How I think other people would describe me.

I thought I’d do some journaling prompt-based post, and I chose the following prompt from Hannah Braime’s The Year Of You:

How do you think other people would describe you if asked?

Before I get into the actual topic, I’d like to brag about the fact that last week I got my MacBook Air, and that’s what I’m writing to you from currently, and this is my first post from it. I wrote in one of the recent coffee shares that I’d been thinking about getting one, but planned it for some more or less distant future. Well, to keep it short, let’s just say that all sorts of different circumstances contributed to me making the purchase a lot earlier than I thought. Now, in the space of… wait a minute, how long have I had my iPhone for?… not even two years… so, in the space of less than two years I’ve acquired a total of THREE Apple products!… :O Me! πŸ˜€ Who would have thought… But, as you can surely imagine, I’m still learning and still mostly relying on my Windows computer. I’m not rushing with it really. A lot of things in the Mac world still feel super weird or totally mysterious to me. I don’t know what the end result will be and I also have to take into account the possibility that I end up not getting used to it quite as well as I hope I will and will not be able to rely on it as my primary computer, I know a handful of blind people for whom it hasn’t really worked out that well, and that was the main reason why I originally planned to wait with the purchase. But I’m going to give myself even as much as half a year to see how I get into it. I’ll let you know if I can finish this post successfully from here or if I’ll switch to Windows midway. Now, let’s get to the oh so self-centred topic of this post.

I wrote on the same prompt in my personal diary a couple months ago and said there that I think it’s quite interesting that it seems that various people would probably describe me in ways that would differ from each other quite a lot. I know (well, at least to some degree) what the reasons behind that are, but I can’t help wondering if part of it could perhaps be due to me being somehow two-faced or just not genuine at all. I think it’s really hard to say as there are many aspects involved in this. Before I thought about Β writing a post on this, I decided to actually talk to my Mum about it, mostly because, despite she is one of the people I’m closest with, if not *the* closest to me, I had trouble thinking of the things she could say to describe me, so I thought I’d simply ask her about it and, quite as I expected, received a full report in response that didn’t include only my Mum’s own view of me but also she mentioned that she thought I would probably get a different description of myself depending on whom I’d ask. πŸ˜€

Mostly though, I think someone who doesn’t know me very well would usually describe me as shy, quiet (I absolutely hate when someone calls me “quiet”, you should spend a freaking minute in my brain if you think I am πŸ˜€ ). Many of those people seem to think I’m not particularly smart and rather plain and uninteresting and don’t really have an idea about much of anything because I don’t have a lot to say, or that I’m very apathetic because I don’t seem to react to anything very much and don’t seem to have any deeper feelings. When I sometimes do spontaneously and usually more or less accidentally reveal something about myself to them that they don’t know, or if someone else does, they’re usually quite shocked.

Then there are also people who don’t know me well who think I am very outgoing, talkative, eloquent, smart and humourous, ‘Ive even heard Β stuff like charismatic. That’s usually when such an individual met me one-on-one which situation I often find easier to interact with people in, plus probably in a setting that I was comfortable with, like, dunno, talking about Misha, and when I’m generally doing quite well socially, which sometimes seems to be rather random I guess. We’ve had quite a handful of such situations where I’d talk with someone and then later they’d be raving about me to someone in my family how delightfully outgoing I am and my family would be like: “What?!” πŸ˜€ Or such person would then see me in a different situation, where there are perhaps more people or which is more challenging socially for me for some reason, and they’d see the version of me that I mentioned earlier, and they’d be like: “Ohhh, what’s wrong with Bibiel?” Unfortunately I can’t always control that. Like, as some of you might remember, I had an autism evaluation some three years ago. That was the second one I had in my life, because I had one earlier at school as a kid, but back then the circumstances were rather yucky, I wasn’t really informed about things properly and I really didn’t want having that diagnosis so I did all I could to avoid being classified as autistic, whereas that second time I was open to it being a possibility and thought that if it was indeed the case, having a diagnosis could help me a bit, if only with explaining some things to people, and my Mum was pretty much sure that I actually must be autistic. Except when I came to that evaluating place, my “delightfully outgoing” persona kicked in, despite I was actually feeling terribly anxious, and they decided that I am most definitely not autistic at all. πŸ˜€ While I decided to keep it that way, because I figured they’re the experts so they should know, after all, if I really had it, they should be able to tell it anyway I guess, and I wouldn’t want to go through yet another evaluation, we sometimes wonder if they’d say the same thing if they could see me in some real life situations.

Then there are peeps who simply think I am an icy, indifferent person, and I guess they tend to get the impression Β I’m very nerdy or something., or that’s what I’ve been told When I was a teen I’ve heard that some people are intimidated by my iciness/unfeeling-ness, which idea I actually liked, haha, though that totally wasn’t the reason why I acted this way. I now try to do that less, more for my own sake than other people’s, but around people I feel very insecure around it is really difficult not to, after getting my brain used to handling situations this way.

But let’s talk about people who actually know me somewhat more, that is my family.

My Dad, I’m actually very curious how he would describe me if someone asked him, but I wouldn’t ask him that myself as he’s not the type of person my Mum is and would surely find something like this difficult and pressuring rather than fun. But I think he would say something like that I’m funny, know a lot of weird things, like where random people’s surnames might come from (for some reason he often asks me that sort of thing like when he hears some weird surname on the TV he’ll ask me where it comes from, and I will often not know because I feel a lot more competent when it comes to given names’ etymology rather than surnames, Β but sometimes I do know or can at least try to guess something and he finds that interesting and always wants to know how I know that sort of thing). He’d probably also say that I’m weird, but not because I am actually weird, rather because there’s a lot of things that my Dad considers weird or downright crazy. For example, extensive use of one’s imagination without an actual need for it like creating something practically useful, or talking to yourself (that’s mental, after all), or talking to a cat as if he were a human, or saying that you’re “reading” a book, even though you’re listening to it. Actually, his phrase for this kind of weirdness is that someone “has films”, which is odd, because in real Polish language “to have films” means to have hallucinations, after drugs usually, but for my Dad it means to have weird, unreasonable behaviours. My Mum constantly “has films” too. Because my Dad is the kind of person for whom something is usually only real when it’s visible, he would also probably say something like that I lead a VERY BORING life, because I have no real, important job, and the one that I do have is only because he graciously agreed to provide it for me despite it wasn’t necessary for him. Furthermore, I never go out, except in absolutely essential situations, I have no real life friends and spend most of my time doing things that he considers meaningless and mundane, like writing some freaking blog posts, when he doesn’t even know wth exactly a blog post is, and I’m not even making any money on it like all them influencers that Sofi follows do online. He thinks the same about my Mum’s life, though of course for different reasons, but he fails to recognise that what makes our lives truly fascinating for ourselves is our inner lives. He’d likely also say that I’m a good listener, because I try to be that for him, even though he’s one of the more difficult people to listen to for longer periods of time, because he finds it hard to put his thoughts into words. But I’ve always got a feeling that there are a lot of things that he’d like to talk about to someone, particularly about his past, to share his memories and stuff like that, but in our family no one seems very interested in that. Neither do I find it extremely interesting, but I believe everyone should have an opportunity to share such things if they feel such a need, so I do try to show a genuine interest in what he has to say, most of the time anyway, and I’ve spent countless hours listening to the stories of his rather colourless, childhood and teenage years, his time in the army (which I actually think must have been rather traumatising for him) and the times when he worked at waterworks (or at least I hope that’s the English word, I don’t have a handy translator app on here yet as I do on the PC), which he now looks back at very fondly and probably idealises that time a whole lot simply because it happened when he was young, and he now has a much better life situation, at least from an outsider perspective.

Like I said, I had a problem coming up what my Mum would say, so I asked her, and she said that I am “of above average intelligence”, which I could actually have predicted because that’s what she always says, even though I’ve never had any kind of IQ test done (it seems to be quite tricky with blind people). She said that it’s very interesting to talk to me because I seem to know something about almost everything and have a lot of interesting ideas. We both do, actually. We could start a business selling our ideas to people, lol. She thinks I have a very extensive vocabulary and am a good storyteller, which actually surprised me because while I certainly do have a large vocabulary and can go on and on and on about things I really love,I Β never thought I was actually a good storyteller when speaking. She also said that I am a good listener and have a good sense of humor and that she doesn’t understand why I don’t reveal these qualities of mine to people more and wondered if it is because I feel superior towards people. I really don’t understand it when people interpret things this way, when someone is introverted/shy/socially phobic/whatever else similar people will instantly assume that you must consider yourself superior. It used to really distress me because it just couldn’t be further from the truth. She thinks I could achieve a lot in life, but to do that I’d have to do people, and I can’t do people so my chances are greatly diminished. I Donn’t really know if that’s true, that I could achieve something big sometimes I think so too, other times absolutely not, but regardless, I think it’s the case with a lot of people who could otherwise achieve a lot of great things in their lives if not something that is getting in the way because the world doesn’t work like they do. As for myself, I don’t even know what so great that could be that I could achieve, people or no people, which probably complicates things even more. And let’s not forget that I also cannot do math. πŸ˜€ She also thinks that I’m difficult to get along with, which is absolutely true, and that I am a hopeless case of a pessimist, which, imho, is not. I certainly am a pessimist and one who is very proud of it because positivity is awfully overrated, but my pessimism is not hopeless, it’s just defensive. I don’t like the kind of pessimism that makes people grumpy and always discontented with everything. I do my best to enjoy life and all that it gives me, while being a pessimist at the same time. It’s like, optimists see the glass half full, pessimists see it half empty, and Bibiels expect to be dealt an empty glass, and then when they get half a glass, Bibiels go “Yayyyy! There’s actually water in it!” πŸ˜€

I don’t really know what Olek would say about me because as it is, we hardly talk. Sometimes though, when we’re the only people who happen to eat dinner at the same time or something like that, he’ll talk to me about stuff that’s going on for him and, unlike with my Dad, I am genuinely interested and don’t have to make it seem so, so I do hope he considers me a good listener. I often think that he must think I’m extremely weird and that he generally doesn’t really like me but I have no actual evidence for that. He seems to think that I’m something like a grammar guru because he often asks me if something’s grammatically correct or something like that. And I’m pretty sure he also likes my sense of humour.

Sofi thinks I’m different than most of my peers, that I’m crazy, in a positive way, because we do a lot of crazy stuff together, that I often make her laugh, that I’m kind of childish, that I’m medieval because I’d rather people send me things via email than Snapchat (I don’t even have such a thing as Snapchat in case you’re wondering), and because I listen to “ancient” music and don’t know what her slangy words mean unless they’re from English, but even then I sometimes don’t because kids here sometimes use English words differently than what they actually mean in English. She also thinks that I should get some treatment because of the amount of languages I want to learn, but I’m not sure if she’d mention that if she had to describe me.

