Question of the day.

Hi guys! ๐Ÿ™‚

This is my question for you today:

When was the first time you remember feeling really angry?

My answer:

I generally wasn’t the type of a child that would easily get angry, not in my very early years anyway, later it started to look a bit different, when I would bottle it all up and then my brain would suddenly throw it all out at once and I’d feel out of control, but when I was very small I remember I was actually wondering why people get so angry so often about everything, and how do they do it, like as if I didn’t even know how to be properly angry. ๐Ÿ˜€ Yet my very first childhood memory is all about anger. The first thing in my life that I remember is when Olek was born. I was 2 then, and some people tried to persuade me that children don’t remember things at that young age, but, well, turns out that I do, at least this one thing, maybe because of how intense it felt. Mum was in the hospital, and me and Dad came to visit her. I remember clearly when we came in to the hospital and then we were in a very creaky lift and I was a bit scared because I felt dizzy in it. Mum was on her own in the hospital room and we were both very happy to see each other. Olek, like me and Zofijka, was born through C-section, and she showed me her belly, and I saw the wound and all, it looked horrid, and I remember she had a big needle close to her tummy, I don’t even know what it was for, but, at least then, it looked huge to me and it was all just awful, and I was feeling absolutely, seriously mad at that horrible creature who did that to her, I think good for him that he wasn’t there. I was mad at him for hurting my Mummy, and for taking her away from me. I don’t remember anymore of that, but when me and Olek were kids, we weren’t really like typical siblings – yes we played a bit with each other, and yes we argued like all siblings, especially sisters and brothers do, but I didn’t really like him at all, and I didn’t feel anything positive towards him, I was indifferent to him at best. – And, while I don’t remember those things, my parents recall that I would often come over to him and start to beat him with something, or wouldn’t let him play with me or with my things, or wouldn’t talk to him etc. I was real nasty to him. And we still don’t really have much of a relationship at all, which kinda sucks, and is definitely weird, and we both feel pretty awkward around each other and mostly only talk casually. But I no longer beat him, I’d be afraid to do that as he’s at least 30 cm taller than me. ๐Ÿ˜€ And it’s not that we don’t like each other now, just don’t have a close bond I guess. But while it seems slightly weird, especially given that I have a much more strong bond with Zofijka who is 10 years younger than me, I guess not all siblings have to have a great relationship.

How about you? ๐Ÿ™‚

My most beautiful memory from last year.

A few days ago, there was a nice question at

Pointless Overthinking

: “Which is the most beautiful memory you have from last year?”. So in this post, I’m going to answer it.

From the top of my brain, what I can think of is the feeling when I finished my Polish oral exam last year. Overall, my finals were very difficult for me, not only because finals are always stressful, but also because I had quite a triggering situation happening to me on the first day, so it was all very tense and I can’t think of the exams overall without feeling my brain shuddering. I’m not going to go into details right now, but if you’d like to read about it, you can go

here.

The post is protected so just drop me a line if you’d like the password.

With the Polish oral exam though, it was a little bit different.

I came to the school just as stressed and sick as on all the previous days, mostly because of that scary situation, not the exam itself, although I was a bit jittery about the exam too. At Polish oral finals people usually are asked about obligatory readings. I found most of them rather boring, so only read detailed summaries of most of them, and did some online tests to see how much I know with that, but I was still a little afraid what if I get a very detailed question plus I get stressed and won’t know what to say. I may fail maths, and I did as you probably know, but failing Polish would be a real shame. I rationally don’t think I would, but I was so anxious then all the time that I didn’t think very rationally.

The thing with that being my most beautiful memory is that I had extreme luck that day, and could show all my potential and my possibilities. When I went to the class, one of the committee members very pompously led me to the desk, where I had a Brailler and a ton of paper, ’cause you know they assume you’d have to prepare for the oral exam and write some notes, which in other circumstances I’d probably find very merciful, ’cause I always prefer to write something down before I have to speak and be eloquent. I had to draw a question, and, despite all the anxiety, and how devastated I’d been feeling, at that moment, I felt just a wave of euphoria rushing through my brain. I’d imagine like when you just get to know that you are a billionaire, but not as intense of course. Because, it felt like that question was waiting right there, especially for me! My exam question was something like that, can’t quote exactly – describe the changes that have happened in the Polish language over the years, how has colloquial language evolved, what are some things that have influenced this change. – My notes were really, really, really laconic, it took me maybe a few lines, and a few minutes, definitely less than the time provided, especially that disabled students have that time lengthened (I hated it, it was always only problematic for me). So when I told the committee that I’m ready, they were quite clearly sceptical. But when I started talking, it wasย  a real logorrhea and their scepticism quickly vanished. ๐Ÿ˜€ I really don’t remember most of what I was saying, I know I was saying something about social media, and mentioning my favourite Polish book series “Jeลผycjada” as a literary example, but it had to be much more. So when I got out of there, I was over the moon. Most of the other poor people there got indeed questions about obligatory readings and didn’t seem as happy.I was really relieved and very appreciative and grateful of my stroke of luck, that was far more than I could imagine, my Mum couldn’t believe that. Well I’ve always had my brain set up for all stuff linguistic, so there couldn’t be many easier things they could ask me about.

