual I write my deepest (and maybe most embarrassing, but who cares!) wishes for the next six months:

- I fully live by my six core values: authenticity, freedom, open-mindedness, intimacy, growth and love. 

       This translate into a loving, fulfilling, satisfactory, supportive and content non-monogamous lifestyle filled with compersion, comfort, support and respect. A full and easy environmental-friendly lifestyle. A fearless, authentic and unapologetic attitude towards life mixed with my empathetic, respectful, loving ways. In-depth wisdom of my emotions, boundaries and needs, to recognize them right away, react to them authentically, communicate them respectfully, and support myself or be supported by others in the healthiest ways, I have also internalized the knowledge I needed to remind myself in the past about self-worth in relation to others.

- I have found balance in the time and energy to care for my projects, relationships and myself.

- I finished my zine projects on mental health, the craft, society and environmental issues and they are reaching a lot of other minds.

- I speak perfect German.

- I am earning 1.500 euros per month working 20 hours per week.

Now to plant them, even though they are gigantic, my energy is with them and my next six months will be all about working towards them.

              Thank you childhood, thank you Daniela, thank you moon, See you again in six months (and every month until then).

Digging - Merging

The darkness isn't the monster, I know some shadows and I've learned to love them. I have seen my raw self, illogical, overwhelmed and angry, those parts that we don't let out: rage.

I have let it exist with me, and though I am ashamed of it, I accept it. It is part of me and all the spectrum of emotions and feelings that living beings have.

I wish you'd let me feel it too, accept it as I do.

But that is not what is yet to come to light, the monster I am talking about now is one I can't recognize, it has lived in the core of my brain, hiding in the repeating songs that play in my head when my little Freud and Jung come to distract me from what is really important.

Even as I write this, they don't let me get in, so I am smashing them with questions to keep me on track: I am looking for the darkest monster, I am looking for the perpetrator of this all. 

How does she look like?

She looks a lot like me, but better. She has a perfect body, a more mysterious smile, a perfect nose, and velvety skin, her hair and skin change colours at her desire and her eyes glow with passion.

She is a writer and an artist, she is a poet of darkness, a great deceiver. She makes everyone she wants love her, and she is invisible to who she doesn't want. She is the bravest, not a pore of shame or shyness exists in her body. She does everything in such dark delicacy, pale skinny hands, limbs and core move in perfection to create the most drowning performance of a being.

What are her motivations?

She doesn't want me to find out the secret, she doesn't even want me to see, or talk to her, because she knows I could deconstruct her in a second and take away the power she holds on me, we have been there before. She remains hidden in her dark throne at the core of my soul, moving strings, giving birth to lesser demons to diverse me in this labyrinth I am.

But sweety what you didn't expect was for me to give up on it all, to let your children play in my shadows while I go straight for you. And I am here now, right outside your castle, ready to burst in and take you down, so be scared, even if you have never felt that before, attack with all your power, I created you, and you have made me stronger than ever before with all your children's games.

Why is she so strong? 

She isn't. It's only a facade, she is the great deceiver, you see. Making me believe her power is so much stronger than it is, but her neon green eyes have become familiar to me, I don't fear her anymore, nor her children or plans.

You can't hurt me anymore, I can change frequencies and disappear from your realms instantly, get back to this weird reality as you plot your next attack covered by your little friends Freud and Jung, and their stupid songs on repeat.

You didn't think I would become this strong, love.

What is she protecting?

Me. She is keeping my pain in her ribcage, hidden. She is protecting me from daring to fully be myself because it has come at a price before. She keeps me in fear so I stay in the safe zone.

But my dearest, I have grown. I am not that helpless child anymore, I can take care of myself now and you have to know that you are the one inflicting pain, I am striving for freedom and you are my cage. I understand the love that has pushed you into this repression, and it is not needed anymore. I am thankful for you, I want you to merge with me again so we can both find the balance that will bring us what we have been striving for.

Be with me again, there is space for you, I have lived with emptiness in my heart for too long, and I see now that it was yours all along. There was so much pain, so much anger, I tried to fill it up with others, with love, with sex, but now I see how there is no light without darkness, it is all blend if so. And what we want for life is all, the hype, the blend, the low, and I need you to give me the courage, while you need me to give you the logic.

Love, merge back with me, let's find true happiness together, as it should have always been.

Why do I feel I am her entirely? 

Because she is me, as much as I am her. She is the part that was separated and hidden because of the judgement and the pain that our carers and other humans inflicted on us. 

I used to believe she was the perfect version of myself, but now I see that she was all I ever wanted to be, because she was the missing half that I have been looking for, the fearless, daring, courageous part that was suppressed so early on. 

Please my dearest, take over me for a while, show me the wonders I have been missing. Rule us in full power until we find the balance, ruling side by side, no more cages, no hierarchies, merge into each other to be all we always needed us to be.

This will take time and it will be hard for me to let go of control,
I will learn to trust you as you show me how things will be just fine.

We are here now, both ready to hold ourselves in adversity 

and jump down the fall.

The monster I truly am.

How can two be this?
So much and so little, silly and serious, anger and compassion.

As if a tornado was orbiting over our heads, we are spinning in a sick dance of emotions, we are up and down, both naked trying to stay afloat in an ocean of dark, icky goo.
But here we are, moving our limbs desperately, breathing in huge chunks, eyes closed under, opened over, yet blindly searching for some quietude and finding, instead, each other's arms: comfort, yet we drown, and for a moment it feels right, almost healthy, to drown next to you.

But when my ears are covered, and I can hear only my mind, I want to survive, to live! I want to find the shore and experience what this cruel world has for me, I want to move my limbs desperately, on land.

I know the goo is me and you, I can't escape its darkness, its stickiness, but I can keep swimming trying to find soil, instead of settling for the drowning.

I want you to find land, I want you to experience true happiness, not what I can give you:
Fake, selfish love, hindering you from being your true, free, full self, convincing you this is what love feels like when all I am is an obstacle. A monster. I am destruction and deceive, and you fell for my charms, you are my type, but now, I want you to go away and experience what life really can be, how love really can feel.

Give up

Accepting feels just like giving up. Being open to change, letting go, stop controlling, loosing up, loosing:
Accept the loss.

I am writing this from a dark place, a gigantic, empty, dark cave that echoes my voice back and forth for years, the shape of old demons hide in the shadows, I feel them crawling up my back. I am in the centre of this cave, no outside walls to lean on, or protect my back. My skin is glowing violet, I know I am strong.
"You're the strongest witch in history, but you are not ready", said the lady in my dreams when I told her my name, the things is, she refused to say it, what she actually did was open her eyes in shock, repeat my last name and closed her books in a hurry saying she didn't know anything, but I could read her as easily as these words.

I am glowing dimly in violet, naked, holding myself between the shadows, letting go of everyone because nothing satisfies me, and I doubt. I accept that this is coming from me, I accept that the luring demons are in advantage since Tuesday, I accept to let go of everyone and everything, except myself.
I will never let go of myself, no matter how failed, how slow, how toxic I feel, even if I truly believe I am either a demon or cursed, I am all I have, certainly, until I die. I know my worst and my best like no one else and through this pain, this never-ending loss that is life, I won't let go of my own hand.

I give up, and it is painful, draining, exhausting. I will never get what I want, I will never be satisfied with anyone else's love, so I am letting go of all of you, and accept the pain that you have and will cause me for the short moments of contempt that we will share.
I will fight hard to not let my heart turn into stone between the scabs of the cuts we have all inflicted on it. I will continue to dimly cover my body in violet light, hold my naked body in this cold, emptiness, and stare into the darkness that contains my demons. I am strong in this vulnerability even if it just means to write sad words and share them on the internet like a morbid secret diary.

I am giving up on you all.

Process

The light grew dim outside, my cheeks were dry from the tears I hadn't cried, but your voice was on repeat for two years.

The ember on the fire was burning red and we were safe inside, behind the window, between your dark sheets, dressed and sat up. I looked outside, the city, I looked inside, the black forest that is my mind, and between, there you were, with your hopeful eyes, crying of happiness like you did that time after you came.
It all feels so far now, it all feels awkward and alien: your childish jokes, the way you move, the way you comfort me like a cute pet. It doesn't make sense anymore.