My poor, Fillyjonk grandma would probably say that I’m a poor, blind girl… and I’m not really sure what else she’d say, and if she would be able to specify why exactly I am poor, but that’s the adjective she often uses in reference to me. Perhaps she’d also say that I used to sing as a little child, but now I no longer do at all, because that’s where she seems to be stuck at a lot of the time. My grandma is a perfectly clear-minded, educated woman, but she just can’t seems to get past some ideas she has about me and I find any communication with her extremely difficult for that reason so I can’t even challenge that somehow. My Mum tried too, because for her it’s more of a problem than for me. Then again, I myself am not hugely motivated to change her view, it’s not like I live with her and like what she thinks matters hugely.

My grandad would probably say that, well, I’m an X-ray, that’s how he often jokingly calls me because he thinks I have a good people instinct. He often says that I am “like him” so he’d probably say that too. He’d more than likely say that I am smart, because this is something he values in people. He wouldn’t say one even slightly negative thing about me because he never does, I don’t think he’d say anything critical to me or about me even if I decided I want to kill someone, so it’s great that he’s my grandad, rather than my father and that it wasn’t him who brought me up. Other than that, I don’t really know. I have a really strong bond with him and he has always stood by me even when no one else has, and we understand each other really well, but actually a lot of time we’ve spent together has been mostly in silence, because we seem to get along best this way, so I don’t really know what he’d say.

And my gran would probably say something like that I am not like all the other blind people she’s heard of because I don’t travel by bus on my own and don’t do music.

So yeah, I think that’s it. In case you’re curious, yes I’m still on the Mac, yay for me! That’s the power of defensive pessimism for you: I thought I’d maybe do two paragraphs and then get frustrated and won’t know how to do something and switch to the PC, that it’ll be good if I’ll even manage to find my way on the rather chaotic WordPress website with the weird VoiceOver navigation so that I can at least Β start writing, but I’ve made it with barely any problems at all.

Okay, now over to you: how do you think people would describe you?? Be it people from your family or any other people? Is it consistent with how you see yourself? πŸ™‚

Question of the day.

What is your earliest childhood memory?

My answer:

My earliest memory is from when I was two years old, which some people find strange or impossible, claiming that you can only have real memories from the age of 3, but I believe that when they’re strong and emotionally intense memories, you can remember things that happened earlier, plus I guess everyone is a bit different and it must depend a lot on an individual. Anyway, my earliest memory is about when Olek was born. My Dad and me went to visit Mum in the hospital, and the first thing I remember from that was when we were in the lift and I was a little bit scared of the sensation of it moving. I still avoid lifts if only it’s possible and reasonable, even escalators, because they make me feel dizzy and floaty in an awful way and mess with my vestibular system though I’m pretty sure it was a lot worse when I was younger. Then we went to the room where my Mum was and I remember that she was really weak or something and kind of wasn’t herself really, actually at the time I think I thought she was really sleepy. My Mum had a C-section so she certainly could still be groggy after that. Olek wasn’t in there. Mum let me feel her tummy and I remember it really shocked me and made me feel quite awful. I don’t really remember or know now what exactly was going on with her, was it her stitches that she showed me and my brain exaggerated that, or something else, but I quite clearly remember a HUGE needle sticking out of her tummy and the thing overall looked quite raw and not quite like what I expected I think. And I got ann idea into my head, quite a logical one for a kid I guess, that it was my baby brother who was to blame for that. I must have said it out loud because I remember my Dad laughing and saying what a monster Olek must be. I felt really sorry for Mum. Then I don’t remember anything else, but later on I often thought that this first impression of Olek that I got, before even actually meeting him, could have influenced my later attitude towards him and I felt guilty because of that and still sort of do, though these days this is not the sole reason for why I feel a sense of guilt in relation to him, but that’s a whole different topic. Anyway, when we were little kids, I was really nasty for him. I don’t really remember that very clearly but my parents say I could just come over to him all of a sudden and start frantically bang him with something over the head or bite him really badly, or I wouldn’t let him play with my toys and generally rejected him all the time. I do remember having a kind of feeling of aversion or something towards him and like I didn’t really like him, and that I was very fickle with him. Sometimes I played together with him and we had a lot of fun, but other times I wouldn’t let him play with me. We shared the same bedroom (actually at the time our whole family had just one, huge, open area that we slept in) and sometimes I would initiate some play, because I was rarely sleepy when I should be and as a toddler always got a huge energy shot towards the evenings and it was the best time for playing for me, and he happily joined in with that, or we just talked and laughed like crazy because everything’s always most hilarious when it’s time to sleep. And then in the middle of that I’d suddenly just turn my back on him for no apparent reason and play by myself or start doing something else that I wouldn’t include him in and I acted like I was cross with him or something. Or we’d be talking and suddenly I’d start acting royally haughty and like I was deadly bored and be like: “I don’t wanna talk to you”. Or if he tried to talk to me but I didn’t feel like it, I’d also say something like that, no matter how much the poor kid would try to get my attention. Thinking back to that, I am actually a bit surprised that he wasn’t similarly nasty to me in return, as kids usually are. He’d still make efforts to be able to play with me no matter how jerky I was with him, and no matter how often I’d keep rejecting him he’d continue to try to connect with me and was always very protective of me as a kid, it looked as if my attitude wasn’t even affecting him at all. Sure he liked a bit of sibling rivalry, and would be mischievous sometimes and piss me off totally deliberately, but he was mischievous with everyone so it wasn’t anything specifically directed at me, and I think a lot of kids, if they were treated like that by an older sibling, would at some point just shrug and let go, or start acting the same as their sibling.

How about your earliest memory? πŸ™‚

Ten Things of Thankful.

I thought it’s time to do some gratitude list post, as I haven’t done it in a while. As usual with such posts, I’m linking up with

Ten Things of Thankful (TToT).

  1. Β Β  That my immediate family are more or less healthy again. We had a wave of Covid goingΒ  through our house in the last couple of weeks and we suspect we all might have been sick with it, to a varying degree. My parents certainly were, and it was them who were particularly badly ill. I was especially worried about my Mum, who has episodic asthma, and has been in the midst of an episode when it hit her, so she had really awful cough, but was also generally quite unwell with awful muscle pains and stuff. Thankfully, my Dad is completely well now and back to work, and my Mum is a lot better. She still can’t feel smells or tastes and has worse cough than her usual asthma cough, but other than that she says she’s feeling well and it shows. I’m really glad this is over, as it was quite depressing having a mini hospital at home, and like I said quite worrying at times.
        1. Good sleep last night. My sleep has been very up and down lately, and yesterday I had quite an awful anxiety day. It took me ages to settle down to sleep and I was really scared to fall asleep, but when I eventually did fall asleep I got solid ten hours of it and didn’t even wake up all the time as is usual when I’m having bad anxiety.
  2. Mum’s help. I’ve been having a lot of stuff to do this week – some Christmas shopping, writing and sending cards to people, some banking stuff etc. – and my Mum helped me with it all, which I am the more grateful for given that she’s still recovering. I’ve got a HUUUUGE collection of English-language cards that my Mum stocked up on for me years ago so that I can send them to people abroad, as I only send cards to people abroad at this point. That card collection is also something I’m grateful for, so that I don’t have to worry every single year whether I’ll be able to find the right cards for people in the shops but just pick something from my overflowing box. πŸ˜€ Christmas shopping is also so much easier for me with my Mum because I’m terrible with money and stuff like that, even when shopping online. Not to mention banking. πŸ˜€
  3. Lots of snow. We’ve been having a lot of snow since the end of November. Well, not like A LOT, but surprisingly much for this time, we usually don’t get proper, fluffy snow that would stay around for a longer time until about Christmas. And this early snow has been very fluffy so you can make snowballs and snowmen and whatever you want from it. We’d been in quarantine and now Sofi’s school has their classes online because a few teachers are sick, so Sofi’s really happy with the snow and we both play in it together with Jocky, and Jack Frost haha. It also means that I can wear my comfy fluffy overalls in the evenings that my Mum’s made for me for Christmas a few years ago, and it’s the season for tea with ginger and other amazing things like that. Tomorrow, provided that Sofi won’t lose interest, we’re going to make gingerbreads.
  4. Misha. I am grateful for Misha’s existence each and every day, even though today I haven’t even seen him yet because in the morning he played with Sofi and now no one knows where he’s sleeping.
  5. Tasting Christmas food. My Mum’s made a start to making all our traditional Christmas dishes, but because her sense of taste is non-functioning at the moment, it’s been quite challenging for her. Thus, Sofi and I kindly offered our help with the gustatory part. It was mostly meant to be for our current benefit – so that we get to taste all the Christmas food before Christmas actually comes – but now I’m really glad we thought about this because otherwise some of the dishes would be really quite insipid haha. I mean, Mum said she seasoned everything but it must’ve been some truly minuscule amounts. I really hope Mum’s senses go back to normal until Christmas so she can actually enjoy Christmas food.
  6. Medication. I’m grateful for having pain killers, as well as my migraine and anxiety medicines available. I had a migraine on Monday, which was pretty shitty, but I’m sure it would be even shittier if I didn’t have the migraine meds. And like I said I also had quite high anxiety yesterday. I’m absolutely used to dealing with anxiety with no meds, as that’s what I did for most of my life until I got my diagnoses, and I still try to take my PRN med only when things get really bad because it’s Xanax (except it has a different name here) so it’s highly addictive. It only takes the edge off it most of the time, but that’s still a very welcome difference and I’m extremely grateful for that, as at least it helps me to focus on and see other things in life beyond my little Bibiel brain bubble.
  7. My little Bluetooth speaker. Well, I’ve had it for over a year now and I’ve always loved it, but the reason why I mention it in this gratitude list specifically is that recently, for some mysterious reasons, it had stopped working for me. Basically, this speaker always gets a little freaky when I get a phone call, like it doesn’t know what to do about it. Sometimes its volume will go all the way up and it will play the ringer sound at the same time when my phone’s already playing it (best way to be woken up at night, and wake up everyone else), or it’ll turn off and never turn back on or anything when I finish the call. Sometimes when I answer the call I’ll hear it through the speaker, other times through the phone. So overall it’s just very unpredictable in how it behaves with phone calls and I don’t really know why, but normally I don’t care much because I don’t talk to people on the phone much. And earlier this week, I was listening to music when Sofi called me, and I heard a very weird popping sound from the speaker and then it turned off. I talked with Sofi, and wanted to turn the speaker back on when we finished the call, but it just made that popping sound again and wouldn’t play despite it looked like it was on. I tried to reset it but again it would only pop when I turned it off and on, and nothing beyond that, despite several trials, literally nothing I came up with seemed to help. I was really disappointed because it’s a really good speaker and I’ve been really happy with it so far. It has a smooth, bedroom-y sound, which is what I was looking for because I mostly wanted a speaker that I could listen to music from at night, but at the same time, unlike most speakers specifically branded as bedroom speakers, it sounds very clear even at relatively low volumes, and very neat when you turn it up as well. Also everyone says that it fits my room aesthetically for some reason. And my Mum always says she envies me it, which I totally understand, haha. And it’s from B&O which are known to make good devices overall so I wouldn’t have expected that this speaker would have such a short life or be so prone to serious malfunction, especially given its price, and I also have headphones from B&O so I was wondering if I should also prepare for their time to come soon. I was planning to get in touch with B&O somehow, but in the meantime my speaker was totally useless. Then yesterday I tried to turn it on once again, and, surprise! it worked! I’ve no idea what was wrong with it but now it works completely fine. I even got Sofi to call me again while I had it connected to my phone and it didn’t freak out. I’m really glad to have a functioning speaker again, and now I appreciate it even more that I don’t have to rely on the iPhone’s built-in and rather unfriendly-sounding speaker all the time. πŸ˜€
  8. That we have the possibility to attend traditional Latin Mass every week. I recently wrote about our discovering and kind of “conversion” to traditional Catholicism, and you can read about that here.Β  I am also grateful for all the resources that help me develop my faith and for all the grace that God gives me to make it possible for me to do so.
  9. My language-learning progress. This week has been rather low-key in this department, but I’ve been listening to a lot of Norwegian podcasts and have become a lot more confident when it comes to my listening skills in this language. I have also learnt some interesting new Welsh words. Fun fact for y’all: there’s such a word in the Welsh language as clusfeinio (klis-VAY-nee-aw in the North or klees-VAY-nee-aw in the South though I’m never quite sure how to represent Welsh sounds in English phonetically) which means to listen attentively, as well as to eavesdrop. I think it’s cool that there’s a language in this world that has a special word for the particularly attentive kind of eavesdropping, as this is something I do a lot. People-watching, blind edition.