So when they were announcing the results, not very surprisingly, I got 100% of it. Was even more over the moon, especially that it was that jerky lady (who was earlier insulting me and all that and triggered me as I wrote in that post I linked to) saying that, so she could clearly see it herself, and my Mum was very happy about it. That same woman had to ruin the experience to me, saying to me in a very sweet tone of voice that it’ll be interesting to see what my math results will be like, which immediately activated my Inner Critic Monkey Maggie again, and indeed, later on it did turn out that I failed maths – I knew it could happen so it wasn’t a shock to me and din’t have to hear that woman’s opinion anymore – but still, overall, I felt like it really was a triumph for me. Especially that then I got 100% at English as well. And then another great thing was the euphoria I felt when finally my exams were over, never mind that I was pretty sure I failed that math thing.

So, while it wasn’t exactly beautiful, with all that intense stuff going on, and I wouldn’t like to go through it all again, the thing with the Polish oral itself clearly showed that I’m actually damn lucky sometimes.

I’ve had lots of nice and beautiful memories last year, but that was simply what came to my mind first. ๐Ÿ™‚

Question of the day.

What are you remembering?

My answer:

Recently lots of things have been reminding me about one of my close friends, with whom I am no longer in touch with, and it’s kind of bittersweet I’d say. I am thinking a lot about him recently somehow and it is both very nice and hurts at the same time ’cause I’ve been missing him a lot. Also, I had a bad dream last night, not like a full blown nightmare or sleep paralysis, but just not a pleasant dream, nothing more, and it involved some school stuff. I had to be up very early today, and that fact, of being up so early, and having that bad dream, it together reminded me that oh wow, today a year has passed since my finals. And, ugh, I’m so glad all that havoc is over. Both with the preparations and the finals. Last year was so devastating for me because of that, and then the finals themselves were absolutely scary for me, or rather accompanying events, not the actual finals, I guess that was kind of traumatising, or re-traumatising maybe I should say, I don’t know, that’s what my Mum says too. Grrrr scary! And then my Mum reminded me of that horror again. So glad it’s over and I don’t have to see those people from there anymore. I’m having a good day generally today, but my Monkey Maggie the Inner Critic is very active today and wants to constantly remind me that what happened then was only because of me, and, well, I guess at this point I’m no longer sure of anything. As if I ever was. ๐Ÿ˜€ It’s hard to stay rational when dealing with her really.

What are YOU remembering? ๐Ÿ™‚

Question of the day (11th March).

Did you have any pets growing up?

My answer:

Loads! I was growing up in the countryside so there were always lots of pets and animals overall. As I wrote in the last post, we’ve always had fishes. We lived on the same backyard as my grandparents and aunts with their families, and we always had a dog on the backyard. The first one that I remember was called Ugryลบ (Bite) and he was a rotweiler. Despite his name I remember him being quite nice though he had his own boundaries and demanded respect from everyone. At the same time that we had Ugryลบ, for a short while there were also my uncle’s two dogs, my uncle and his family lived in a town and they didn’t have a place for them so the dogs lived with us. I don’t remember much about them as I was very small when they lived with us, I know that they were called Mona and Lisa and were both very scary and big and wild and horribly noisy, and had to be separated from Ugryลบ and at a distance from people, only my grandma brought them food and no one had contact with them, I wondered why anyone would like such scary dogs. There was an incident when my brother was around them both and Lisa bit him very badly and he has a scar from it. But as I said they were only for a short while with us. Ugryลบ lived for long years but already when I was born he was an old dog so I also don’t remember much of him.