This little flame that kept us alive through the toughest of times is losing strength, and as much as I don't want it to die, I don't see another end.

Nothing is forever, but February you said, so February I wish.

It is a complicated recipe, freedom and compromise. I am drowning in this dive, even if I dreamt I learned how to breathe underwater fast enough, maybe I just have to be patient and keep diving into the depths.

I miss you, and I don't want to say it aloud. 

You didn't say anything about it, did you? 

This is another topic, love.

I was so scared about the blood, but it is yet to come, funny the relationship between things: The truth is out, so is my unborn child.

Good night.

26

Another year has passed and for the first time, even though it feels extremely weird, I am excited and truly believe that this day will be wonderful.
I am sick, but I don't mind.

Finally part of me is feeling like the person I always wanted and could be: I am free and open and loving, my values are met within myself and I can put them into the world into an infinite cycle of expansion. We are fountains of overflowing love, that have been clogged by the worldly issues, the lack of freedom, the judgement, and once we sort out our minds, the water can flow calmly onto ourselves and others.
That is how I feel today, I can be completely honest, I can show my love to everyone without fear of them leaving, I accept what I can get, and I express my needs, but I have found this place between my ribs where I feel accepted, worthy and loved.

It has been an intense journey, full of downs! But it is all worth it because I am where I am right now.
The work is not over, and don't get me wrong, there are a lot of things I need to deal with still, like understanding this new, clean love I feel which is entirely opposite to the toxic, possessive one I felt before, I have to keep on testing and holding up my boundaries, plus all the things that life throws at us, but that is all ok.
I feel strong, capable, worthy and loved, and I know whatever happens I have me, always, unconditionally.

We are all unique, infinite, wonderful universes within ourselves, and no one can ever give us what others can, but we can give others somethings no one else can give them.
We are all one of a kind, and we are worth exactly the same as anyone else.

Capitalism has brainwashed us to strive for being "more" constantly, and knowing that our worth is immovable, unchangeable, gives us the power to settle and strive for what we want for and from ourselves, instead of comparing it to others.

No one is like you, no one is like me, and the journey will continue.


This is not a poetic-ish text, this is just pure, cleat content. "Contentment is the base to happiness"- said a wonderful person some days ago, and I think it is completely true.

I will dive into the happiness poetic writing soon enough, but for now, I have a novel to write, a forest to walk, a lake to get into and candles on a cake to blow!

Happy birthday to me, the wonderful, unique and finally fully me.

i n f a t u a t e d

I used to do this to lose myself, now I do it to find me. It's an experiment to become stronger and wiser on this topic I want to be an expert on: myself.

                                                                           °

        The sun shone on your face like gold and I sighed, "you are beautiful"- I didn't dare to say it, but you did: "the sunlight really suits you", I blushed. When we exchanged positions and you asked me to close my eyes, I followed your request as a child, fully trusting, nothing could go wrong. 

         You waited for a second as my eyes were closed and hesitantly asked for permission to touch my face, I agreed, laughing, and so I felt your warm hand on my forehead, lower on my cheeks, surprising different spots around, my nose, my chin, always soft and gentle, until you stopped. I opened my eyes and this is where things went wrong. 

         I looked into your eyes after such strange intimacy and felt something, that typical something of me that keeps me turning and daydreaming, and if I am not careful it makes me spiral into believing there is no place I belong, no home where my heart can be. I am an addict, and it doesn't happen often, I tend to forget about it then and I live without it easily, but when it comes, it hits me like the autumn morning sun in Berlin, like today as I sit in front of this screen for the third day in a row trying to make a decision on how to live this love that I keep inside. 

        I just wish someday I can be brave and strong enough to fully show all the love I have without stopping myself in fear of them leaving, people leave when they feel scared, and we live in a world that what fears the most is love, because it wants to appear strong. What we are yet to find out is that the opposite of strength is not vulnerability; it is weakness, and that is much more related to avoidance than to crying.

        When you know you are responsible for your own feelings, and not for others, it is not too much to be loved like I love. When you know you can take what you want from what I give, and give what you want, it becomes easier, open, radically honest. When you understand that things aren't ever perfect and are open to accept any outcome, everything is ok in the end, and we would have experienced such deep, free love, that it would always be worthy. 

       Maybe resilience is the keyword, or emotional regulation, or self-love.

       My love is not your responsibility, I wish you knew that as I know it now. I wish I had known that before, we have been through so much, there is such a big field of needles we have to walk through. I am sorry for what I did to you, no matter how unintentionally it was, I am sorry and I want you to know that I understand things better now. You don't have to take responsibility for my emotions, you only have to take care of yourself, so you can decide to give me what you want, and if it doesn't work it's ok, whatever comes will be just fine, as long as you handle you and let me handle me.

        However, right now, I have a crush, I am infatuated, I am overpowered by this feeling. I am addicted to this feeling and I want it all right away! A decision must be made, do I dive in fully and risk losing that gentle touch, or do I play by society rules in a cold war of hidden love*?

I am addicted to love.

                                                                            °

*Love: There are too many things we call love, and I want to point out that to me this term goes from: seeing a parent and a child being happy across the street, to having spent 4 years getting to know someone, gone through super ups and super downs, broken up, being sad, hating them, being ok, and finally saying goodbye and feeling them always in a special place in our hearts.

           Love to me is anything that makes my heart feel warm.

Basura cerebral 12 (20)

Cómo dejar salir todo lo que está en mi cabeza? Puse una alarma, 12 minutos desde ahora, veamos qué sale?

Desenredar. 

Annabelle, obvio que su nombre tiene belleza en él. Cómo puede haber tanto dolor detrás de una sola persona? Obvio que es amiga de tus amigues, obvio que su cuerpo es perfecto y que se hizo mierda en su tiempo, obvio que sus problemas mentales son brígidos, pero no los cuenta tal como son para que no te pese, qué más obvio?

Yo estaba bien, yo estaba avanzando, sintiéndome mejor, de a poquito iban pasando los días y se me hacía más y más fácil seguir adelante, hasta que ya no. Hasta que volvió lo mental y me atormenta y me aprisiona y me dejar sin respirar.

Vuelve y me quita todo lo que quiero quedarme y me llena de todo lo que quiero dejar ir. Así funciona. Y hoy siento que aceptar y darse por vencide, es exactamente lo mismo.

Andando en bici todo el día pienso en la muerte constantemente, un auto saldrá por la esquina y PJJJ! Chao. Y pienso en que si me muriera ya no me importaría, o sea... no por mi. Me importa sólo por las personas que me quieren, y no son muchas, se vienen tres a mi mente de una, otra medianamente, una más que se le va a pasar pronto igual que toda nuestra existencia en este mundo, y dos que les va a doler, pero por razones del ego.

Nos abrimos y nos hacemos daño. Hoy entendí que tu miedo es tan grande como el mío: que yo encuentre a alguien monógame y te deje, que tú encuentres a alguien no monógame y me dejes. Y tus inseguridades son las mismas que las mías, Annabelle y Andrew. Hasta comparten la primera letra de sus nombres.  Y para los dos, esas personas están en el pasado... Pero para ti ella vuelve y se queda, para mi siempre fue una pasada, como todo en mi vida.

Mi perra vida que es una pasada: Me conoces, me idealizas, idolatras y me amas como si no hubiera mañana, se rompen los lentes rosados y me vuelvo odiosa, insoportable, "annoying", a waste of space I would say.

Y qué quieres que diga, me pregunto a mi misma. imposible no pensar que es mi culpa cuando se da el mismo patrón una y otra vez. Cómo lo detengo? 

Me quiero bajar del carrusel, nunca me gustaron los caballos, me marean, me asustan y me dan puro dolor. Y ustedes en sus caballos me miran mientras sufro y sufren en sus propios mundos, y está bien, pero por qué me hacen tener cierto compromiso con ustedes? Por qué no me puedo bajar no más? Por qué no se aguantan el dolor no más?