What are your thankfuls this week? πŸ™‚

Delyth Evans – “Gymnopedie III”.

Hey people! πŸ™‚

Recently I shared with you one of the Gnossiennes composed by Eric Satie and played on the harp by Floraleda Sacchi, and today I’d like to share another, and I guess more commonly known, composition by Eric Satie – the last of his Gymnopedies. – Gymnopedies are three pieces of music that Satie composed for piano, all very melancholic pieces (the first is meant to be played painfully, the second sadly, and the third – the one we’ll listen to today – gravely) and I’ve heard quite a few different harp performances of them and I really like how they sound played on the harp. The name of these pieces comes from some ancient Greek festivity called gymnopaedia, during which young men were dancing naked/unarmed. I have a little bit of a personal connection with Gymnopedies because when I was in nursery, there was a documentary that was being filmed about our nursery (for the blind) and how we lived in there. Then all of our parents got a copy of this film. I now know that my Mum hated that film, but she watched it a lot anyways especially when I was away at school and then she always ended up crying. Once I grew up a bit I never liked watching it either or people mentioning it, something about it is very depressing to me though I’m pretty sure it’s just in my brain and all sorts of memories coming up rather than the documentary itself being objectively depressing. Anyways, gymnopedies were in the soundtrack of this film. I actually don’t remember now if it was all of the Gymnopedies or just one, and if one then which one, because I haven’t watched that in ages nor has my Mum, but I am sure that there was at least one Gymnopedie. I guess Gymnopedies are a sort of go-to soundtrack for all things that are meant to be tear-jerking because I’ve heard them used a lot in this way. This is actually a bit of a pity, because they’re great pieces of music, and while they’re melancholic, it’s not in a tear-jerking, maudlin way. But despite my Mum hated that film, she really liked this music and wanted to know what it is, and finally when she found out she bought some music album where Gymnopedies were included, I don’t know who played them. And she still really likes them despite they sometimes make her think about the times when I was at school and how it made her sad that I couldn’t be at home with my family. And that’s why, when it comes to me, what I primarily associate Gymnopedies and what they make me think of when I hear them is my Mum, rather than the time when I was in nursery, which I’m so glad about, because otherwise they’d probably be totally spoilt for me, and as it is, I really love them. Especially, like I said, played on harp. This third, grave Gymnopedie in A minor is played by the already well-known harpist on this blog, Delyth Evans (currently Jenkins) from Wales.

Question of the day (30th November).

I am learning…

My answer:

…these days, I’m learning a lot about what is currently generally known as traditionalist Catholicism, that is basically Catholicism pre Vatican Council II and Holy Mass before that Council, which is also known as Tridentine Mass or traditional Mass and I guess a couple other terms exist in English but I don’t remember that now. As you might or might not recall, my Mum and I used to attend the Tridentine Mass for quite some time, I’m not sure when it all started, maybe a year or two ago…? We loved it and I think we always had some kind of subconscious desire or need or I’m not sure how to call it, to go back to the tradition, to what’s actually true. But in the beginning our main motivation to go to the Tridentine Mass was just emotional – that it was so much deeper, more beautiful, very moving for my Mum, so atmospheric, and for me it was interesting that it was in Latin. – I recently thought that back then I didn’t even have much of an idea as for why exactly this Mass is still celebrated, I thought it was mostly the sentimental value, that people just like it more for this depth it has, that it’s just the matter of liking it more or something. I heard about people who put so much effort into it that they go exclusively to traditional Mass and reject most things post Vatican II, and while I admired that in a way, I thought it was kind of unnecessarily hardcore. My Mum had a traditional missal or whatever it’s called in English, which she always took with her to that Mass, and some other traditionalist books from a Polish publishing house that publishes only this type of content. She sometimes read them to me and Sofi but generally, good Catholic ebooks (at least in Polish, and I much prefer consuming Catholic content in Polish rather than English) are not very widely available, and even if I had some books it wouldn’t be quite doable for me to use my Braille-Sense in church comfortably, and printing that in Braille would be really expensive, so I had nothing, which didn’t help my understanding of this Mass. My Mum was confused by a lot of things, and I was twice as much. I did understand more of Latin than my Mum did, though, and it was slightly less challenging for me, because I know a few more IndoEuropean languages, and particularly English which of course shares a ton of vocabulary with Latin. Also my grandad knows a lot of Latin and taught me a lot of words as a kid, which I always liked and absorbed willingly, and I have an interest in names, and a lot of names with European origins (about which I know more than about names from other cultures) come from Latin words. I also read the entire Dictionary of the Foreign Words and Phrases when I was ten after my Achilles tendon surgery when I was in casts for six weeks and had not much to do. All that helps me to understand a lot of single words, or at least suspect more or less what they might mean, so I can sometimes figure out more or less the overall meaning of what is said. Also I learned some basic prayers by heart quite quickly. Then as time went by we went to Tridentine Mass less and less, because it was difficult logistically, it was only in one church that we knew of in our area, only once on Sunday and once on a week day, and in the afternoon which we weren’t used to as we usually went to Mass early in the morning and it felt kind of “lousy” waiting with it until the afternoon and planning everything else major for the day was difficult. Besides, Dad and Sofi still went to the “normal” Mass, and so did Olek except he never went with us so we didn’t have to adjust to him or anything. And my Mum felt it was kind of odd that we didn’t go to the church together, and Dad always wants to do everything together with Mum so he was sulking every time we went to the Tridentine Mass, but he never wanted to go with us. Sofi went once but, being younger and less aware of things than she is now, she was extremely bored and frustrated, not understanding a word from it aside from the reading, Gospel and homily, not knowing what was going on, when to do what etc. and it was really long for her. So eventually, we stopped going altogether, despite still having, or feeling like we had, a strong affinity with the traditionalist movement and my Mum really longed for the Tridentine Mass and felt that the new Mass was lacking in reverence for God compared with the traditional Mass and it pained her, and reverent is something that a Mass should definitely be. I felt it too, but I didn’t actually see things that happen at either Mass, being blind, so it wasn’t quite the same as for her, even though I saw that lack of reverence and focusing primarily on humans rather than God in other aspects and things. Then, I think it was October, my Mum started to dig deeper in all things traditionalist, reading, listening to and watching traditionalist Catholic resources, and sharing a lot of that knowledge with us all. I found that very fascinating, for lack of a more fitting word, so I listened eagerly and then followed down that rabbit hole myself. It all felt like a very slow, gradual process, but now when I think back to those first weeks of this it seems like a lot happened so suddenly. Then after some time Sofi followed too. She has a very keen interest in all this and asks a lot of questions but has a hard time finding information for herself, even when we provide her with resources, because she isn’t the most patient and struggles with lengthy reading or listening to someone talking for ages because there are no images that you could just look at and learn the gist of it in five minutes, so it’s a frustrating process for her, but she is also learning a lot. We are not only learning about the Mass, all the differences between it and the new Mass, but also other aspects of traditionalist Catholicism. I am just writing about it in short because it’s very complex and kind of tricky to write about and if I wanted to do it in detail I’d have to write a whole essay, and also because most of my active readers are not Catholic as far as I know, but there has been so much going on for us in this area lately. Now, ever since like the end of October-beginning of November, Mum, Sofi and myself attend only the Latin Mass, and if for some reason we are unable to do so when it’s a holiday, we attend it in spirit, and to help us with that we listen to a traditional Mass online, rather than go to the new mass. That may seem very weird or hardcore to Catholics who go to the new Mass, as it once seemed to me, and we had a lot of doubts initially, but that’s what we think is the best thing to do. Although despite our previous logistical difficulties with attending traditional Mass, currently, it’s not so much a problem. We actually consider ourselves super lucky because we’ve found out that, in addition to the church where we used to go for this Mass, there are also two chapels in our area which celebrate it regularly, and a few other churches which do it on a less regular basis or which are a bit further away but still close enough that we can go there if need be. That’s a luxury compared with some other regions and I’m so happy about that. Like, one time we went to the chapel, there were people from a town that is some two and a half hour’s drive away! :O As for books, yes, I still often feel totally clueless when I go to Mass, because like I said it’s not very doable for me to have a book to refer to during the service, but I am learning that, unlike it works with the new Mass, it’s not my role to understand everything, say all those Latin prayers and know what’s going on. That’s the priest’s role, and even he cannot understand everything, and that’s what we have faith for. Who, after all, even in their mother tongue, understands things like, for example, what Holy Trinity means? My role is to pray as ardently as I can, offer up everything I have, and praise God. Sure it’s our duty to deepen our faith by learning and trying to understand, but it’s okay not to understand everything and also I’m sure that over time I’ll become less clueless, I am already becoming less and less clueless, or so it seems to my little Bibiel brains and so I’m hoping. However, the situation in the book department is still much better than what I expected it to be based on my previous experiences. My Mum has been drilling the holes in the brains of people from that traditionalist Catholic publishing house that they should make ebooks, even that they should audiodescribe the traditional Latin Mass for the blind (yeah, my Mum always dreams big) but so far there are no ebooks that they offer. Yet, I’ve managed to find a deliciously old (19th century) Polish book that my Mum also has from somewhere, a book about Mass, all its part, what everything means, how to listen to it/take part in it, all the rituals and what they look like etc. etc. etc. It’s a small book and it’s not a missal or anything like that, it’s just the very basics and clearly written for simple people in a simple language, but I’ve found it very helpful to read before Mass at home. It made me think of one thing (well, it made me think of lots of things lol but one specific that I want to mention), because a few times it mentioned people who were illiterate and only then I fully realised that, after all, years ago, a lot of people couldn’t read and were in a similar situation to me, and I wondered how they prayed during Mass. I asked around and did a bit of research and turns out a lot of people prayed rosary. That reminded me of an elderly lady I once came across in church at new Mass, she was sitting behind me and I could overhear that she was praying the rosary, whispering rather loudly. I found that weird, and thought it was quite ignorant to pray the rosary while attending a Mass. Now that’s what I often do myself and I think one fits with the other perfectly well. Or I try to meditate on Jesus’ crucifixion. Then I also found out that there is a website which has all sorts of articles on traditional Catholicism, but also you can download missal as an ebook from there. So now I have my own missal as well so I can read readings and Gospel and everything before each Mass. Unfortunately, my Dad only went with Mum and Sofi once, when I was sick recently and couldn’t go with them. Afterwards, when Mum asked him about his impressions, he said he felt as if he was at a Mass in a completely different country and didn’t seem to like that feeling. He no longer expresses that he’d like to go with us and says things like “your church” so he clearly doesn’t feel a part of it. I guess it’s that little bit too far out of his comfort zone but maybe as time passes it will become easier for him. But we don’t press him, as that’s not likely to help. Olek is very interested when Mum talks to him about it but so far hasn’t been on a traditional Mass.