After that we had quite a long break, until my grandma once came back from work with a very small dog. My grandma sells eggs to people so she visits lots of houses and someone just asked her whether she wouldn’t take their dog because they have to move and don’t know what to do with him. I remember we really struggled to name him, until finally grandma came up with Bobik. Bobik was very small, mixed-breed and very energetic and friendly, though a bit mischievous at times. When we lived there, my Mum always seemed to have some strange sort of luck that she found dogs on the streets, and a couple of them stayed with us. One of them was Figa (Fig). She was a big, but very calm and clever dog, though she had a very strong voice and if the situation needed it she would bark really loudly. But other than that she was really calm. She was very authoritative and Bobik always seemed to listen to her. I liked her a lot, because she was so clever. But also she had another quality that I loved in her and that was very useful to me. She liked eating wasps and hornets. When we saw it one summer, we were scared, but she always managed to do it so quickly that they wouldn’t do her any harm and seemed to like it really much. Figa also loved chocolate ice cream.

I don’t know when exactly it was but I guess sometime when we had both Bobik and Figa, my Mum got one of her strange impulses and decided that she would like to have a Caucasian sheep dog. She had a friend who had a breedery or something like that, and she got us such a dog. We called her Masha. I really disliked her. She had very stinky food, and was very noisy, and while overall a very cheerful and hearty and fairly clever dog, she had an awful habit of jumping on people which I hated dearly, and she was just annoying for me. I don’t remember her too well, I don’t even remember what happened to her, I guess we sold her to someone but I’m not perfectly sure. I was at school most of the time then probably and just didn’t think about her much.

We had both Figa and Bobik for a really long time, until they died, and they were both really faithful and likeable dogs.

I guess already when Zofijka was born, again, during a walk, my Mum spotted another stray dog and brought him home. My aunt named him Polar, as in polar fleece, because his fur was so soft. It turned out that Polar was a Polish Tatra sheep dog. He is still there living with my family. He is my most favourite dog of all we’ve had. He can have a fiery temper and always wants to be in charge of things, but he’s also very playful and just good, if you can say so about a dog. He can be very affectionate and I always feel very safe with him. He is a really good guardian and knows who is his people and who is not and is extremely and fiercely protective of his people, he is really scary when you mess up with him. Though he usually doesn’t bark a lot without a need, I remember when I couldn’t sleep, sometimes I felt anxious, or just lonely, and it was so quiet all around at night, and then sometimes out of the blue Polar barked a little, so I knew I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t sleeping hahaha. I regret that Polar can’t have children, or that we couldn’t take him here with us, I’d like to have a dog like him here, all of us would.

At the time we already had Polar, my cousin said he’d like to have his own dog, and he and his mum went to a shelter and he got himself one and called him Rico. I suppose Rico is very traumatised, or something must be a bit wrong with his brain, because he can act very foolishly and unpredictably. he’s small and has very rough fur, a complete opposite to Polar. And he likes to make lots of fuss of himself.

For a short while, at the time we’ve already had Rico and Polar, my Mum got herself a dog of one of her favourite breeds – a Munich schnauzer. We had a real trouble naming him and there were lots of suggestions, though she finally called him Bono, after Bono from U2, she loves this band. Bono wasn’t long with us and I almost don’t remember him. Mum had to sell him because our family weren’t happy with him, you know when there are so many people living together, it’s hard to make everyone happy.

We also had tons of cats on the backyard, most were unnamed, though for years we had a female cat whom I named Misia, who greatly contributed to increasing our local feline population. Most of them all were of course wild and not really up to making friends with humans. There was one sweet little kitten I deeply loved as a little child, he was very cute and small and lovable and gentle, completely not like other cats out there. I named him Parpill, in reference to my imaginary creatures. Me and my brother were carrying him in a stroller around the backyard and playing that he was our baby. ๐Ÿ˜€ Until when I was at school, one of our local drunkards ran him over, driving under the influence. I was hating him silently for years hahaha, no seriously I really hated him. Another cat that I tried to make friends with I called Pimpuล› (there is a popular old Polish children’s book with a cat named Pimpuล› in it, and I also had a teddy bear named Pimpuล›). Pimpuล› was really wild though and a little malicious, or so seemed to me back then.

