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.