Desearía no estar aquí, ni allá. Desearía más poder disfrutar la vida, salir de la prisión. Pero por la reconchetumare que es difícil la weá... Tantos controles sociales, tanto moldeado.

Partió de a poquito, primero suprimí mis ganas de expresar lo que siento, después lo que siento en sí, después el invitarte a salir, después las ganas de salir contigo, después el preguntarte por sexo, después las ganas... Y ahora estoy aprisionada por mis miedos y por tus rechazos, y pienso: por qué cresta sigo aquí?!

Y entonces me abrazas, me hablas, me haces llorar pero del buen tipo, por fin eres honeste, te atreves, encuentras el valor... para hacerme mierda. Y te lo agradezco, porque es lo que te pedí desde el principio, pero cómo se supone que, después de todo lo que hemos vivido, pueda escucharte sin que todo duela demasiado? Cómo se supone que esté bien tras escuchar todo lo que está mal conmigo y lo mucho que deseas a otres, todo de una?

Morite queride, por qué te da tanto miedo que encuentre a alguien más cuando no estás segure de si me sigues amando? Quieres ser tú quien tiene la útlima palabra? Hay tanto de ti que simplemente no entiendo, como tu reacción al tema "A" después de decirme que no me amas, después de decirme que sí me amas mientras me abrazas fuerte?

Estoy confundida y cansada, y mañana vamos a hablar y va a doler y la verdad... quizás un final sería lo mejor, para mi y para vos.

Un peso se te quita de encima, libertad viene a ti, ya no tienes que andar con cuidado conmigo, ya no tienes que soportarme, ni lidiar conmigo, ya no hay más reglas, puedes salir y ser... No veo nada bueno que pierdas si es que terminamos, y eso es lo que está tan mal entre nosotros:

Qué cresta es lo que te mantiene en esta relación? Y qué es lo que te mantiene en esta constelación específica, porque cualquier relación puede darte el amor, la confianza y el tiempo que nosotros tenemos.... En especial si es con alguien perfecte, como tu "A", alguien que te deje ser libre y te ame incondicionalmente, no como yo, que estoy enferma y soy tóxica y hay que aguantarme.

Corazón, creo que lo que estoy tratando de decir es que me doy por vencida.

Daniela, ya no puedo seguir, me doy por vencida contigo.

Me doy por vencida conmigo misma.

Give up

Is this how letting go feels like?
Honestly, it is way too similar to giving up, but who says that is bad either, I mean... Why not give up on things we can't change? Isn't that acceptance anyway?

Today I was overwhelmed by emotions, self-love, failure, sadness, nostalgy, playful attraction, love again (though another kind), discomfort, fun, sadness bomb, fun again enthusiasm, and then back to sadness.
I'm here once more writing from sadness and hoping to give birth to this role model that I'm so much in need of. Show me how to have healthy relationships, how happiness feels like, or I will be, forever stuck in searching something I don't know what it is. Like searching for someone on the streets of a gigantic city, but I only know their name: Happiness.

The better I get, the worse it feels. The more I learn how to deal with life, let go, accept, or give up, however you want to call it, the more suicidal I get.
I don't want band-aids, though these have helped me a lot. I have done such progress, I wouldn't even have thought I could. I remember when I wasn't even able to imagine this, and here I am, yet in my imagination of this wonder, I was not stuck anymore, and overall, I don't feel so different: Stuck, just more regulated.

What is the difference between giving up and accepting?
What is the difference between loneliness and happiness?

I want to sleep now.

The house. (draft)

The creaking floorboards are killing me, I wake up at night needing to stand up, and so loud and explosive the wooden nightmare starts. I hear them walking, dropping things, they wake me up and I hear them moan and moan, as I lay here naked yet alone.
How did it come to this?

She comes home late and walks in and out of her room, over and over again, until the noises mix in my dreams and I open my eyes. Neck pain, shoulders tight, dry throat. I can't live with myself,

Now the pipes are clogged, and how wouldn't they if avoidance and clutter are all over. Trash cans full of plastic, warm and rotting. The fridge is making noises and the dishwasher throws up water because it gets stuck. This house has too many emotions from too many sick people, I am too many sick people, I feel too much. How am I supposed to be ready when I feel empty again?

This is all about wanting what I can't have, wanting that emotional unavailability, wanting not wanters to want me, so of course, how can I ever be fulfilled when I am an addict that can't recognize the substance of addiction because it is being poured into different mixtures and glasses and bars and cities and continents. And worlds.

Each one of us is an entire universe inside, we go around, living our lives and never stop to think that the person who is standing in front of you at the red light is exactly that: an infinite universe in themselves.
We walk around with this massive, infinite space trapped within this body, doomed to only share it with clothes, movements, and... words. Ah words, the most awful, separating instrument we own, yet here I am worshipping them, hoping they will open up enough to give me the ability to fully express all that I am, though I am constantly reminded of the impossible possibility. And I am constantly reminded of the unique constellations we are, and your pain may feel like my sorrow, and your love may feel like my hunger, and your happiness may feel like my rage.

My universe is filled with rage, but that rage is made of love, a love that has been unwanted, unsatisfied, tore and stepped on. I don't use the word "love" anymore, I mean, I use it, but I have learned to change its meaning to something less watery and more "rocky".
Not like the splendid mountains, or volcanoes covered in snow, more like the dried-out lands that other universes have destroyed for the sake of the prisons they are in, that one small part of our universe, the part that lets us feel the universe we are all surrounded with, and get in touch with all the others' around.

My love, that deep, majestic, colorful feeling has become harsh, dry and hidden from the light. See the ring was never golden, the ring was wounded flesh and blood, it was betrayal from the ones who promised to love us the most. It was confusion, manipulation and that exact space between the wall, your body, and the knife. Not safe to stay, not safe to run.

Growing up comes with plenty of knowledge, as so with even more of this exact space, you begin to understand society, you want to leave it but you need it, and though it hurts you, it also brings you the most grandiose joys.
So what can we do now?

I have to tear it all down, my gut says, doubtful, as my heart screams "no!" as it's voice breaks with a sharp rip. And so my brain stretches its knots, and hugs them both, hoping to make sense of it all, it asks all the right questions:
Is this just a protection for the pain that may come when someone else would want to tear your house down?
Does it have to be completely destroyed to rebuild what we all dream of?
What will happen with all the memories, the emotions, the love and loss that we shared in it?

So we all cried, hugging, until brain steps away and says:
How do we want our new house to look like?
How can we get it?

The memories will stay in us, what we felt will never be erased. We have each other and we make a great team, we can overcome so much, and there are so many possibilities. So let's mourn the destruction of this house and build-up the very best foundations that we can get with our incredible skills.
And so we all together plan how to make the perfect house, windows on all directions, a terrace with a ceiling, wooden floors that won't creak, pipes that are easily unclogged when they do, solar panels to go with our values and make like easier. Carpets, an old fire stove, a desk right next to a window, the most comfortable chairs, a flowery yard with all the herbs that can help us heal, and a green-house to have food that nurtures our soul, no matter how bad the season goes.

Is this what every house needs? Nurture, warmth, love and fresh air? I can't know, but it is definitely what my house needs, and if I have to tear it down, which we still don't know, it will be fine because we have all the possibilities to make this, the best versions of ourselves.

Therapy 23.09.19

Today she told me I have 20 sessions left and I freaked out, I didn't expect to see the end of this so soon, though it has been over a year.
I didn't think I would be here anytime either, I still wonder how did it all change so fast? I mean, it was so extremely painful and slow, yet it flew.
Honestly, I kind of miss being depressed and having crazy things happening in my life, though there are still a lot of things going on, and I can soon enough focus on my "goals in the palpable reality".