And then again, when Zofijka was already born, so I was maybe 11-12 or something like that, my grandma came back from work with a cat. Her client said they need to give him away because her daughter, his actual owner, was pregnant. So, to Dad’s absolute dismay, Mum took him home. He didn’t have a name, he was just the cat, until when Zofijka was big enough, she started calling him Kiki. She was showing him her adoration in really strange ways – like dancing around the kitchen holding him by the neck. – Surprisingly, despite all the suffocating love from Zofijka, care and food from Mum, Kiki’s favourite person was Dad. At night, he would always lay on his legs, and follow him everywhere around the house. Kiki, like Misha, was rather withdrawn, though didn’t have the adventurous side to his nature like Misha, he was always afraid of the outdoors and never willing to come out. He was also a bit more affectionate and loyal than Misha, in a way that for Kiki it was more obvious. I liked Kiki, though wasn’t too attached to him and don’t remember him too well because I was mostly at the boarding school I think. I’ve always felt a bit guilty thinking of Kiki. When Kiki was with us and I was home for the Christmas break, I remember that when it was finishing, I really didn’t want to go back to school and was very determined not to go. Not like I wanted it any other time, but with each time I just grew more and more sick of it. I looked up lots of ideas on the Internet how to get ill on purpose so that I wouldn’t have to go, and I made a very precise plan what to do. I waited in my room until everyone will go to bed, Kiki was in my room, and then when finally everyone seemed to be asleep, I sneaked out on the terrace barefoot just in my pj’s. There was a lot of snow and I was walking around in it and wallowing in it for quite a long while until I got all freezing, and then got back home, closing the terrace door behind me, and did the rest of my plan. Mum woke me up early next day as we had to travel to the school, I wasn’t feeling sick at all, other than of anxiety. And the first thing Mum told me was that something utterly unbelievable happened. She went to the kitchen, and saw the cat on the terrace, glued to the glass and waiting for someone to rescue him. Of course the loyal Kiki had to follow me, though I didn’t have a clue about it, and closed him there. I felt awful about that but didn’t say anything, so it stayed as an odd anecdote in our family and Mum always told it to people. I only revealed the secret on my 18th birthday party, when I was out of school and Kiki wasn’t with us any longer, and that was quite a shock to everyone. My Mum got rid of Kiki very spontaneously. She is quite pedantic, and although Kiki was really clean as I remember him, Mum claimed she had way too much cleaning with him. But she wanted to get rid of him in a nice looking way, so decided to be generous and give him to my aunt who has MS so that she’d have company during the day when her family are out at work. Kiki had a good life there as far as I know, and was thoroughly spoiled by my aunt and uncle, got to eat lots of sausage and had become really fat. But then my cousin, who was mainly taking care of him, became pregnant, and they had to give him away. My Mum found him a new home in Warsaw, so he had to travel a fair bit of the country, though I don’t know anything about him now, he’s probably very old if still alive. I wish we kept him for longer, so maybe I would form some real relationship with him and be able to compensate for closing him on the terrace, but then we most probably wouldn’t have Misha, which would be even more sad.

And, as a little girl, maybe 8- or 9-year-old, I was reading articles about different pets and how to care for them in children’s magazines. I generally wasn’t the type of child who would be crazily into animals and always dreaming about a pet but suddenly I got some sort of obsession with pets, and for like a month or so I was constantly tormenting Mum, begging her to buy me a hamster or a guinnea pig. At that time I was really trying to fit in and be like other kids and even had a sort of friend in the neighbourhood, and one day in summer our mums and us were going shopping. And my friend’s mum heard how much I would like to have a hamster or a guinnea pig and was the only person who showed me compassion and understood how badly I wanted a pet and said that their friend’s daughter has a hamster and they have to give it away for some reason so she’ll ask that woman if she could bring it to me. I could see that my Mum was very unsatisfied and annoyed with it and tried to explain to my friend’s mum that it’s not really the best idea, but her point of view was just like mine: “Oh but if she wants a hamster, why not? It’s not a problematic animal”. I guess her friend desperately wanted to get rid of her hamster, and she really wanted to help her. ๐Ÿ˜€ I was over the moon. So, very soon, just the next day, my friend and the other girl – the hamster’s owner – came to me and I got my hamster with the cage. I called him Bingo, and thought it was a boy, though apparently it was a girl. It was a very weird hamster and acted as if he/she was wild, not at all like the hamsters I read about, and not very playful or likeable. Once he even bit me. So my feelings for him were slowly dissipating, and my Mum really disliked him. When I went back to school after the summer holidays, Olek offered to take care of him and become his temporary owner, but when I came back home, Bingo was long dead. I don’t really remember how it happened. But Olek was taking care of him and then made a very neat grave for him in grandma’s garden. I was actually relieved that there was no Bingo, he was really weird.

And one year I tried having snails as pets, and kept them in a tin filled with salad. That was very short-lasting though.

How about you? ๐Ÿ™‚

Question of the day.

Have you had any memorable experiences with interesting or extreme weather conditions?

My answer:

As I think about it, nothing significant comes to my mind actually, though I’ve been told by my parents that when I was born, there was a power outage for about a week. We were living in the countryside, and at the time there was something going on with electricity over and over again, though nothing like natural disasters wasn’t involved, it just was such a period I guess and probably some major tech issues. So anyway, it took place at the time when I was born, and my Dad used to joke that that’s why I am blind, that I just got used to the darkness, so now I can’t see hahaha.