So yeah, that’s something that I’ve been learning a lot about lately. We laugh with Mum that it feels a bit as if we were newly converted or something. πŸ˜€ We also still feel a strong connection with this rite emotionally, I think it sort of resonates with our personalities much more than all the new stuff and I could list so many reasons. One recent example could be that we were once talking about how cool it is that it’s a sort of default thing for women to wear a head scarf or something similar at a traditional Mass. I initially thought it was a little odd that it’s almost like a requirement and couldn’t understand why such a thing would be so important, but now I really like it and so does Mum. You’re kind of veiled from people and you’re more anonymous, people don’t stare at you, and as my Mum says, you can cry if you want and no one will even notice, and my Mum cries a lot in church because she’s sensitive like that and easily moved. I often make weird facial expressions and not always know about it, or I do even when I know, so I like that for this reason too. And it’s generally just cool, though Sofi still says she feels like a Russian granny when she has to cover her head in church. πŸ˜€ Basically what I want to say I guess is that it’s more introvert-friendly in a way than things like charismatic movements and the like that have developed after Vatican II. I remember back when I was at the boarding school, there was a time when our boarding school group staff would often invite people from different religious groups/communities/movements within the Church that existed and they would tell us about those communities and encouraged us to join in and I’d frequently hear that it’s so good to belong to some group like that because then you are a member of the Church more fully or something along those lines. None of those communities resonated with me, they all felt like there’s so much socialising above all else and totally not my thing, so I sometimes wondered whether that makes me a bad Christian. I am happy that it doesn’t really work like I’d been told.

What is it that you are learning? πŸ™‚

A quick announcement about My Inner Mishmash Readership Award.

I’m just writing this very quick post to let you all know that, after a lot of thinking, and now also discussing it with my Mum, I decided that I won’t be sending out My Inner Mishmash Readership Award packages this year. My Mum helps me a lot with the whole process of preparing and organising MIMRAs, coming up with ideas for their contents, finding them, and in particular with sending them out, but because this year has been quite difficult for her health-wise due to yucky menopause and now also her episodic asthma flaring up, I feel it isn’t fair to pressure her with MIMRA on top of that, though I was really looking forward to this as I was in the two previous years and it feels sad that this year will be without MIMRAs, as I find making them very exciting even if there’s a fair bit of pressure involved and a lot of things to do. Unfortunately I am not able to do all about MIMRAs without my Mum’s help, and have no one else who could help me with this here , so this is how I feel it has to be at the moment. Hopefully MIMRAs will be back next year. πŸ™‚

Question of the day.

What are you thinking about?

My answer:

Okay, so this will be a rathr rambly post, as I also want to fill you in a bit and get some stuff out.

Today in general I’ve been thinking a lot about Sofi as I’m kind of worried about her and so is Mum. You see, Sofi is very slim, and very tall, and she keeps growing, even though she’s already like 180 cm. She also has long bones, long limbs and rather weak joints and muscles. She has done several different sport disciplines, but she hasn’t developed much muscle as a result and was always super quick to get injuries and stuff from it. The last time she tried some new sport (athletics) she ended up with a really painful ankle after just a few days of training, which had to rest for two weeks. People (but especially my Mum, who, also being very tall, I think has some unfulfilled ambitions of her own regarding doing sports as a teenager) have always pushed her to do sports because she’s so tall and fit and in this day and age where kids spend ages glued to their phones it’s the best thing for a kid to do. And Sofi seemed into it herself, but since that athletics episode it looks like she’s had enough and my Mum is no longer pushing her either.

Due to all those injuries, and sometimes without any obvious injuries at all, for many years Sofi’s had all sorts of aches and pains, mostly in her knees. I think everyone here has lost track of how many times she’s had her knees checked by doctors/physios, she also had knee braces several times. But with the exception of times when she had some obvious injury that she could recall herself, everyone has been saying, that it’s just “growing pains” and/or that she needs to put on some weight. I don’t know, I way less than her and I don’t really know what it’s like having joint pain, and I’ve never had anything broken, so I’ve no idea what’s weight to do with it. She’s had several bones broken, but also had her fingers in splints or however this thing is called in English several times, and I don’t know any other person, or at least am unaware of it, who’d ever break their finger, let alone as often and as easily as Sofi. But people have always said it’s nothing abnormal because our Dad has also pretty fragile bones, he’s also similarly built, and he’s had dozens of fractures when he was younger, including once breaking his ankle simply by tripping on a doorstep. I’ve honestly always thought that her pain tolerance must be very low or something because whenever she’d play with someone more dynamically, everything would hurt her and sometimes it seemed quite out of proportion, so that sometimes my Dad made fun of her and asked her to name all the places where she’s hurting, and she’d always have a few, but then as my Mum says if nothing hurts you, you can’t be alive, right?…

Sofi has like a double room, one part of this room is just like a normal room, and then there’s a hole in the wall and you can go in there and it’s like a little cave or something, like a mini room inside of that bigger room. Sofi reallyy likes it and has always spent a lot of time there. And earlier this year she decided to move her bed in there, or rather move the bed out of her main room and put a mattress into that mini room. That mini room, however, didn’t have a window, so one had to be put in there if she was to sleep there. Sofi really liked her new, cosy bedroom and always said she likes to sleep there way more. But then summer came and then a heatwave and it turned out that the little window doesn’t really change much, and even with a fan on her bedroom was always flamin’ hot. So she slept in my room for the time being, as I have AC and blinds here that make life in heat more bearable now, but since it was so hot and clammy we definitely didn’t want to sleep together in one bed. And I certainly didn’t have the space here for Sofi’s huge matress. So she had to make herself a makeshift bed. That was a huge ceremony as she couldn’t make it soft enough while not being too hot. She woke up in the morning complaining of a very painful hip, saying that her bed was still too hard, or maybe it’s her hip that’s too hard and now got bruised. She really had a huge bruise on it and I was quite puzzled that you could get yourself something like this when sleeping on such a load of sheets and blankets, plus Misha’s lamb skin, on the floor which does have a flooring. But then we managed to discover the culprit – on the floor, under all those layers of bedding, there lay Misha’s little iron ball – like the ones in car bearings. – Sounds like Sofi’s the real life Princess on the Pea! πŸ˜€

But the next night she slept at me, she woke up with even worse hip pain, so that it hurt her even when something or someone touched it a bit more firmly. And there was no ball to blame this time round.

The bruise took long to disappear, but it finally did, yet the pain hasn’t until this day, even though it’s been a month. So a couple weeks ago Mum finally took Sofi to the doctor to refer her for an xRay or something. Sofi’s previous paediatrician has recently retired so they visited this doctor for the first time ever. And, as Mum said, that was a very good thing, because she looked at Sofi from a fresh perspective, rather than “Ah, it’s this tall girl who’s always hurting”, and in her opinion it might be something else entirely than growing or thinness that causes Sofi’s constant pain problems, along with fractures and unstoppable growth.

She apparently had a long, thorough look at Sofi and said she thinks Sofi might have something called Marfan syndrome. People with this condition are usually very tall, very thin, have looong fingers, little muscle, fragile bones, often some problems with posture, very flexible joints, are near-sighted and have various heart problems and probably a dozen other things. Everything from what I mentioned except heart problems sounds very much Sofi. And even though Sofi herself doesn’t have heart problems, my Dad has hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, and like I said he has the same kind of body shape. My siblings and i have all been tested whether we have cardiomyopathy too but so far no one of us does, including Sofi. However sometimes when Sofi’s tired or stressed she complains that her heart aches, and sometimes it seems like she can be in a fair bit of pain from it. I would think that’s also abnormal, because I’ve never experienced heart pain, but my Mum says it is normal that people can have heart pain when they’re stressed so we’ve no idea if Sofi’s within the norm or not.