It is interestingly weird to look back like this.
I remember crying unstoppably, naked hugging a pillow and Mx walking into the room after M would tell him to keep an eye on me when he had to go to work. I remember M calling therapists for me and my fear of doing so because of the German, even if the therapists were advertised as English speaking. I remember getting my first call back from the Spanish speaking one, the excitement and the disappointment when she said: "I think you're not sick, you just need to learn German and exercise" after having told me her story and what a strong woman she was. Running in Uruguay, coming to Germany, studying psychiatry, being always the only woman, so special, so strong, ugh. I tried so hard to convince myself Spanish would be better, yet when I told her I was also seeing another one, she tilted her head and said "ah qué linda", I was shocked.
I also remember the one who didn't even speak English and told me to either learn German or "go back to my country", I remember how I should have just left.
I still want to work on being able to do those things, just leave a shitty situation, fully be there for myself. But don't I know already? I just need to keep on practicing.

I remember meeting her in her old office in Halensee and how lucky I was to have met her before she moved to Schöneweide. I would never have found her then.
And in the whole chaos and weirdness, she listened, she was so straight-forward, yet polite and caring, honest. She never judged, but always supported, how damn lucky I am to have her. It does feel weird to stop meeting her, even if I don't know shit about her... This must be my broken self trying to hold on to something impossible, as usual.

Just like I am chasing an idealization of a person that doesn't exist. I wish it was that easy to let go. Before I know it I get all weird and it's like a test.

And as hours have passed I wonder, was this good feeling just passing by? I am really freaking out now, have I honestly done that much progress? I remember her words:
"Of course you will be scared of swimming if you had a traumatic experience in the water, but you have learned to swim, so it won't ever feel that bad again."
She is right, but I am freaking out anyway.

Realization

Having spent some time feeling appreciated and worthy, I come to the realization that what I am asking for is not unhealthy, I am not being clingy or needy or too much.

I have done enough work to stop covering my pains and fears with others' company and daring to face them as it is best for me: on my own.

What I am asking from you is not too much. I am reading a book and in it, there are pieces of a love story that keeps me feeling butterflies and pain, and as I gaze at each word, I come to understand that it is not only me, the breaking tool.

And though I wish I had been confident enough to stand up for this on my own, seeing it clearly makes me shake in my grave: I buried myself, alive, and the more soil covered my naked body, the more I believed I was cold, still, dead.

I understand now that the way I feel makes sense to the way we are. How could I not have judged that I am worthy of love when all I saw was me crawling to you, while you were just there, strong and still?

Though that was my own perception, right? I know now you are not standing still or strong, you are just standing, trying hard, and I am sorry for not having seen that before despite how much you told me.

I doubt myself, my heart, my brain, my body... All because I always pick the pie that gives me stomach pain, I eat too much, sugar addiction, love. 

So, how do I break the pattern? How can I continue without this if it hurts and scares me? I worry about you, about me and my loneliness. I see you standing still, and decay trying to hold your head against my chest to keep you afloat. 

You don't need me I know, but I won't leave you alone now because I care about you too much to just walk away like this. And then the fear comes to mind: What if I am the one causing all of this? What if this is my doing somehow and if I get out you will be just fine? Well isn't that what I want for you, even if it is without me? 

Yes.

I have gone a long way, and I have embraced my solitude and understood my joys, and though it is hard for my mind to believe that I am ready, my heart tells me I am. The reasons for this have shifted, the fears are still there, but I have stronger feet after walking barefoot on the stones for so long, naked on this cold beach, stares grilling my breasts as I despise them in the reflection of the water. I have seen the hate at the center of each step, and the broken love deeper in there.

I understand my soul better now, and I can see you more clearly too, and I am not going away, but I am chasing my happiness too.

Make me.

You keep taking away the few stable ideas I have left of our compromise, and you look at me with your sad eyes as I cry because you hurt me again. Guilt rises in me until I end up taking care of you.

I didn't eat today, and honestly, I want to make you feel bad. I am too sad and frustrated to be the patient, loving, magical creature I am most of the time.

I can endure a lot, though this is too much even for me.

Are you trying to make me leave?

Impotencia

Me siento impotente, incluso después de poner mis límites, me molesta que no me preguntes sobre ellos aunque los aceptes.
It must be me that is so fucked up, I mean, you fucking accept them each time and that makes me feel bad anyway, like, are you even interested in me at all?
And there you go asking me about my masturbation, while you masturbate but can't have sex with me. So there I go again, I should move out and break up, I can't have an open relationship with you, I can't not have sex with you. I feel this fire inside me, not like a passionate kind of fire, but the destruction kind, I call that "impotencia".
The English word doesn't work the same, though maybe it does but not in the feelings the word provokes.

I don't need your sad eyes when I am standing strong. I need you to show me that you are interested in my inner world, I need a conversation.
We are back here: Each fucking interaction leads to me feeling like shit, either I state my boundaries or not, and the only reason why things get better is because my feelings wash away over time and you avoid and force me to avoid the talk. Then I care about you and I just push my emotions into a box of things to check on later, and I forget.
I forget myself.

Why am I so clear of this, but I can't leave? Why can't I just stop? Why can't I stand stronger for myself and cut something that makes me feel so bad?
I have been keeping record of our interactions, and it's not looking good. Two bad things for one good, except when I fell completely into the trap: you completely pull back, then give me breadcrumbs and I am content. But I am not happy with breadcrumbs, I will never be happy with just breadcrumbs.
And there again: "get better, take care of your health" that is our goal, but how much more sadness and loneliness do I have to endure until then? I can see my progress, I feel it, but I don't see yours, and then again going into "I need your words", I need you to communicate your progress because I can't know it, I can't see it, and I am believing that there is only avoidance, and I can't take more avoidance.

I feel "impotencia" because I can't force you to move and you won't let me help you either, you don't take me seriously, you dismiss my knowledge and advice, I can't express myself without hurting or pushing you and I am not satisfied in too many ways.

Siento impotencia porque no veo avance en tus procesos y los míos son suficientemente pesados. Entonces qué es mejor: Estar completamente sola, o estar sola y tener ayuda en ciertas cosas?

Suena simple, pero no lo es, porque siempre hay más de lo que cualquier externe que lea esto puede llegar a saber. Y claro, quiero una solución, un consejo, pero nadie puede darme un consejo mejor que yo misma, y hace un buen rato me estoy inclinando por la primera opción.

Volver.

Quizás es tiempo de volver.
Honestamente ya no recuerdo el español, pero no soy tan perfecta en inglés, y ese miedo que siento cuando escucho parejas en Alemán debe significar algo. No nos entendemos, pero ya no me entiendo ni a mi. Me perdí tratando de encontrarme, pero en realidad es que nunca me tuve, primero fui de ella, después de él y un retorno a ella hasta que escapé, pero la jaula sigue ahí.

No puedo escapar de ella, convirtió mi subconsciente en la prisión perfecta. Puedo teñirme el pelo, hacerme tatuajes, tener sexo con todo Berlín, pero estoy atrapada en esa voz que me odia, que me desanima, que me presiona. Estoy atrapada en tu voz mamá, suéltame.

Quizás es tiempo de volver, o de partir de nuevo.
Tengo cierta libertad ahora, pero no. El sistema, la sociedad, la moral, la ética, pero no puedo bañarme en el lago si está envenenado, no hay decisión correcta.
No hay decisión correcta y no podemos escapar!

Quizás es tiempo de irme, a donde sea.
Me libero de tu pena, pero no importa cuánto arranque, la cárcel va a seguir aquí, adentro mío.

Quiero morir porque no hay libertad ni esperanza. Quiero morir porque no hay amor.

Sick

I never doubted my writing, I know it is not the best, but yesterday night, as I wrote yet another pretty brain dump, it hit me.
I have been writing my entire life, but it has gotten me nowhere, ever. And sure, there can be so many reasons, but one of them could be the fact that my writing is not great, right?

How can I have been writing for 20 years and still not be good enough?

The doubt remains: There has to be more to life than just this, right?
Misery and depression, getting a job, fight for your rights, eat dirt over and over.
And then, why am I so scared of death... Honestly, how can that be better or worse than life? Life is bullshit, that is what I feel right now.

I wish I was never called beautiful as a child, I wish people would have known and loved me for other reasons, like that I am smart, or kind, or weird... But why beautiful?
Maybe I am not as smart as him, or weird as her, or kind as that other one, but I don't want to be just beautiful, or sexy, or whatever shit like that.