How about your experiences? ๐Ÿ™‚

Carnival.

Anyone else here hates carnival?

Well anyway, I do. Or used to do, now I don’t have to bother. But yeah I hated it. Oh but how can anyone hate carnival, especially in such country as Poland? It’s such a colourful tradition! Well, maybe I don’t hate carnival in general, there are or used to be some pretty interesting traditions over here relating to it and I always like to read about traditions be them ours or someone else’s, I’m just overall into folklore as you know.

But in my own experience, carnivals had always been yuck. We always had so many parties and balls and proms and discos and dancings or however to call them. We had usuallly one such event at school, one at the girls’ boarding school and one at the boys’ and sometimes also one at the cafe which also was in that centre.

If I’m totally honest, I don’t know exactly what I hated so much about them. Yes it was socially engaging and so challenging for me, but there were way more challenging situations there for me. Dancing is not my element definitely, but I’m not the worst at it and I do dance if I have to when we have some family parties or stuff.It wasn’t that I was left alone and didn’t haveto dance with, if I wanted I’d surely find someone, therewas a time when I was the only girlin the class and my classmates rather liked me as a friend and I did like them.

I guess that just the general atmosphere overwhelmed me. All that crowd and noise, so that even if you came there with someone there were 99% chances you will lose each other in the crowd even if you’re not dancing. And I always hate that feeling of being lonely in the crowd, way more than just being lonely, even if I talk to someone I often feel this way among very many people. And it’s awful.

So I always tried to do everything to avoid those parties. Theoretically, it wasn’t something compulsory to go there, but it wasn’t well seen for someone to stay on their own in the group while everyone else is out, you know, safety and all. And no one actually wanted to avoid them as far as I know, other than me, so it was seen as odd if you did, and you could be more or less pressured to go anyway. At that time I wasn’t assertive enough to just say no, I still am not sure if I would say if it happened to me now, knowing how pressured I’d be anyway, so I rather preferred to find some excuses, which worked sometimes, most often not very creaive stuff like period. When I was very young, I took an advantage of the fuss when they were going out and hid in the shower lol. I was desperate to not go with them, and then I got out when they all went out. As I supposed, no one even noticed I didn’t go, neither the staff, nor any of my group mates. ๐Ÿ˜€

One year though I did something particular. We got to know there will be two parties, one at school and one at the cafe, as it was Saturday. It was also my birthday, and I got mad. Why do I have to go to some yucky trashy dancing parties on my birthday if I hate it? Why can’t I do something better? And I was determined to not go, and instead, do something very nice. Well, not going could be potentially possible if I tried, but the latter was quite a brave goal in such a place where you can’t decide much about yourself. But I did it.

Luckily for me, at that time I had a kind of English teacher, well she wasn’t my real English teacher, she was my aunt’s acquaintance and lived in the city nearby my school, and my Mum and aunt introduced us to each other and my aunt had an idea that she – her acquaintance – would come to me while I was at the boarding school, say once a week, so that I could go out of that environment for a while and talk to someone from the outside, normal world and just have fun. We made an excuse that she’ll be teaching me some extra English, and the staff agreed. We didn’t cheat on them, if you’re worried, she did teach me English, but the primary goal was for me to just get out of there and do whatever we liked. We both liked English, so we often did English.

I called my Mum to ask her if she could send me some money, we had them stored by the staff but if our parents wanted they could send some to us too. Luckily they came on time. So I called my aunt’s acquaintance, let’s call her K. and I asked her if she’s free next Saturday because I’d like to invite her to some restaurant in the city for a dinner because it’s my birthday. She said she is and that it is cool, so I told her about those deeper reasons for that so we scheduled our meeting so that I’d be out during both parties. My Mum obviously agreed so the staff couldn’t do anything but agree too.

We went to the Moroccan restaurant and, guys, I guess there was the best food I’ve ever eaten so far. Although it’s possible that my happiness spiced it up even more because I couldn’t believe my luck and that it worked out. ๐Ÿ˜€ Anyway, it was one of more happy days I spent there. Or not there actually, as I wasn’t at school practically. ๐Ÿ˜€ I hate that city but if I’m gonna be there ever again I’ll surely go to that restaurant again. We had so much fun and we also did other things, but, funnily enough, I don’t remember anything more from that day now, even though it was long and intense. ๐Ÿ˜€ I only remember I came back to the boarding school with a huge Toffifee, I don’t remember if I bought it or she got it for me, anyway I was sharing it with my roommates at night.