The only other time I heard of Marfan syndrome before was shortly before I was supposed to be checked for that cardiomyopathy thing myself, I could have been 17 or thereabouts. I was about to go ride on my horse and my Mum was explaining to my instructor that I won’t be able to come next week at the same time because I’ll have the cardiologist appointment, and my instructor suddenly got all panicky: “Oh! Why?! What’s going on?! Do you have some heart condition that I don’t know about?” so of course we assured her that no and that I’m just getting tested because of Dad’s illness, and she was all relieved and said she was just worried because she had another girl she worked with who had some sight problems and was slim and “tall like you” and she had Marfan syndrome, and apparently generally horse riding is a no-no when you have this. Fyi, I’m not really tall, I’m only 168 cm and I actually have hypopituitarism which essentially means that I had to get growth hormone injections as a teenager to grow beyond 140 cm, and before I started taking it I was short and plump. My endocrinologist, who was short and plump herself, wanted me to grow more and more and more, “So that you’re tall like your Mum”, but thankfully my Mum put a stop to that before it was too late. But as I started taking it, suddenly everyone, especially at my school, was “Omg you’re so tall!!!” and neither me nor my family could understand why so it always made us laugh, because if I was tall, what sort of giant Olek must have been to them, when he’s over 1,90. πŸ˜€ I suppose it must have been people’s autosuggestion because well, my Mum is tall, my Dad is tall, everyone else from my family who had ever been to my school is tall, plus I suddenly got a lot slimmer on that hormone so I guess slim people look taller than they are. Now hardly anyone still says that to me but my riding instructor happens to be very short, so she always goes on and on and on about how she’d like to have long legs like mine for riding etc. I actually do have very long and thin fingers, long fingers can be useful, but mine aren’t quite as long as Sofi’s, and like her I am also a lot more physically similar to my Dad and his family rather than Mum’s, but thankfully I haven’t got his bones. One time when I was at school, one of the boarding school staff was mentioning something about Britney Spears to my roommates and me and how she can throw her legs behind her head. I never did it, and I’ve never been particularly sporty or anything, but I thought to myself that it can’t be that difficult, and I decided it would be a fun idea to try and find out if I can do it myself, so that was what I did right there, and she was quite amazed that I can do it and freaked out and urged me to stop, saying that I’ll stay like that forever lol, even though it wasn’t much of a problem for me to do it at all so I wondered why so much fuss. πŸ˜€ But apparently not everyone can do it, so I sometimes did it just out of the blue, in favourable circumstances, to see how people would react, especially if I wanted to avert their attention from something else. I’d put my legs behind my head and rock in this position for a while like I was deadly bored and this was as good a thing as any that I could do in such situation, and people would often start yelling “Aaah what’s she doing?!” πŸ˜€ But when I tried my little trick on Dad he wasn’t surprised at all and said he did that too when he was younger. But can no longer do it. Interestingly, neither can Sofi and she never could, even though she’s way better at all things fit than me, so she’s envious, even though she can do all the typical things that people with Marfan’s apparently should be able to do like clenching your fingers in a fist and sticking your thumb out the other side. For me and Olek only a little bit of our thumbs go out, but Sofi can stick out half of her thumb. When I was a child people would also often comment on how I do weird things with my fingers that they wouldn’t be able to do, but about which I didn’t even think. Yet like I said, I’ve never had the aches and pains, nor heart problems, and I have nothing wrong with my eyes as such, only optic nerves, so I guess I only have some similar features. That makes me wonder if Sofi also just has similar features, or is it seriously a full-blown illness, even if she’s never had a surgery or anything like that?

So, going back to that doctor, Sofi got a referral for the hip xRay, but also for genetic testing for this weird thing, which is going to take place in February so she still has ages to wait and in the meantime my Mum is getting really worked up about whether Sofi has this or not. Initially we thought it’s probably a false alarm because despite all these aches and pains, plus Sofi being a bit near-sighted, it’s not like she has a lot of health problems, she has nothing wrong with her heart. Mum read that in the past, where there weren’t so many surgeries that now help people with this condition to lead long and as healthy as possible lives, people with this syndrome would die at about age 30. Well, if we assume Sofi has it, then my Dad has it even more definitely, and he only needed one surgery which has dealt with the problem quite well, and he doesn’t have quite so many problems as it seems people with Marfan’s typically have. But then I guess it’s a spectrum and people may have more severe or milder symptoms, but it’s still the same condition. I’m just not sure what to think. I guess I could not think about it at all until we know, but my brain doesn’t like to not think, so I hardly have a real choice.

At the beginning, as much as Mum was quite depressed and anxious about the whole thing, Sofi seemed quite happy. Soon after Mum told me the news and we talked it through, Sofi came to me all happy go-lucky and said: “Bibiel, guess what? The doctor said I have morphine.” She couldn’t remember what that thing was called, but as soon as she said “morphine” she knew it wasn’t that, and she knows what morphine is, so we both were laughing like crazy. πŸ˜€ So I asked her what this morphine is all about, as I didn’t want to show that I already knew about it from Mum, I wanted to know how she understood it and how she felt about it. And she said that it’s something that makes you tall and thin and makes your joints and bones and muscles hurt like hers and makes your fingers real long (whereupon she proudly presented to me how her fingers actually meet the criteria and how it’s so cool), and sometimes it screws your heart up. So I asked her what she thinks about it and she said it’s actually quite cool, because she doesn’t have any heart problems, and she no longer wants to do sports anyway, and this will be a good way to respond to people who make stupid comments about how tall she is. “Yeah, it’s ’cause I have morphine”. πŸ˜€ And it’s a fun random fact to tell people about yourself. Sofi has fairly recently started her YouTube channel and has wanted to do a facts about me video so I could see how such a super weird fact would be valuable.

But her hip kept hurting, and when she had an xRay it didn’t reveal anything at all. The xRay lady was also apparently real nasty to her, pressing her hip really hard, I guess not intentionally, and when Sofi winced she asked: “Does it really hurt you so much?” No, for flip’s sake, why would you think so? I just like getting xRays y’know? I had one half a year ago but it’s so much fun, and I was kind of bored so Mum thought we’d go and have another one. That wasn’t what Sofi told her, of course, just my brain’s allergic reaction to bullshit.

But a few days after the xRay, Sofi’s hip has started to hurt even more, so that she even finds it difficult to fall and stay asleep, and even if she herself touches the hip lightly it hurts like crazy. Even the seatbelt hurts. So when it started to hurt more she once came to me and, with a lot more concern than before asked: “Bibiel, what do you think, do I have this morphine or not?” “How would I know such a thing?” “I know, but what’s your instinct?” I said that my instinct is (or was, at the time) that she doesn’t have it, because she’d have way more problems with her health, and so would Dad. It’s honestly a difficult thing to have any gut feelings about since I barely have a clue about things like that. Last night Sofi’s hip hurt particularly badly because she bumped it accidentally with her elbow, and she couldn’t fall asleep. And I asked her if she wasn’t prescribed any pain killers for it at all. Sofi said no, because there’s nothing on the xRay. Holy shit, what sort of logic is that? I don’t know, obviously I’m not a doctor, but if I were, my dr Bibiel logic would be, if a patient has a lot of pain and she can’t sleep, especially if she’s a kid, and I can’t figure out what’s causing the pain, and the xRay doesn’t show anything, I’d at least try to relieve the pain if I’m absolutely sure that nothing else can be done to actually deal with the cause of the pain. Besides, yes Sofi will have that genetic testing in February, but couldn’t they keep looking for a direct source of the pain regardless? I don’t know, ultrasounds, whatever is used in such cases? I shared my reflections with Mum today morning, and she’s going to get Sofi to have an ultrasound soon, but we both think that this should have come from the doctor. We don’t even know if ultrasound is indeed the next thing that Sofi should have, it was just the first thought that popped into my head so that’s the direction in which Mum’s going first.

But what worries Mum even more than Sofi’s hip pain is her growth. My Mum is very much into hormones, as she’s going through menopause herself and has been trying to figure it all out and help herself with her very obnoxious symptoms. She uses natural progesterone and estrogen creams, tries to eat healthily and uses other things that help with hormonal balance I don’t even know what they are, reads books about hormones in females and generally educates herself in this regard all the time. And, since she already has some experience with me when it comes to hormones and growth/puberty, she started wondering right after Sofi got this potential diagnosis, whether/how Marfan syndrome may affect hormones, since people with this thing are so tall. She found that, while unlike what she thought Marfan syndrome isn’t directly linked to hormones, apparently what endocrinologists do with girls with this syndrome when they keep growing and growing is they give them estrogen to trigger menstruation, and that apparently stops further growth. I didn’t even know there’s such a relationship between menstruation and growth and that as soon as the former starts the latter is over. The way I put it is probably very simplified and maybe even not entirely correct but that’s just the gist of it. Apparently girls with Marfan’s also tend to start their periods later than average, which would be true for Sofi, who is 14 now and still hasn’t got it. Since Sofi is 180 cm now, Mum, who is exactly the same height and not particularly loving it, really doesn’t want her to grow even more, because it’s so impractical, so she gave Sofi the estrogen cream and instructed her how she should use and dose it. I’m not sure whether it’s a good thing the way she does it, just based on her own research. I mean, she’s surely very knowledgeable by now, but her knowledge is mostly limited to how hormones work in middle-aged women and it would suck if she screwed up something with Sofi’s hormones really bad just because she no longer wants her to grow.

Mum’s getting really neurotic about it all, which I can’t really blame her for. And today she went to do her nails, and spilled out some of her worries at the beautician, who was oh so helpful. I mean, I’m sure she meant very well, but she only worked my Mum up even more. My Mum explained to her how she’s worried that Sofi still hasn’t gotten her period, and keeps growing, and that Mum doesn’t want her to become a giraffe, and is worried that she still isn’t menstruating for so long. And the beautician said that she also didn’t menstruate for very long, so her mum took her to the gynaecologist and it turned out she had polycystic ovaries, so she’d advise my Mum to go get Sofi checked out as well. Uhhh… Mum came home and spent an hour flicking through her books, trying to find stuff about polycystic ovaries, and since all her books concern mostly older women, it seems like a lot of what she’s read is quite depressing.

I highly doubt (for what gut feelings are worth) that Sofi has this particular thing. I don’t think I got my period earlier than Sofi. I’m probably not the best example since according to my endocrinologist it was not certain if I’d ever have it, but still, I guess 14 is too early an age to wail over lack of period. But since I usually pick up people’s moods super quick, I’m feeling worried too. So that’s why I’m thinking about it.

How about you? πŸ™‚

Question of the day.

Have you ever shared a toothbrush or a stick of deodourant with anyone?