I am more than a body, yet I am trapped in the stereotype: I am beautiful and that is why I had such a great time in my adolescence.

Pan, why did you like me from the beginning? I'm asking you because we had something that lasted quite some time.
-
I remember when we used to write our posts for each other, even after having broken up, all our fears we could find right there, online in a secret yet public place.

Now I don't remember writing in Spanish anymore, I don't even remember how I felt back then, All I see now around me is a veil of darkness, though that veil is reality and not just a lense. I am tired, I am depressed, how is life supposed to feel? Am I the only empty one? Me and all the broken ones?

Pan, are you happy? Where has your life led to? What is the recipe for happiness? To know yourself, to have a passion, to be really good at something?

Is it love? Is it lust? Is it being independent? Is it partying?

Why am I so empty, so depressed? As rainy as today...


Sometimes I lie, sometimes I do bad things. Sometimes I question what I did. How sick can I get?

Prison.

Between nougat bits and pretzel sticks, I feel dry.
If I don't go to you, you don't come to me,
you just don't come to me.

Lying next to a body that loves so much, yet can't be free.
I get that prison,
I am stuck there too.

I'm in the yard, and you are in the shoe,
but it's the same prison in the end.

We share the striped moon at night, the only time we both dare to dream though we can only cry.
Because you and I are both dry,
and maybe, our adventure makes us worse.

I need to calm down,
you need to feel.
we are trapped in the prison of our minds.

Torn between

I saw a woman on the street today, walking slowly with her red, wavy, long hair and a smile that reminded me of the first hours of sunrise, she was looking at the baby on her chest. The baby, fast asleep.

I couldn't enjoy her joy because I am too caught up in my sadness. Instead, I saw her hair, I felt her warm freshness and I felt poisoned, as I always do.

I am torn between enjoying life and drawing. See, drowning is how life has felt ever since I wasn't born yet, that is the simple and comfortable place I can stay.
Poisoned is my safe place, and so poisoned is my entire existence.

Poisoned by unfinished things, by envy and jealousy, by sadness, by hate. So much hate in my blood, I get dizzy by the memories and the imaginations of fights, my blood is easily boiled at any small thing, but then again. how could it not, in all the injustice of the disgusting society we live in?


I wish I was free and safe, to walk in the woods, fearless, talking to whoever consents, learning. Having other beings for an afternoon with tea in the winter, learning from each other, sharing a laugh or two.


I imagine my happy life and I see a forest, and a house, with a fire near the corner and a teapot steaming over it. I see myself writing in next to a window, looking outside and seeing green, wet leaves, and grass, tree trunks, and flowers, mushrooms too. I see a little shelter in the middle of the garden, a triangular-shaped room made almost entirely of glass, I see the ivy hanging from the ceiling and an old stove in the middle, rugs, cushions, candles and a box, on top of it, my notebooks and crystals and cards.
I see herbs and water too, I smell eucalyptus steaming from the stove, and I feel alone, yet complete. I know that the world is safe for all living beings equally, and I have loved ones and strangers coming over for tea each afternoon, some stay the night, some leave, with some we get dizzy and dance, though I always dance, free.

And some days, someone special comes to visit, though some others, I leave to visit them. We share walks in the forest, picnics in the park, we go to the movies, to restaurants and on journeys in our van and our feet. They still live in the city, but I live nearby. We are free, we are loved and we are happy.


It all is so far that seems impossible, and honestly, it must be.
My restraints are too tight to ever be free from them, I have no hope but overwhelming feelings of impotence. Unfinished books, unfinished projects, unfinished self, and so much work ahead and right now, to just survive me.

It sounds ridiculous, I am trying to survive me. But it is the truth, my own worst enemy is me, my past, my fears, my desires, the things I care about, my love and my sadness, my family, my future, all that I am is what plays against me every single day of my life.


So I am torn, between who I want to be, who I could be, and where I am, inside this prison slowly built by me as I saw my mother, my father, my classmates, my friends, my foes, my lovers, and the entire world, hate themselves and everyone, and everything else.

Circling

I was never a loud crier, I didn't ever make much drama or threw tantrums. I was always way too shy for that.
I would just go to my room and cry in silence, hold the tears until it was time to go to bed or lock myself in the bathroom, but not for long because my mother would go and ask if I was ok. There was no privacy in my house, all doors had to be always open, and she was always listening through the corners, standing in silence, waiting to open your door and find you doing something, anything that would make her upset or angry at you.
A closed-door meant something bad was happening, the only times she closed hers, was when we got into such a fight that she "couldn't take it anymore" and then I would have to go and apologize because well, she was always right.

I still remember being so scared of confronting her that I would write letters, which she would read back to me aloud pointing out all the orthographical mistakes I had made, all the wrong "s,c or z", all the lack of accentuation marks, the lack of "h" or the extra ones, the commas and periods I didn't put. She made me feel extremely embarrassed of myself, and I could never stop her, I still can't.
And of course, no emotions were addressed. No talk followed up my letters but a display of shame.

I got better at confronting her afterward, especially during the teenage years, little did I know that she can never be wrong and if she gets close to that, "I am the monster now" she would say looking to the side and not talking to you for a week. Only the necessary, which she would say my father did that to her all the time... As I see it now, I am sure it was her.

Though my father is no saint either if anything, he only contributed to my pains, my lack of self-worth, of identity, of courage.

But that is another story, and I am having trouble focusing again.


-

Sometimes I see people who have known and followed their dreams and I feel like a failure because I don't even know what my dreams are. But then, I see their pictures with their parents, how they seem flawed but loving, and I ask the air why.
I have nothing to wish anymore, not even if my mother was healed things could be better, what is done is done, my pains, my traumas, are all in me and unless I was born again, total reset, I will have to continue to deal with them.
Sure, probably with a healed mother, it would be easier, but I need to take the matters into my hands, and that is what I have been doing for a long time.
This is a messy process, this is me drowning, this is me lost, this is me wanting to give up and trying to find something to give me joy.



-


"I feel miserable, he rejected me again". Water clouded my eyes as I formulated the next sentence, "I am just repeating my relationship with my mother, though with my partner. It is as toxic, I am avoiding everything by playing the game of being sufficient and ok with things when I am not. But this time I don't have the teenage rage to confront them. I know they are not my mother, they are different, they are working on their issues, but it has been a long time and he is still constantly rejecting me".

Jana frowned in empathy. "I am still struggling to know if I should break up with them or not if it would be better to start over on my own. I searched for options and things are possible, but I am lonely, and I know you are already aware of all of this. I am scared"

And then she said, "maybe, you could make a list of how much you invest and receive in your relationship, that may help you be more clear on what your relationship really looks like".

That woman is a saint... though, it is her job after all.

Stagnation and the heat.

"I feel miserable, he rejected me again". Water started clouding my eyes as I formulated another sentence, I knew it was the same topic over and over, " maybe I should just break up with them, maybe I will never be happy with someone like that. I need to be with someone enthusiastic, not with someone from who I receive constant rejection in so many different ways".

Jana sat on her chair, with her eyebrows held up through the middle as a sign of empathy for the person sitting between next to and in front of her, even though she had heard this exact same phrasing over and over again.

That woman is a saint, though... it is her job.

Should I stay or should I go is what comes to my mind every single day for the past year, and I dreamed about them and her again, but my dreams have changed drastically. In this one specifically, I said all I wanted to say and left them without regretting it. And they came running behind me in pain, "I don't want to be with her".
However, my dreams have changed, but not the way I feel.

I still feel like I am drowning in an ocean of toxic waste with no land on sight, I can't breathe the air outside because it is just evaporated poison. It is way too hot lately, inside and out.
The toxins are making their way onto my bloodstream and I can't stay focus anymore, I feel my feelings and I cry inevitably, there is no easy way out, either I drown or I keep pushing through. I wish there were scrapped pieces of anything to hold on to and navigate through this, but there is around me at all.
The fluid is turbulent, gooey and dark, I can't see past my own neck, and the horizon is always bloody red. I wish I were dead, because I am so desperate, though I don't let myself drown, I don't know exactly why.