Sometimes I tried to get someone from my family at that time so we could spend time together and I remember one quite hilarious costume party on which my aunt came to me, she’s crazy and very funny so we, and others, had a lot of laugh.

But other than that, I always hated those parties and still when we have some family parties with dancing or in huge locals, my brain turns upside down. Dunno, maybe I’m just boring, but if not being boring =liking dancing parties, no thanks, I’d rather stay boring, it’s way more interesting. ๐Ÿ˜€

How about you? Do you like dancing? ๐Ÿ™‚ Have you been to many huge parties with dancing? Do you like carnival?

Remembering… or how to tell your brain it’s over?

I’m remembering

a lot of stuff from the past lately. Lots and lots of memories which I try to ignore, and sometimes I succeed, sometimes not. So I thought maybe writing about it would help, if ignoring doesn’t work out too well. Those memories are mostly related to the beginning of the school year, which used to be an absolute nightmare for over a decade.

I see people from my family and others buying their kids things for school, I hear my Mum talking how she’s afraid of the next schol year for Zofijka, I notice time flying so quickly and September approaching, and each time I see any signs of the school year coming, I have to remind my brain, it’s not you now, it’s over. But it doesn’t listen for too long, and soon I get overflooded by another wave of memories.

I remember all those days and nights before I”d go back to the boarding school when I cut myself ’cause my pain and helplessness were too bad. I remember not being able to eat and sleep because of the anxiety. I remember the feelings of utter loneliness and not belonging anywhere, along with many other overwhelming feelings with which I couldn’t cope, but finally I always had to cope somehow, so I just bottled them up, feeling them rising inside of me with every second. I remember feeling very unsafe and rebelled that I had to leave everything that felt nice, familiar, everything and everyone that I loved, and how desperate I was to not do it. I felt guilty and weak because even though the situation was the same and obvious for so many years, that there was no alternative for me, I still couldn’t adjust to it. Well in a way I did, but the adjustment was only hiding what I felt so it wouldn’t bother anyone else, because well how long can it take you to accept something so obvious and inevitable that if you have special needs and need special education, you need to go to school where they can adjust things to you, and there aren’t many of such so most children have to be away from their families. For me that was an issue, and it looked like it was wrong.

Those feelings always accompanied me when I had to leave home and go to the boarding school, but when the school year was starting, they were particularly intense. Because the school year always meant changes. Changes that could often regard me more or less, but even if they were directly to do with me, it wasn’t a norm that I, or even any of my parents, were asked about our opinion, whether we agree on them or not, whether they’re acceptable. That was normal there. If you had a friend, who was also your roommate, with whom you lived for years, you got to know very well, you should be aware that when you come back to school next year, you may suddenly be informed that you two will no longer live together because… just because. And you could not only be moved to another room, but also to a completely different group. THis exact situation didn’t happen to me, only because I didn’t have real friends there, but it did to one of my classmates and she was just told to get over it, because it was necessary and such situations happen in life so she has to get used to it. I though changed my roommates very often too, and it was often very tough. And many other changes could await you there, hardly, if ever, nice.

So yeah, I was just sick of anxiety every year before the start of school year, and afterwards too.

But it’s now four years since I got out of there, and I am so happy about it, yet each time it’s close to September, my brain goes mad. Even this year, when I’m completely free of that freaky brain washing machine called education system. I even had a pretty yucky dream last night, I haven’t have this kind of memory dreams in a while, but that one was yucky and it took me quite a while to get back to the present after I woke up. Those dreams aren’t particularly scary, like creepy or something, but are just kinda made of my crappy memories so reliving them over and over definitely isn’t nice aND I wake up feeling nausious and stressed out.

As I wrote earlier today in Music Monday Care & Love post, I am trying to fill this week with various self care activities and other enjoyable things, and that helps me to stay in the present and focus on the positive, and there is much positive stuff going on in my life. Plus it helps me to not slip down again to that self-loathing hole, which is always very easy when I’m having memories. But it doesn’t stop my brain from going back to the past, often at least expected moments.

So I wonder, how do you make your brain know it’s over? It seems all so complicated.

 

Fflur Dafydd – Rachel Myra.

Hi guys! ๐Ÿ™‚

yesterday’s song was perfectly matched with the time and the weather we have here, but today’s one is more wintery, though I don’t think it should matter that much.

It’s a beautiful song written and composed by Fflur Dafydd in Welsh. Fflur Dafydd is a very versatile artist, she’s not only a singer/songwriter, but she has also written a few books, and I guess also some poems.