My answer:

We do share a toothbrush with Sofi, and a deodourant with my whole family all the time… Ewww! Well, actually it’s not quite so gross. πŸ˜€ It’s not gross because our toothbrush is electric, so each of us simply has her own head for it. I guess that’s a lot more economical than having two toothbrushes for two people. And as for the deodourant, well, it’s not a stick, so it doesn’t really match this question’s criteria, but still, it’s a deodourant that my Mum makes for all of us. My Mum is a health, lifestyle and wellness geek as y’all know, and part of what it means is that ever since she’s embraced this new identity of hers, she’s started doing some cosmetics of her own. Not a lot and nothing fancy, because she’s not the kind of person who’d need a lot of cosmetics these days, but she just doesn’t believe in most of the mainstream ones that they’re working at all and she says that if they do it’s a placebo. She makes her own deodourant, toothpaste, sometimes soap, but rather occasionally because she does have a soap that she likes and considers good and that we all are also happy to use, and she also makes some other things for facial care that are easy enough to make. So we have a huge container of Mum’s deodourant in the bathroom. It’s made of baking soda and coconut oil, and a drop of some essential oil for fragrance. This doesn’t block your sweat glands like typical deodourants do, but simply totally neutralises the smell.

How about you? πŸ™‚

Question of the day.

What is one thing that your parents taught you, that later turned to be totally wrong?

My answer:

For me it’s generally so that it’s my Mum who is more of an authority for me than my Dad, and our views on a lot of things are generallyy very similar, which is extremely fortunate since we live together and do a lot of things together so it would be tricky if we were clashing a lot more, and it’s not as smooth for a lot of other families I know, but also when I want to talk to her about something that I don’t agree with her on or confront her about something she’ll be able to have an open-minded discussion, and she’s also not the type of person who would insist on always being right and never was, she is capable of saying things like “I’m sorry, I really thought it was like this but now I know it’s not”, or we’ll simply accept that we’re on totally different pages about something and move on. My Dad, meanwhile, is more of an authoritarian type, rather than authoritative, he has generally a problem with admitting anything wrong on his part in any relationship, so he always insists on being right, but because like I said I’ve always seen my Mum as more of an authority, and Dad wasn’t involved so much in our upbringing and was more the breadwinner, even if he did tell me things that I was supposed to somehow learn or believe in, I would usually take it with a wee grain of salt from quite early on, because Mum was always more right, and sometimes what they were saying was right down contradictory. πŸ˜€ It’s not that I didn’t take my Dad seriously, I do for example consider him my go-to expert in geography or the history of WWII, he was just simply a bit less of a role model for me. I remember that my Dad would often say very generalised, stereotypical things about people, from a very narrow point of view. For example, I can vaguely recall asking him about what does a philosopher do exactly, and he said something like that nothing really, philosophers just think all the time, about things that don’t need that much thinking anyway. I think I found it interesting that someone would do nothing but think all the time and about meaningless things and consider it a valid job, so I guess I must have been asking some more questions or something, anyway what I can recall very clearly is that at some point he said that a philosopher is someone with whom it’s really difficult to communicate. I don’t think I know any philosophers, but whenever I think about it now as an adult I find it funny, where did he even get that from? I’m pretty sure it can’t be the case or even if it often might be, it certainly isn’t the fact that someone is a philosopher that makes them difficult to communicate with, or maybe it’s just difficult for the other side to communicate with them because they have a different way of thinking. Anyway, things like these, my Dad has a lot of such assumptions. Often, when you’ll talk to him calmly without trying to impose your point of view, and try to get him to think on his own, he can see beyond them, but some are really deeply ingrained, and yes, that has a harmful potential, because stereotypes can be very harmful, but usually the main reason why I think it’s such a pity is because it makes his thinking quite inflexible, and his view of people must be rather uninteresting, while I think that people, as much as they are a pain to socialise with and totally regardless whether I like them or not, are interesting as such in their diversity and complexity.

How about you? πŸ™‚

Nansi Richards – “Beibl Mam” (Mum’s Bible).

Hey people! πŸ™‚

It’s actually a bit weird that I haven’t shared anything from Nansi Richards before, giving how renowned and skilled a harpist she was. Nansi Richards was born in Wales in 1888 and was an expert both in terms of Welsh triple harp, and Celtic harp, and all the pedal harps as well. She is also known as The Queen of the Harp, or Telynores Maldwyn. To me, when reading about her, she generally sounds like someone who must have had bags of character and truly enjoyed what she was doing in life. She was appointed the Royal Harpist to Prince of Wales and held this title until her death in 1979.

Question of the day.

Do you like to cook and/or bake?

My answer:

I thought I’d do a bit of a rambly post of this. Just so you know. πŸ˜€

Whether I like is one thing, whether I can is another, lol. Because my dexterity is out of kilter – mildly but enough that it does affect some areas of my life and functioning – I never really had any spectacular achievements in the culinary field, in fact it often was exactly the opposite but at least the perk of it is that it can get interesting. πŸ˜€ When we had such class at school which involved cooking or baking among other things (I’ll write about that a bit more in detail later) I always preferred to have a bit of distance to my lack of abilities in this field so would tell people that I’d rather allow my creativity to flow freely rather than have some damn recipe rule my brain and tell me what I’m supposed to do. Who cares if it comes out inedible, lumpy or something? It’s a piece of art so it would be a sacrilege if you tried to eat it anyway. And esspecially when baking, I would openly show my weird creations around the class to the great amusement of the other kids. It’s always been one of my coping strategies that I’ll either laugh at myself or things that are happening, or distract people from something I don’t want them to talk about/notice by making them laugh, but in this case I didn’t really have a huge problem with my lack of culinary abilities, I don’t think they’re necessary these days in the age of caterings, though are certainly extremely useful. Probably a factor influencing this was that these classes were generally not very competitive as the few other kids who took part in them with me had some form of learning disability, which for most of them didn’t affect their dexterity or coordination so that they didn’t have exactly the same problems as me and with the same activities, but had others, often more challenging ones, instead, and so if they were laughing that was not really in a mean way, and I even sort of liked entertaining them. I had also a very good relationship with the teacher, she was in fact one of those adults there with whom I had quite a good relationship and liked them, I know she liked me a lot as well, and she was often very supportive of me.

I do not either cook or bake independently and never have, but when I do get enough individual support and guidance with that, the results can be tolerable, but then again, I feel like it’s not really exactly my merrit then, but rather the person’s helping me. This is quite an interesting and to a degree even fascinating field (maybe not hugely fascinating like to a degree my languages are to me or some other things but it’s interesting for me to observe how people cook or bake especially when they’re particularly talented and how something they’ve had in mind or some recipe on a piece of paper develops into something very specific it’s a little bit black magic to me πŸ˜€ ). My Mum says cooking is all about chemistry and physics, which I think is very true, but might be just another reason why I find it as tricky and a bit abstractive as I do, also with all the proportions in recipes and all that.

Going back to that class thing, what it was in fact was a sort of fusion of art class with stuff like knitting, cooking, baking and other manually focused activities. I have no clue how you call it in English if at all, but in mainstream schools here in Poland, children have class which is called the same but they learn things like calligraphy or how to pass a bike licence or such. In our blind school, that class probably wouldn’t work out or even have much sense in its mainstream point, so I guess they must have adapted it to be something more suitable to our abilities and useful at the same time. It was more like what people my parents’ age had at schools during the communism period which was called practical and technical activities, or something like that.

So as you can imagine knowing the above about my coordination and culinary skills already, I was generally super lame at that subject, but the teacher was always very understanding of me and I always got B’s at the end of the year, though wondered for what. πŸ˜€ I liked the cooking and baking because we typically did some very yummy things but at the same time felt useless because rather than contributing to it as much as everyone else did, I was more likely to screw something up, possibly ruining everyone else’s efforts as well, or at least come out with bleeding fingers or something unless I got a lot of help, and even if the other kids wouldn’t have additional difficulties, they were still blind, and blind people even when they’re only blind, do need to at least be shown individually how to do some things if they’ve never done them before, so she couldn’t focus all her attention on me even in such a small class where there were only like 4 people or so. So even if I didn’t have particular problems with the sole fact that I wasn’t able to cook or bake, it was still quite distressing in that class, at first.

Until somehow one day, I guess it was Mother’s Day, we were making cards for our mums, and I wanted to include a poem on mine, and I came up with it myself and the teacher wrote it on my card. I’ve always considered myself much better at prose than poetry and I do like writing prose much more thann poetry, but she decided that my poem was great and witty and long and to my huge embarrassment showed it to my class teacher and everyone else who was in the teachers’ room must have heard it as well although it was just for my Mum, and she couldn’t get over it as if I wrote God knows what a masterpiece. And since then, we’d developed an unwritten agreement of sorts with her. She would help me greatly with all the technical stuff – not just cooking and baking but anything that I found more challenging to do by myself so basically almost anything in that class – or would do the whole job for me if it needed to be done well and quickly, or I wouldn’t have to do it at all if there was something else I could do, and instead I would do a lot of writing if there was any need, especially for poems because these were typically writings on cards or other occasional stuff. For example there was one boy in the class for whom I wrote poems for his aunt who was his main carer I believe and he always seemed to like it so much. Or I would write for school – Teacher’s Day, enf of school year, Christmas etc. – I can’t say it was something I liked a lot, because just like I said I don’t really feel very comfortable in the world of poetry either as a writer or reader (except of Vreeswijk and a few other poets), and I found especially the school poems quite an annoying chore, but at least I could rhyme well and make even verses which were even a bit witty sometimes which seemed to be enough for everyone so I was glad there was something I could do better than cooking and make myself kinda sorta useful. The only type of poetry I enjoyed writing, for myself, were some spontaneous, weird, long-winded, full of wordplay, immature- or black-humoured poems whose topics I found hilarious and which made my roommates laugh. I guess though what must have been most funny about them was the language, the way I wrote them, rather than what I was writing about, that’s at least how I see it now, the plots themselves were mostly rather immature just like I said.