I am thinking of my mother now, how she won't let herself drown, her fear of everything, without the awareness of it, always so proud and toxic, just like this ocean. I hate her so much, yet I feel so guilty about it. I still wish her happiness, to heal and find what she deserves, she had such a difficult life, but it is not my responsibility to either fix or take care of her.
I still feel so much guilt, I still wish we had a healthy relationship.

I don't know if I have only been avoiding these feelings, or if things are actually better on that. I wish I had a mother, instead of a monster. I wish I had been born in a healthy family, all would be so much easier.
Maybe I would have understood who I am from the beginning, I would have seen and accepted my changes, I would have known and pursued my passions, and accept my flaws. Maybe I would have loved myself no matter what because no one would have taught me that love is a conditional thing. Maybe I could actually love fully and unconditionally because I would have gotten that as a child, instead of manipulation and love on demand.
I was a human being, not netflix.

And now, as I say this, I wish I could hug that child and tell her "Dani, tú mereces amor incondicional, igual que todos los demás seres. Tú eres una llama brillante dentro de tu propio cuerpo, tú eres tuya, y no importa lo que hagas o no, las decisiones que tomes, los errores que cometas, eres una persona que merece amor, y yo siempre voy a amarte, aunque nos enojemos o discutamos, aunque a veces sintamos que nos odiamos, siempre siempre siempre te voy a amar, y voy a estar a tu lado."


-


I still don't know if I should stay or leave, I checked for help to find a place to live, just in case. I am still lost and drowning, but maybe that little flame inside me has hope on me, it loves and believes in me no matter what, and maybe that is why I keep swimming in this ocean gooey dark water.

Maybe there is water in this fluid, and that water is giving me enough strength to keep pushing forward.

Matters.

I'm crawling to get back to a familiar place, but there is nowhere to go, no one to ask for directions. As the days get darker, so does my soul, and the spaces get tighter and you just say no.

It is interesting to be so clear about certain things, to be conscious about what used to be subconscious, talking about feelings is easier, boundaries are easier, but they still hurt.

I have been getting used to the thought of "what I want (with you) doesn't matter, because you don't want the same", and then maybe I should also move away from that because I matter.

Yes, subconscious, I matter, take that in, because it's staying, because it's healthy.



It takes about two months for a brain to create a new habit, so after two months working on one thing, my brain should accept it, right?

Why is it that my socially related needs are not being met? I don't think it's me honestly, it's just that we don't match, but I want you, but I like you, but I love you.

Why doesn't that matter?

"Everyone is better off without me" (part 1)

How to re-tell this story?

This is so connected to envy and the "I want that for myself".
This is connected to boundaries, the harshness, and the search.

It was triggering to hear you say it over and over again, it was worse when all you said felt on purposely against me like I say yes and that is why you say no, no other reason.
I am just avoiding, she called me "the master of avoidance" because I was so sneaky about it, she just now realized, it's been a year and a month.

I am harvesting, but I am as scared as I used to.
I still want to write.

You both don't need me, but that isn't enough reason to say that you are better off without me. Maybe you are, but I think he isn't. I am not a bad person, even if you think so, with all your judgment and your higher position, sorry I am being so harsh, but I am upset.

Sorry for having emotions and not knowing how to handle them, and reacting when things hurt me too much to deal with it in any conscious and super stable way, but also, I am not sorry.
Because I am trying my best with what I have, I am learning to navigate through myself and with myself, I am learning to feel, to communicate, to understand, to be conscious of all these things, and if you expect a saint to put on a pedestal, that is not me, I don't deserve or want that.
What I want is understanding, for my own peace of mind.

It's not my fault you had me somewhere that wasn't for me, and it's not my fault I disappointed your extremely high expectations. But overall I hate this middle ground, I am scared of you and your clever language, and your harsh opinions. I am scared of that unbreakable judgment that constantly says "you are wrong", I want to learn of my mistakes, but some "you are wrong"s, are only based on your biased experiences in life, and it's interesting since you know you don't own the truth, you know you aren't right all the time.

Today I told her that maybe I don't want to have a relationship with you for you, but for my loneliness, and she said: "does it matter?"
And she was right, of course. I am just finding a way of being ok with something I am not, of avoiding the confrontation because the way you point out every single one of my mistakes, over and over again, is the same way my mother used to read my letter aloud and point out all my punctuation and orthographical mistakes. Never addressing the feelings I poured onto those letters, never addressing her feelings, never seeing my pain as real pain. I was angry and mistaken, that is all she got, while I was broken and scared, she never assumed any mistakes she did, even now she doesn't.

And seeing all the similarities I think, I am barely talking to her, and she is my mother, then why do I still care about you? Why do I even want this closure, if I could just let go of this?



That is still not enough reason for me to think I am a bad person, therefore, everyone leaves me after they have chewed enough of the sugar coating, but this can also be a pattern in the people I like.
I am also wrong and definitely biased, but I don't wait for others to make mistakes just to point them out to make them feel bad.

Like all the comments about what I post on my Instagram stories related to veganism, I don't feel like a higher person, and when I did feel that way, I opened up to you only to receive judgment, judgment, judgment.
So harsh... to me.

You are better off without me, but I am also better off without you.
This talk scared me because it will change the dynamic and we are forced here.

It's hard wanting to be so harsh, honest, brutal, but when it comes to the time of talking I freeze, I fear, I forget and I get distracted. I don't even know what to say... Maybe start with:

I am hurt. The interviews triggered me because I had to hear you saying the same thing about friendships and boundaries over and over again. I know it's not fully related to me, but I am also in there somewhere, and I am not well at handling uncertainty. So all I want is to know if you want to continue/restart this friendship, if we'll just be mates from now on or if you need time to decide and you will come to me to talk about it.
I want to know if it's just me and my issues that make me feel you are actively against all I like, do, want or say, or not. Because I have felt that way for a very long time now, and the interviews made it even more clear.
Sure, maybe I am being all crazy about this, but this is who I am. I overthink these things, and I feel that you trashing Florence and the machine, as harshly as it can be without making it clearly inappropriate over a pretty chill talk that definitely didn't need that, is about actively hating me and all I am, or not. Because that is how it feels, though this is just one example, and very superficial, I do feel like you hate me, you like all that is completely the opposite to me, and well, we used to be friends, and I honestly don't know how you got there, if you did.
I know this may change things a lot, but at least it won't be tiring me little by little after each time we spend any time together, I want to be free from this burden and I want an honest answer, to look for a way to handle this for me.




Then the things I won't add are all the shitty comments between lines like: "of course you will point out all my mistakes as you read this because I am not using an inclusive term for this, or I am using an insensitive term for that, mother", "of course you won't even care about this because you hate me as I have felt throughout this whole process", "leave me alone, let me be, stop judging me".

There are more things I won't add because it will only taint the message, even if I really want to discharge my rage and pain.
I regret having said that I miss you, but that is my pride and my extremely hurt inner child being judged by their mother. However, as I write this, I don't care anymore what your answer will be, it's awkward, but I don't have the energy for this, and I don't want to have it, so as I deliver this, I am letting go of you, your opinions, your judgment and your fake superiority, mother.

Sentimientos

Tantas veces desearía ser un robot, hacer solamente, que nada me pudiera parar. Pero el mayo obstáculo que enfrento a diario en todo ámbito de mi existencia, soy yo.
Son mis emociones que me apretan el pecho y me tapan los oídos, me dejan ciega y sin palabras, mientras me golpean hasta que caigo desganada, cansada y atontada. A veces lucho de vuelta, sigo avanzando, sigo intentando, pero el cansancio se hace el doble, el triple, y cuando caigo en cama no puedo dormir porque ahí están las infinitas voces de mi cabeza que no se callan nunca. Cállense! Cállense! Cállense!
Por qué no puedo controlar mi propia cabeza!? Por qué mi mente me juega en contra? ... Madre.