She wrote this song for her grandmother – Rachel Myra. By the way, I think Rachel Myra is a very interesting and vintage name combo. There is a line in this song “Rachel Myra, Ei henw’n gynnes yn y gaeaf” (Rachel Myra, your name so warm in the winter) and it kinda speaks to me because this name sounds so homely (I mean homely homey, comfy perhaps), kinda warm, like I usually have different sensory associations with words and names too and when I first saw the title of this song I thought that it smells like ginger, or like ginger tea with lemon and honey or something… so I was a bit shocked when I finally was good enough at Welsh to roughly figure out that this song has quite a wintery feel and then that there is this verse in it. ๐Ÿ˜€ That’s another reason to my theory that names do have some universal code, or something like this. Rachel itself, or Myra on its own, don’t give such a strong feel, althugh they’re also warm names on their own.

I really like this song, it’s melody is beautiful and it’s beautiful overall.

The translation that is in the video was apparently by Fflur Dafydd herself.

Share Your World – March 19, 2018.

What is your earliest memory?

Many people with whom I’ve shared this memory say it’s impossible to have such early memories, as I was 2 years old then, but anyway I remember it and it is too vivid and subjective to be just something I remember from what others told me, in my opinion, also when I talked to my parents about it they told me they never knew that I perceived that situation this way.

This memory is about my brother’s birth, or rather a bit afterwards. I only remember that me and Dad went to Mum to the hospital, after he was born. I remember being in the lift for the first time and being a little bit afraid, I was often afraid of such kind of motion, something moving up and down, because of my balance issues. Then we came in to the room where Mum lied, she was rather weak and didn’t talk much as she probably still was under the influence of anesthetics (we were all born through caesaeran section). She let me touch her tummy and the impresson of this moment has stayed with me for very long. I felt her stitches and it somehow moved me very deeply. I know I felt like it is my brother’s fault and it has to be very painful for Mum. I told them he had to be terrible if she now looks like this and my Dad was laughing he surely is an absolute monster. Then I remember us leaving and being n the lift again and going out of the hospital and nothing more about it. But I’ve often thought this situation had to have some significant influence on me. My parents told me, and I remember some bits and pieces myself, that I was often pretty rude for Olek, yelling at him or punching him all of the sudden and not letting him touch me, although it wasn’t a long period of time, but I guess we never had a proper/normal sibling relationship, mainly because of our limited contact as I spent most of my childhood away from home.

Which way does the toilet paper roll go? Over or under?

Over.

What makes you feel grounded?

Having my feet on the ground, warmth, but not heat, touching Misha and his purr, soft, relaxing music, deep breathing, and for some reason which I don’t really get – the scent and taste of mint.

What did you appreciate or what made you smile this past week? ย Feel free to use a quote, a photo, a story, or even a combination.

Misha

, progress in my languages, blogging, strengthening relationship with my Mum. I was doing a lot of self care stuff this week, much more than usual. On Monday I had a very nice morning. Dad needed to do something in the port, he delivers fuel, often to ports, and has other things to do there related to his work as well. He offered my Mum to go with him and as she agreed, I decided to go with them too. While Dad was in the port, we were at the Sea

and it was very nice and beautiful and we had a great time together, we also spent a lot of time together after we got back home. Yesterday we all were in a restaurant and had a big dinner, very yummy. It was anxiety provoking, it is always very anxiety provoking for me to go out and there was a lot of people, I also find it rather stressful to eat among many people, but despite all that anxiety it was very nice, I can’t remember when was the last time before yesterday that I was in a restaurant. ๐Ÿ˜€ I guess more than a year ago. and although overall my week was rather uneventful, it was mostly good.

This challenge is hosted by Cee

. Thanks so much. ๐Ÿ™‚

 

Question of the day.

If you could know the absolute and total truth to one question, what question would you ask?

My answer:

First thought I had – is there really any afterlife after we die? This may seem strange since I’m a practicing Christian so should be sure that there is, and I believe in it, but I suppose everyone of us, no matter what we believe in or if we don’t believe in the existence of any God, ask it sometimes, ’cause many of us would like to be sure. Is it all true or is it just a bullshit and we will just die and nothing will happen afterwards? That’s interesting. DO you guys ask yourselves this question sometimes too? But then I had another thought and I think I would prefer to get answer for this one, as I wonder really often about that and sometimes get quite frustrated about it:

Why actually was it so hard for me to go through that long period of time when I was at the boarding school? Or maybe not why it was so hard, but why did it affect me, my emotions and my mental health so much? Why I felt like it was so challenging if I wasn’t abused there, besides one year when I was emotionally abused by some of the staff, but then it finished. Why did I have such big issues with adapting there and why was it so overwhelming in so many different ways, for so many different reasons? Did other kids feel it too, but they were such great actors that I didn’t notice anything? They had to be really great, because I think I’m pretty good at “feeling” other people and I always thought they are happy there, well as happy as kids may be when they aren’t with their families. I know only one girl who I know that reacted to being there like me and ended up with generaised anxiety. Luckily she was much younger than me when people started to see what’s going on and it was my Mum who told her mum that she should take her home. Her issues looked very familiar for me. Is it the matter of high sensitivity? Coincidence of too many hard things put together? Emotional weakness? My Mum thinks so, but then why do a few other people said they think I’m strong? Is actually such thing like emotional strength a thing that can be objectively measured? Or maybe I was already freaky when I got there? Would I struggle less nowadays with my mental health if I wouldn’t go there? Or maybe I wouldn’t struggle at all? Why I am so afraid of processing my emotions and reacting so weirdly, emotionally and physically, to different, apparently normal stuff that all the other people are indifferent about and don’t think much about?

Well it is certainly more than one question. ๐Ÿ˜€ But it’s all swirling around one thing, so I look at it as one, big question. It all really makes me wonder.

What would be your questions. ๐Ÿ™‚

Present.

It’s often hard for me to live in the present

.I’ve always had a tendency to either worry to much about the future, or delve in the past, analysing all the awful stuff that happened to me or idealising my good memories, or when my future seemed absolutely hopeless to me, to escape into daydreams where everything looked colourful and I could entertain myself with millions of beautiful scenarios of my life and the reality around me.

I noticed it at some point a few years ago, while talking with my Mum about something good that happened to me in the past and I was all like “oh it was so good back then” and Mum finally told me something that really amazed me and gave me a lot to think about. She said she thinks I think about the past or the future so much that I don’t live the present and can’t appreciate it, and so my own life flies past beside me, without me taking actually part in it. And although it sounded harsh and brutal for me back then and I immediately said it’s not true, it stayed with me and I thought about it a lot.

Finally I realised it’s true. I realised that when those things I liked so much about the past, when all those nice moments were happening, I didn’t think much about them, didn’t think they are nice because my mind was focused on so many other things, negative and stressful things, so I didn’t really live that moment, only in my memories afterwards. I know now that there is even the word for it in the Welsh language, which can’t be translated directly to English, it is “hiraeth” and it means longing for things, or particularly places, that don’t really exist, because you idealised them in your mind. Like your motherland for example, when you’re an emigrant. Some time passed away, so it could change, and your mind deludes you that it was better than it ever was because, the grass is always greener… obviously. Hiraeth may also refer to the longing for something you don’t know, so you know you feel the longing or yearning and it’s very strong, but you don’t know what’s it all about so it’s a bit frustrating. Oh but I shouldn’t talk about the hiraeth now!

So I realised I was experiencing that what now I know as hiraeth and decided to change it. I thought it is a total and pointless waste of energy and of time to do what I did.

I started to try to see all the positive things around me and, pretty quickly actually, it wasn’t already so hard for me to notice different small things in life that could be enjoyable. I still am a pessimist, but not of that kind that don’t see any positives at all. My pessimism, as I wrote sometime before, is more of a defensive nature. And it doesn’t stop me from being positive and grateful for all the good things in life. I am very often depressed, but, unless it hits me really hard for some time, usually I’m not anhedonic, so, I still have my passions, things I like to do, and they usually help me. Also I cope better with not so distant future. Like, let’s say about three years ago, if I would have a nice weekend and could do lots of things I like, everything would be great, I wouldn’t focus on the weekend, but would likely freak out about all the stressful things that wait for me on Monday. Now I rarely experience it to an extent that really disturbs me a lot. If I have something stressing ahead, it’s still in the back of my mind, but if I’m doing something better right now, I surely won’t focus on that stressful thing. Why should I do it?

I think it is now easier to appreciate the life and all about it more, because the present is just easier for me than the past was. Just the fact that I wasn’t seriously suicidal in years now means I’m now in much better place than I was back then.

Unfortunately, I’m still worrying, sometimes almost obsessively, about the more distant future, it’s very hard to control it, especially in times like these, when I’m finishing one of the stages in my life and aren’t quite sure what to do next. I am still daydreaming, and, especially at night, different crappy memories like to remind me about their existence. I’m still trying to unlearn it. But at least I haven’t that feeling, that my life is going beside me, and I am stuck in the past or in the future and don’t take any advantage of it.

Do you also feel sometimes like you’re not living the present?