The good thing about that whole writing thing though was that sometimes there were art competitions organised somewhere in the country, and our school often took part in such thiings, especially if they were for people with disability. And since art competitions are often also literary competitions at the same time and you can choose which form you prefer, and my teacher knew I’m better at literature than art, she would always encourage me to take part in such things and then I could do a bit of prose. While everyone else was making their artworks, I would be making up some short story and then dictating it to the teacher (as they had to be in normal print typically). I didn’t like the dictating part really because, well, you often change your mind about stuff while writing, and with dictation there isn’t really as much room for that, you have to form your sentences well from the start, know what you want to be happening next in the plotline so that the other person doesn’t have to wait for ages until your creativity strikes, and at the same time it also requires a lot of spontaneity and is a bit like stream of consciousness writing in my view, only more stressful because you have to be mindful of the quality. I don’t know why I simply didn’t write these things on the computer or something, but I guess there must have been a reason. But overall it was always an exciting experience and one such time my dictated short story must have actually turned out quite good quality to the judges, because it got a first place – it was a Bible-inspired contest and I wrote a story inspired by the parable of the prodigal son and based on a real life story from my family. –

When I was out of school, I asked Mum to teach me some basic culinary stuff. I also thought I’d like to be able to help her a bit, because my Mum is the only person who cooks and bakes in our house –
Zofijka now does some occasional cooking or baking but only when she’s in the mood really, although she’s extremely good at it when she does do something. – And I thought it could be interesting and that maybe now that I’d have my Mum’s undivided attention it would be easier for me to learn and practice and for her to actually teach me things than for my teacher. It wasn’t really as good an idea as I expected though, because having to instruct me and often help me with more complex things made meal preparations longer and actually my input didn’t help at all, but instead contributed to Mum having to spend more time in the kitchen. Plus she didn’t really have the patience or the skills to teach, which I guess is a common thing with people who are self-taught at something. Finally one beautiful day I was grating vegetables and cut my finger really badly, and that was the end of my cooking adventures practically. πŸ˜€

Still, because I feel a bit sorry for Mum, even though she hardly ever complains, I traditionally ask her whether she wants help when she’s making some food but that’s more of politeness or something rather than I actually expect her to need/want my help or think I could be helpful, she’ll always say no but I ask anyway I guess to show her that I appreciate her efforts and would help if I could, in case she needed it. Sometimes she does say yes and then we do something together but that’s when she’s really got the time and energy to spare.

Given all that I wrote above, I don’t really know which of these activities I like more as I have very limited experience of them, but if I really had to choose I think I’d go with baking, there’s something atmospheric about it.

Okay, your turn now. πŸ™‚

Ten Things of Thankful – #TToT. –

Today, after a long time of not doing this, I’m linking up with

Ten Things of Thankful

to list some things I’m grateful for, as a sort of follow-up to my earlier post about ways of showing gratitude.

Here’s the list of things I’m thankful for.

  1. Β Β  That we are all in good health, me and my family. I think that’s a huge thing to be grateful for any time. I’m not just talking Covid, but this, of course, too. It’s one of these things you typically only start to appreciate when something goes really wrong, so I’m trying to be grateful in advance.
  2. My room. It’s my recharge place and a place I feel very strongly emotionally attached to so I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have my own room. Especially that mine is really beautiful, cosy and Mishful. I got to particularly appreciate it yesterday when Sofi was having a party that I mentioned earlier today, but Misha and I could just lock ourselves here and be oblivious to all that.
  3. Great music and interesting books! I always make sure I’m not short on either and both these things are of tremendous importance for me every single week, making my life richer. Right now, I am listening especially much to Enya’s music – Enya was my very first major faza (or music fascination) and even though she’s more in the background now, still, every year, when it gets colder outside, I feel like listening to a lot of her music. –
  4. Everything to do with MIMRA (My Inner MishMash Readership Award). That I am able to do MIMRAs, that I have my Mum to help me out with them, as she always helps a lot and although she’s not my reader she probably deserves a MIMRA herself πŸ˜€ that I have my loyal and supportive blog readers, that I have some cool ideas for MIMRA this year (although it all still needs to be polished)… There’s so much to be grateful for about MIMRA.
  5. Kefir! A lot of people who aren’t really as huge fans of kefir as I am but do drink it sometimes might argue that it’s a distinctly summery drink. Well I drink it all year round and this week I’ve been drinking tons of it.
  6. My Mum yet again! For all the other things beyond MIMRA she does for me. I feel really grateful that we have such strong relationship and can talk about lots of things, and also that we have relatively similar views on a lot of things – would be difficult otherwise living together, so it’s really a big plus. –
  7. That we’ve been having pretty good weather this week. Today’s especially nice and sunny out there.
  8. My iPhone and all the stuff I can do with it that I couldn’t before I got it, and that I’ve learnt to use it despite the touchscreen challenges well enough. This week, I’m especially grateful for being able to play BitLife when I had not much constructive stuff to do, especially at nights, as my sleep cycle was all over the place this week because of migraines, but at the same time I had too little energy to actually do something more useful. I’ve lived about 6 lives in Bitlife now and I always bond so closely with the character I’m playing.
  9. All my penfriends, especially the ones with whom I’ve been writing for a longer time, their interesting emails, care, support, and all the conversations we have.
  10. And Misha!!! How come I didn’t put him higher on the list? Misha slept with me in my bed last night, I mean really in bed, not on the bed or in his bed on my bed but properly under the duvet beside me, which happens very rarely, and I loved it. I am also grateful for that he spends a lot of time in my room now during the days, sleeping in a basket on the windowsill, so he can look out the window, smell the fresh air, feel the sun and wind, and the radiator beneath it. Sadly the radiator itself is way too narrow for Misha, otherwise I’m sure he would have preferred sleeping there. I’m always so grateful for having such a beautiful Mishball in my life, I’m insanely lucky in this regard.

So, these are the ten things I’m grateful for this week.

What’s on your list? πŸ™‚

 

Question of the day (17th September).

Hi people! πŸ™‚

Have you ever had couscous, or do you like it?

My answer:

Yes, I have had it. But let me give you a bit of a backstory first as I guess it might be interesting. The first time I had couscous was around the time when I started primary or perhaps during nursery yet. I had an aunt back then, who wasn’t my real, biological aunt, but I always called her aunt anyway and will always think of her as such. And whenever I think about couscous, I immediately think of her. πŸ˜€ She lived very close to my boarding school, and at some point during nursery, when my Mum realised that I was struggling there and wanted to do something about it, she was looking for a flat or a room to rent there so that she could be closer to me and so that we could live there at least temporarily and some of the time during the year. The prices were really high though in that part of the country and there weren’t that many satisfying offers anyway, and so finally during her search my Mum phoned just another real estate agent, who didn’t have anything to offer for her but felt really moved by our situation as it seemed and offered that, since she lived so close to the boarding school, she could be like my aunt and visit me or I could visit her and perhaps having someone like this would make things easier for me even though it wouldn’t be my actual family. Mum was euphoric, though I remember being rather skeptical about the idea. But it actually turned out to be a great thing, we got along very easily and I grew very attached to her. It wasn’t quite like as if I lived with my family and it didn’t resolve all the problems, but it did make things easier. I absolutely adored spending time in her house which was very different from my ownn or from any houses I had been to so far. I visited her on weekends or we went out somewhere. When my Mum couldn’t be at stuff like different contests, Nativity plays or other such that I might have taken part in, she would often come and cheer me, despite she neither had to nor actually should as she was chronically ill and had something with her immune system so it was a bit risky. When my Mum came to me for the weekend or longer rather than took me home, she let us stay at her home upstairs so we didn’t have to continuously spend the time in the boarding school. She was extremely altruistic, to the point that you could consider it foolish or extremely naive. My family and her had a lot in common, though also at the same time she was very different from them which attracted me all the more to her, and also we both shared a passion for figurines, which I collected at the time, mostly porcelain figurines, and so did she, and we exchanged a lot of our figurines. Sadly though, this relationship didn’t last too long, because over time she felt worse and worse physically and had a lot of familial problems, so couldn’t see me as regularly as she used to, and finally, some two years or so since we first met, she moved out with her daughter to the city. I tried to keep in touch with her and called her infrequently but regularly when I was at home and could do it, as I felt very grateful for what she did to me and knew she was struggling with a lot of things and of course my family also encouraged me to show my gratitude towards her, and she continued to have more and more health issues of her own and also her two granddaughters were very ill. And then at some point we lost touch. Both me and Mum tried to find her, as it seemed like she changed her phone number, and we both wanted to show her our gratitude and perhaps help if possible, but from what we could find out it seemed like she might just as well have moved out somewhere else and we were unable to trace her. So it’s been very many years since we’ve last heard from her and this sucks a lot, as I’d like her to know how very helpful she had been to me, and I’d like to be able to reciprocate somehow. Since she was in her early fifties when we were in touch and as I said she was already struggling a lot with her health, I’m not even sure if she’s still alive.

Anyway, she was also a real foodie and quite sophisticated in general and, during my stays at hers, I got to try a lot of things that were totally new to me. Like the couscous, for example.

Interestingly, I found it absolutely delicious and I was a real fan of couscous. But when, years later, I asked my Mum to make it and she did, somehow it wasn’t quite as good, and my Mum found it even more unpleasant. My Mum is a fab cook and often makes various grains so I wonder was it just that it wasn’t so new and exciting anymore, or did my aunt make it in some special way that made it have a bit more character or have I just grown out of couscousmania. Whatever the reason, these days I find couscous incredibly bland, and so does everyone else here, so we don’t really eat it in our house. Perhaps we’re just not classy enough hahaha. I know that, because it’s so neutral, you can combine it with a lot of things, but either we haven’t combined it with the right things or it’s just not our thing because no matter the additions, spices and stuff the couscous itself always feels bland.

How about you? πŸ™‚

Blue Cafe – “Reflection”.

Hey people! πŸ™‚

It’s Mother’s Day here in Poland, so I thought I’d share a song that both my Mum and I like. It’s actually my Mum’s favourite song as of late. I completely didn’t associate this kind of music with her, but she likes this song, and when I heard it for the first time, I started to like it too. Generally our tastes aren’t incredibly similar.

Blue Cafe is a Polish band which I used to really hate, and am still not a huge fan of at all. They used to have a really awful vocalist, now they have a different one who at least can sing, but this song of theirs is one of the very few that I like and it always makes me think of Mum.

Question of the day.

Who in your life knows you best?

My answer:

I think I have to say my Mum. She knows a lot about me and I can be open with her about a lot of things. It’s not like we understand each other without words or anything like that, and she often says that it’s hard to figure me out because I “hide things” which is true, but still, she’s quite good at figuring me out. πŸ˜€

Who is it for you? πŸ™‚

Question of the day.

What personality traits do you share with your relatives/children?