Hoy no quiero nada, no quiero trabajar, no quiero música, no quiero ver netflix, no quiero comer, no quiero estar con otros. Hoy necesito dormir, y hoy, mientras me preparaba el desayuno lo más rápido posible para no enfrentarme a nadie en la cocina, quería que alguien me hiciera desayuno, específicamente que mi pareja lo hiciera.
Quiero estar con alguien que tenga iniciativa, que salga de la cama y de la pieza antes de tener que irse a trabajar, que tenga la iniciativa de salir a pasear conmigo. No que todo lo que le proponga se sienta como una tarea más que una alegría.

Y cómo no me voy a sentir sola si me pareciera que todo lo que hace conmigo es una tarea? Si pareciera que toda la gente que me rodea aquí en realidad están conmigo porque yo intento e intento y aguanto y y sigo intentando y sufro pero sigo... No quiero más eso.

Quiero estar con gente que quiere estar conmigo, no porque no tengan a nadie más, pero porque soy yo a quien valoran.

Y por eso tengo tanta pena, una pena profunda de toda la vida. Allá en Chile no se veía tan exhuberante porque había gente que me valoraba por quien soy, que querían salir conmigo, específicamente conmigo. Había tantas cosas que podíamos hacer, tantos barrios por conocer. Santiago es una ciudad gigante, no como Berlín, que es tan pequeña y vacía, tan vacía como mi corazón.

Quiero silencio, quiero calma, quiero amor.
Quiero ser recordada de que quienes me rodean, me valoran. Y si no me valoran, no les quiero alrededor mío. Vállanse! Déjenme sola, que es mejor sentirse y estar sola, que sentirse sola y estar con gente que he atado para tener cerca.

La verdad es que sé que esto es en gran parte mi problema, yo soy la que no sabe como dejar a la gente libre y sobre todo ser libre frente a elles.
Pero aquí estoy, poniendo mis límites y expresando mis necesidades, aprendiendo cada día sobre lo que siento, lo que quiero y lo que no. Sobre todo lo que no...

Hoy quiero estar sola, salir al bosque y acostarme en el pasto o en la arena, quizás bañarme en el lago, tomar té, escribir y dibujar, leer y sentir. Quiero que mi mente se calle un rato.
Pero cambiaría todo eso por une amigue que estuviera aquí, al lado mío, que me diera una abrazo y que me acompañara, que me valorara y que me mostrara lo feliz que es de tenerme en su vida.

Quiero que Moritz me haga desayuno de sorpresa cuando sabe que ayer me sentí tan mal, quiero que me diga "vamos al bosque, hagamos un picnic, metámonos al agua", quiero que me de un abrazo y que esté dispuesto a acurrucarse conmigo hasta que me quede dormida... Sí, sí sé, ese no es él, entonces... No quiero estar con él?

"you tried"

I've been having this urge to write, but nothing comes out. Each time I finally manage to sit in front of the computer, too many expectations come and destroy all this could be, I cry and go back to bed.

I want to write a story because I haven't in such a long time, but there are so many things inside me that I can't really focus on anything external at the moment, and turning the inside into a story may be too difficult for the current state of my mind.

I can't focus on anything for more than 3 minutes, seriously, writing these few words has been a headache, but I need to, I need to do something to bring me back to myself.

And what is more me than writing, I started as a child, it was the only way for me to talk about my emotions, and it was what I loved doing the most as I had to wait for entire evenings in my mother's office, in that time when the internet wasn't "a thing", and smartphones didn't exist, I am talking you would carry paper and pencils to write and draw for entertaining yourself.

Sometimes I think about those times and wonder if they were actually better? Because I see a lot of "better" there, but then I get stuck thinking about how we could do so much better with the resources we have now. Though we are stuck in the goldfish focus span, the stressful, always in a hurry, little time society and culture we are living.
When will we slow down? No more growing exponentially, what about enjoying life now?

And then I try to do that on my own, with my own life, but my partner is impatient and in a hurry, and my job is delivering food as fast as possible, and my friends don't have the time, and I have far too many projects to be able to focus on one and do it slowly, enjoying the energy and emotions of the creative process.

And now is when I get to that overwhelming emotion of not wanting to keep on working on this forever, thinking about the future, about the German, about the world coming to an end, about my nieces, and so I cry again and lay on my bed, depressed once more.

I don't want to go to work, I want to write today.
Each time I start writing and I feel stuck, this moment of light comes where the words just flow out of my fingers and I don't think much as they just show up on the screen.

I want to write a story, a novel, a sequel... And when I think about the process that it takes, to create a world, and characters and situations, I feel overwhelmed and I get all into aesthetics and I want to draw the characters, but I am not good enough a drawing for my own expectations of how I want this illustration to look like.

Leo is moving out and it makes me really happy because things never really worked with all of us. But also this brings a lot more triggers, pressures and fears...

I am in a really bad place again, I tried really hard to stay positive, stay in the moment, present. And it worked for a while, but then the deeper pains came out again. See I think that the problem with being present is that it may lead you to just suppress what is making you unhappy, and that is extremely problematic because usually, feeling unhappy is a signal that something needs to change. that there is something you have to pay attention to.

Maybe though, this is just my lack of fully understanding the "being present" thing. It's pretty hard to understand things deeply nowadays because there is so much shallow information repeated all over the internet... Like someone found a phrase and then just built a bunch of shallow stuff around it without explaining it better, and then to find the real stuff you have to buy a book or something...

The internet can be so great, and also so shitty.

I want to do morning pages again, or the "daily vomit", some kind of emotional part to add to the morning routine, but I am scared that it won't work if I make it bigger and longer. I can only do it so far because it is easy and it feels good.

Today I showed up for myself, I did my morning routine though I am feeling like a zombie slowly rotting inside. I should celebrate, but I don't know how.

Last night I was feeling so bad. These past few days I have felt so tired, and I just don't know how to take care of myself.
Sleeping is impossible in this weather, this light, this noise. Meditating doesn't work right now because my mind is constantly going too fast and never shuts up, art stuff don't work because I am not good enough at them and so I just demotivate myself thinking I am a failure, studying German demotivates me too because it is hard and I have been here for far too long to not speak it already... And writing... the story, the novel, the sequel...

I can see perfectly how all of these are just expectations that keep me from doing things, but it is hard to let go of them. I mean, if you want to draw, and it turns out really horrible, or even worse, you can't even do more than a line... An ugly line! How can you feel good with that?
"You tried" isn't a compliment... fuck this society that poisoned us to believe that "you tried" is not good enough.

So, here is the teaching of this writing:

Work on changing the poisoned meaning of "you tried" because "you tried" is good enough.

The feeling.

I don't know what to write about, but I have this feeling. I woke up at 6:30am because of a truck that stood in front of the building for far too long, and by the time Mo closed the window, it was already gone. I was cold, but now I am warm, my feet feel weird and I made too much food.
See I thought it was going to be hungry after the shower and the laundry and this feeling, this bloody feeling... It goes a bit like this:

The noise woke me up, the first lights of the morning were right behind the curtain and it was cold, as winter. It reminded me when, as a child, I would wake up early every day to go to school, and how much I hated it, but it came with such good things because I honestly really enjoyed going to school, at least since I was 14 or so. It was a pretty hippie school and most of my classmates had been raised in this empathetic, loving, open environment, so it was really easy to adapt to it, and since they didn't get many new students, I was kind of popular in my own low-key-weirdo type of vibe, and I loved it. I felt completely free to be myself, which now I see as a huge privilege because that is not how life itself is, and that is not how high school is for most people. But we were lucky.

So, the feeling: It comes with this anxious feeling, but very mild and almost nice, like excitement. Like being anxious about a social situation that you're really looking forward to it. As a child, this was my push to do things, I would feel this feeling and I would just ask myself: "Ok Dunyo, what is it that you want to do? What is this body sensation trying to tell you?" and as I said a bunch of things I thought I may want, the feeling would either get stronger or weaker, the stronger it got, the closer I was to find out what was that ideal thing.

But the feeling also comes with a certain loneliness, some calm sadness, low-key emptiness. It feels a lot like lo-fi, just go over to youtube and type in "lofi", play any that says lonely, midnight or sad, if it brings you a feeling that is hard to describe, then that is exactly it.

Restlessness.

So now, what I wonder is if this feeling actually just made me feel bad as a child like I couldn't understand, nor handle it, and so I created the coping mechanism of asking myself what I wanted to do and therefore, the nervous excitement I have was just created over something that is pure sadness, restlessness, and loneliness.

It makes me think of home, of my mother, of my childhood, the good and the bad parts, it makes me sad, restless, but comfortable. It is as complex as the feeling that drove me to draw myself in caves and holes, with the blankets and pillows and fires, maybe it is even the same one... I am actually pretty sure it is the same one, just adding a bit of this instead of that.


Comfortable.

Is this feeling comfortable because it is familiar? Just like a toxic person who you feel really into because they seem familiar, only you don't realize either the toxicity nor the reasons why it is familiar, not even that it is familiar at all! Until overtime, things start getting difficult, and if you are aware enough of your traumas, you start recognizing what it is. Those character traits that, that someone in your childhood had and now feel comfortable, no matter how toxic it really is.

This is something I wonder a lot about. In spite of how aware I am of this, and how I can see all the resembles between my partner and my mother, I still decide to be with them*. And now is the question: Is it healthy though?
I know my partner is a completely different person than my mother is, even if they have similar traits, reactions or patterns. I also know my partner is working on their issues, as I work on mine, and something I am completely certain of is that we love each other so fucking much. We love each other in this way that went from magical idealism to realistic committed love, and though we may still be in this transition, it feels like we are going the right way.
We are going back to being individuals who enjoy the other one's company and support them, as we take care of our own selves, our needs, and desires and strive to become a complete person, instead of covering our own despair with the excitement of a relationship or the company of someone else.

This is too important.

It was a Sunday, the second of June, the days were finally starting to get the feeling of summer after such a long and grey Berlin winter.

We had gone to one more of those complicated family visits and I had dealt with my so-called "greatest fear", we met her, face to face, and it was the most awful situation I have been through in years. I felt weak and triggered for days after, but we survived, despite the fact that you already were showing signs of giving up. I didn't want to see them, so I didn't.

We talked about the end a few times before, we knew things were not working out, but I also knew, and know, that I can endure through insane amounts of pain without breaking, but you know better how to take care of yourself.
And just as it has happened before, after a situation with the greatest fear, there was no more strength in you, no more love for me.

I was so scared of going through the same again and I did, I am exactly where I was back then, with the tall glasses:
Not being able to set and respect my boundaries, and feeling them making decisions for both of us while I don't stick to mine. And that is exactly my problem.

I did change something, I took the situation in my hands and tried to solve it, but sometimes even when we do something different, it is actually the same. I still don't know what I should've done, maybe having realized what I will explain in a bit.



Sometimes I don't fully listen to myself, no matter how hard I try, there are things that I just can't grab. I feared this would happen, and especially now that my biggest help is gone, and instead of asking her for tips to survive this time without her, I was distracted with the situation with my mother. I should've focused on my emotions from the beginning, not what was happening around me, but inside me.

Oh, how I wish I had said something to her, but how I wish, even more, you and I could be together, we could be happy, how I wish you hadn't given up on us, or I had realized this whole inner mess before, and that we could have all our beautiful times forever, without the bad parts.

How I wish I could fully internalize that this is not my fault, that yes, I am flawed, but you stopped accepting it, and it is not working, not because I am unloveable, broken, or sick, but because we don't match anymore: You can't give me what I need, and I can't give it to you either.

It makes me infinitely envious to think that someone else will be able to give that to you because I couldn't, it makes me infinitely sad to think of all the plans we will never complete together, including living in a van in New Zealand, and travel around, all the hiking trips, swimming naked in the lake, the trip to Spain by train-hopping, all the trips to the beach that I wanted and never happened, being healthy and having the relationship we really wanted to have, cumming together, at the same time...

And it makes me infinitely anxious to think about dealing with all I have to, the new flat, the new job, the new flatmates, the pain of these changes, the pain of not having you close, the misery of not having my closest friend around anymore, and all the support I won't get, not because you gave me so much, but because I am unable to let that come from other friends, besides the fact that you actually are my oldest friend in Berlin.

So, of course, I feel left alone, of course, I feel lonely and abandoned, of course, it is impossible to feel like creating boundaries for our current situation of living together will be good.
I am scared of going through the real break up because so far, we broke up but we are still together, and then again, why is this a bad thing?
To go through the break up with you, mourn together, keep on kissing, keep on spending time together, eating, hugging, saying goodnight and hello, talking about the things we won't get to do or have...
I mean, this may be a good thing, right?

What if this is actually the best way for me to break up? To have you this close until we actually become friends. But then, what if all this love you are giving me because we have a certain distance, dissipates suddenly and you'll stop giving it to me and I will be devastated for the tenth time?
Then, of course, creating boundaries to just go through the pain once and for all, and to protect myself from letting you, once again, do whatever you want with me, from feeling frustrated and angry because you only give me what I need when you want to give it to me and then take it away, and from feeling deceived, seems to be the right answer.

It doesn't mean what you do is wrong, you understand your boundaries, you know and respect your limits, which is an amazing thing to know, and it is something I need to learn in order to take care of myself better. Love hides my void, but the more love I get, the bigger the void becomes because my physical body is screaming at me to take care of my mind, my emotionality. The void can't ever be filled by anyone external, the void was created as a child who feels guilty for existing and a burden to everyone who is by their side, so this child is constantly looking for reminders of love from the people around them, and the more it gets, the more it needs.
I know the only solution for me is to fill the void with my own love, respect, and self-worth. I have to take care of this child to be myself again because I have lost me in the void, I have lost me in relationships that weren't fulfilling, in friends that keep me busy, in plans and dreams and hopes that I never find the courage to do because I am too scared, too empty, too weak, to move through with any of it.

I wish to tell you that I want to go through this journey together, that we can both take care of our own selves, for real this time, and be together too. That now I know what I need to do, and that I will stop making our relationship the excuse for not moving forward. I have gained a huge clarity, without even having really broken up.
Would you give us another chance? If I put up my boundaries, if I take care of my void, if I deal with myself and if we can have mostly the great times again.
Would it be possible for me to do this now that I see it so clearly, to stay with you, and work on this at the same time? Will I stay on the right track?
I wish she was here to help me see if this hope is only false, temporary hope, or if it is actually possible.
The problem with the control issues is questioning everything and the problem with questioning everything is that nothing is certain, and then I feel anxious and unable to make a decision.

But I need to remember that much of life is uncontrollable, I can only be there for myself when things get out of hand, only I can make myself happy, and externals are there for love, support and reminders of worth when I am in doubt, but I have to first, feel my own worth, know that I am innately worthy. My worth is unmeasurable, not the skills, knowledge or experiences I possess are my worth, nor the issues, mistakes or regrets make me less worthy. I am worthy because of the mere fact of being a living being in this universe of wonderful living things, just like the smallest of insects and the biggest tallest trees. I am not more worthy than a rapist, I am not less worthy than a child, I am as worthy as them and everyone between.
It is a really hard thing to see because we judge, of course, a rapist is a bad person, and I would never defend that, but it is a worthy living being in its essence, no matter the decisions or issues that it has, because they are alive, and part of this constellation. And so I am.

I am not able to let go of my judgment, and I don't want to, because it keeps me alive in danger or stress, but I have to accept my entire self, accept my issues and the things that I don't like so much about me, to see that my worth is not measured on a scale, it is just there, innate to anything, no matter the mistakes I have made, no matter the things I don't know, no matter the things I can't do.



I am worthy, right here, right now. It will not start tomorrow, it will not start when I have dealt with my jealousy (as stupid as that seems now after understanding this), it will not start with a new job, a different house, a different partner or different friends, it will not start with finding my passions, and following them, nor with a new diet or more exercise, not with a new better body, mind or nose. It is already in me, I am worthy because I am, nothing else.