My answer:

I have a tendency to be very suspicious of people just like my Dad, well, actually for him at this point it looks more like paranoia and I can clearly see that he’s getting worse with age so hope that I will not end up like that because it quite bites both for such person as well as perhaps even more so for everyone around. I am also a pessimist like him and generally our worldview is pretty similar, although my pessimism is more defensive than just plain grumpy. I think my sense of humour is also similar to his. We are both introverts and get overwhelmed with things quickly though each of us manifests it in vastly different ways. If the four temperaments theory makes sense, and I think it may, I seem to be something like a rather even mix of melancholic and phlegmatic, and I’ve got the phlegmatic part definitely after my Dad. I think I’ve also got my rational brain after him, like that despite I am generally rather dreamy and imaginative, I can be very down to Earth and sensible when need be, so that my imaginativeness can’t turn into insipid sentimentality and I always keep some distance to things. Although our types of intelligence are rather very different despite that. Ah yeah and I hate changes just like him and neither of us is particularly spontaneous, and we tend to have rather very consistent views on everything that we have views on. We both have some sort of anger issues but each of us of a completely different nature, because while I turn it mostly inwards unless there’s no room, he gets it all out on other people and has meltdowns like a baby, which also get worse with age and due to other factors as well.

Me and my Mum are both deep thinkers, are sensitive and emotional and very empathetic and caring, think way too much, like things that most people either don’t know or don’t like or don’t/can’t appreciate, are individualists, overly self-critical, good listeners, like our own company, though my Mum is generally an extrovert, she likes to share her emotions with other people and is very chatty and exuberant, but still at the same time she feels the need for being just with herself sometimes, is not dependent on others and calls herself wild, used to be very shy and doesn’t have many friends outside of family. We both have our passions that we are enthusiastic about, we are very intuitive and introspective, and I’ve got the melancholic part of my brain after her, as she’s sanguine-melancholic.

And I can be quite a catastrophist after my grandma, though she is much worse and her catastrophism is much more contagious I think.

My Mum also says I have a lot of traits after my grandad, and while we get along very well and he’s the only person who has always stood by me no matter what and he often seems to get me better than other people in my family, I don’t personally feel that we have much more in common in terms of personality than that we are both veeery introverted and nerdy loners, as my grandad has very high ego, and despite he’s always been amazing to me, throughout his life it’s been clear that he doesn’t have high empathy levels and has to be the best at everything and even when he is not, he still is. Oh yeah and I’ve got sleep paralysis after him which is not a personality trait but because of its severity and that it’s stuck to my brain since forever until now it has had some influence on who I am. πŸ˜€

Oh yeah, and my Dad says that I am as smart as my Godmother, which is not necessarily a compliment, not because my Godmother isn’t smart, she is very much, but because I am smarter than him and authoritarian folks don’t like that. I think we do think a bit similarly with my Godmother, because we both tend to overanalyse a lot of things and sometimes take them a bit too literally, but overall I don’t get along with her that well and find her slightly intimidating.

What does that look for you and your family? πŸ™‚

Question of the day.

What is the last phone, text, social media, FaceTime etc. conversation you had and with whom?

My answer:

As for a bit longer one, I was talking on the phone some hours ago with my Mum asking her if she could pop in to the chemist’s for me on her way back home as she was driving to a lot of places with my gran today.

You? πŸ™‚

My Inner MishMash Readership Award. And the winners are…

Hi people! πŸ™‚

So, the time has come. The time to reveal the winners of my brand new conception which is My Inner MishMash Readership Award (or MIMRA).

My Inner MishMash is an award that is planned to be confered every year before Christmas, to the three most involved, insightful and engaged readers of My Inner MishMash as a way of expressing my gratitude and appreciation for their presence on My Inner MishMash, and also simply as a way to have some more fun on here.

I’m super excited to officially announce to all the people reading this blog that this year’s winners are… *fanfares and drumrolls*

Meg of Why Does Bad Advice Happen to Good People,

Ashley Leia of Mental Health @ Home,

and

Carol Anne and her system Many Of Us of Therapy Bits

(lots of applause for the winners, please!).

Thanks so very much to all three of you for sticking by, it’s hugely appreciated! πŸ™‚ Also thanks to all the other involved readers of my blog, who I wasn’t able to award, as of course I can’t award everyone, but I hope you too do feel no less welcome at My Inner MishMash. πŸ™‚

The awards have been sent out earlier today, and should actually be with you in 3 days (much earlier than I supposed, they’ll be travellin by plane, just like VIP’s should πŸ˜€ I just hope the packages didn’t get mixed up at the post office, haha). I really hope you’ll find your awards enjoyable.

Some people like surprises, some don’t, but I figured I’ll give you all a peep into what our winners are getting this year as part of their award, since my Mum took pics anyway.

Merry Christmas From Misha

Content of the MIMRA packages

Content of the MIMRA packages

Misha is not included in the award, πŸ˜€ he goes to me as My Inner MishMash Authorship Award. Mum wanted me to stress, to make sure that you won’t have to face too much of a disappointment, that the small carrier bags you’ll find at the top of the packages aren’t part of the award either, they’re just a filler, but I guess why not, it could be part of the award, especially that it contains some excerpts of a very weird Polish magazine, so, who knows, maybe you’ll find it interesting. πŸ˜›

As you can notice, the award is very much Mish-themed, and so are even the chocolates, in a way, although that was actually a pure coincidence. Their name is MichaΕ‚ki (MichaΕ‚ek is a diminutive of a Polish male name MichaΕ‚, MichaΕ‚ki is the plural form, and Misha, well, after all Misha is a Russian nickname of Michael). πŸ˜€

Ashley, I’m sorry but your T-shirt is going to be white in the end, not black. I hope that is not a problem? Oh and I hope they will fit you guys well.

Also, last, but not least, HUUUGE thanks to my Mum for helping me materialise this crazy idea of mine, it couldn’t happen without her dedication, and she spent a lot of time running around getting things I needed for it.

I hope it will be at least as much fun for you, Meg, Ashley, and Carol Anne, as making those awards was for me, and thank you once again for being part of My Inner MishMash! ❀

 

Question of the day.

How big is your family, immediate and extended? Is one parent’s side of the family bigger than the other?

My answer:

I guess my family is pretty big, even my immediate family, for today’s standards. Apparently, families with just 3 children or more are officially recognised as “big” in Poland, and we have something called Big Family Card, which entitles members of big families to discounts on public transport or cultural institutions tickets and such. There is my Dad, Mum, me, my brother Olek and my sis Zofijka, and our cat Misha and dog Jocky, but they must cope somehow without Big Family Cards as they don’t travel at all so I guess that’s why they didn’t get them. As for my extended family, well my Dad has four siblings, and my Mum has three, and only one of my uncles on Dad’s side doesn’t have children, all the rest of their siblings do, so in total, on both my parents’ sides, only their siblings’ children/grandchildren, I have… let’s do some counting, it might take a while……… 23 cousins, if I’m thinking right, 27 if you count their spouses since they’re colloquially called cousins too. I think though that my Dad’s family is bigger overall, as his parents have both had many siblings, my gran had like 10 I guess. Or maybe I just have that impression that there is so many of my Dad’s relatives because I don’t know them quite as well as my Mum’s family. I lived with my Mum’s family for most of my life so naturally I’ve seen lots of her aunts and uncles and cousins and all visiting, if not us, then my grandparents, at least so that I know who’s who in theory, but if I’d meet my Dad’s cousin on the street, I don’t think I’d even recognise them, let alone know what their name is or what exactly is the familial relationship between us or what they do for living. My Dad knows all of them though and where they live and what they do, and all the complex affinities. They tend to have kinda unobvious nicknames that they go by, which adds to the confusion, I mean usually Polish nicknames from names are very obvious, but in my Dad’s extended family’s case, their real full names are often quite different from what they’re called, they have a talent for making up very harshly sounding diminutives and spoiling names that are quite pretty in their original full forms. πŸ˜€ I guess in a way this must be a Kashubian thing, as my Dad is Kashubian. Somehow though, I have an impression that while my Dad’s side is bigger, it consists largely of middle-aged to elderly people, unlike my Mum’s side where there are weddings and births happening relatively frequently all the time and there are children of all ages. But still, despite being smaller, my Mum’s family is big, quite interesting and spread all over the country, and a little bit abroad.

How about your family? πŸ™‚


Ina Wroldsen – “Mother”.

Hi hi people! πŸ™‚

So, this song, for me, is that kind of song which lyrics are just so ridiculously, creepily or comfortingly – depending from which angle you choose to look at it – relatable to you and describing you, your life and various situations you’ve been through, as if someone just broke into your flamin’ brain and wrote about your feelings. I hear so often that people say things like “Oh God, this song is just about me!” or such things, but to me it actually doesn’t happen very often, not to such an extent that I could literally sign myself with all my limbs under the lyrics, although I did have my personal song as a child and teen, which was “Evacuee” by Enya. This one is vastly different from Enya’s music, but no less relatable to me, maybe even more relatable to me in a way because, thankfully, I no longer have to relate to that child in “Evacuee”, and this song by Ina Wroldsen describes my feelings and my life and my relationships with people in so many more ways, not just a part of my life as it is with “Evacuee”.

Ina Wroldsen is a Norwegian singer, she is very popular in her country and in Scandinavia but also in other European countries, collaborating with many DJ’s and such, I am pretty sure that I must have heard her somewhere earlier before I discovered it for myself, as for example her song “Strongest” was a real hit. I discovered her for myself when I started to listen to more Norwegian music, largely by accident, but I never was very crazy on her, just another cool Norwegian artist out there, a bit too normal for me to like her really really much. πŸ˜€

Sometimes I focus on lyrics of my favourite songs, sometimes I don’t. Usually I focus more on those I like more, and when something is just cool but normal I tend to only focus on the music, since it rarely has very striking lyrics anyway. And so was when I first heard “Mother” last year. But at some point while listening to it I focused much more and thought: “Huh, these lyrics sound familiar”, as in, something I knew from my own experience and from my own brain. πŸ˜€ And, seriously, when I listened to the song thoroughly, just everything felt so so much like me. And not at all only in regards to the time where I was at the boarding school and struggling with a lot of stuff and wanted outa there, and not only even in relation to my own Mum. Some verses, that I’m sure were written more metaphorically, were about me in such an absurdly literal way that I just had to laugh, other were more metaphorical. I could find descriptions of my relationships with important people in my life in it and things I’ve been through, and pretty much my entire life in a way, but especially my childhood. It feels odd and crazy! And, as always when I find a song that is even somewhat relatable for me in any way, I am still so very curious what inspired Ina to write it, although I believe it was a piece written collaboratively with some other people. While it speaks to me in such an incredible, almost eerie way, I also think that most people are able to find something about themselves in it, as is the case with some songs. I hope you enjoy it anyway. πŸ™‚