Tag Archives: Arts

I guess it’s time..

To get back to writing. I’ve been away for a while and have probably lost many readers. It’s alright though, this blog mainly serves as a diary where I can vent my fears and worries. My life has pretty much been in turmoil lately on many levels. I won’t go into detail, I’ll just say that sometimes life hands you shit and you just HAVE to deal with it, no choice in the matter.. and so I have been away from here, not knowing how to phrase what I went through (and am still going through).

There’s been this revelation inside me. I am not good at being alone. You know they say ‘it’s better to be happy alone than miserable with someone else’ ? I am not sure it has quite sunk in with me. I’d rather be with someone. This should open my eyes in a big way to the fact that I am quite uncomfortable on my own. I know it’s a confidence thing. I need a guy to tell me I look pretty and I am sweet and he loves me. I need to feel needed. I suppose there’s this hole inside me where I just don’t feel good enough and I crave desperately for someone to fill it. Say the magic words. Then I feel it. I feel loved and worthwhile.
I know, I know, it’s a problem. Right now I don’t even have the strength to deal with it.

I just wanna sit here, have someone say ‘you’re amazing’ and believe it.  It might get me through the dark, bleak winter ahead. Afterwards I might seek to change.

Not now. I can’t.

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Should we murder prince charming?

He was a doctor or a lawyer or a landscaper. Most of the time he’d be really tall and handsome with either brown eyes and dark hair or blond hair and the bluest eyes ever known to man. And he’d be single, kind of living a playboy lifestyle, a sort of bad boy involved with lots of women at the same time. That’s until he meets me, of course. Well, he actually meets the female lead in the romance novel but I always used to imagine she looked just like me – and then he’d fall in love, turn around his entire life, become a wonderful husband and doting father, all in a matter of 200 pages.

I was in my teens when I started reading this porn for the mind (that’s truly what it is, ladies). Boy is single, boy meets girl, boy and girl kiss passionately, boy messes up and makes girl angry, boy and girl make up and then finally make love as well. And they always make love, they don’t just go to bed. They make love in the most romantic way any woman can ever imagine. Porn for the mind.

Milano, Italy
Image via Wikipedia

It is, of course, a completely hopeless scenario. We women are never going to meet a man who is a total playboy on Tuesday and a loving father and husband on Wednesday. It just doesn’t happen.  Perhaps that’s why these novels sell so well – we need this guy to exist and we need to pretend that we meet him and change his wicked ways by our beauty and attractiveness. We need this escape from reality even if it means through a silly story.

And what about Cinderella whose life becomes so much better because she meets the prince who carries her away on the white horse? What about Barbie who seems really obsessed with looking pretty and skinny and meeting a sexy man? We’re sending a really weird message to little girls: Being pretty is important if you want to be happy. Where is the heroinne who isn’t hung up on looks and who studies to be a lawyer or a doctor or a landscaper? The independent chick who doesn’t need this prince to come and save her.

I’m older now and yet I carry with me certain ideas from when I was a little girl and a teenager. For example, my partner can tell me many times that he loves me no matter how I look and he loves me for the person I am. I still secretly think he wants a slim pretty woman (the woman from the romance novel).  I still – partly – carry with me the thought that a woman is not really whole without a man (I got that from watching hours of Cinderella cartoons).

Seriously, we need to tell girls and young women: Study hard, be proud of yourself, rely on yourself, be a strong woman and then find a man if you want. Don’t wait for some dark-eyed prince to come riding into your life and give it all meaning. What do you think? I know men are sometimes frightened of really strong, independent women – men need to be needed for something, I truly believe that. So – if we become strong women who don’t need men for anything other than to be a pleasurable part of an already nice life – are we killing romance? Are we going against what nature intends? Are we turning men into puppies that we can walk and cuddle whenever we feel like it?

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Reba made me smile today

It seems that feeling better and getting my spirits up also means less writing! I mustn’t stop writing, though.. it is part of my healing process. I have had a busy day and I have enjoyed it so much. Usual household chores, laundry, dishes, cooking but most of all messing around with Photoshop (see photos in earlier post).


It surprises me a little that I can be creative when things seem so chaotic. My mind is an absolute mess! Yet I could tear myself away from it all, sit down and play around with photos and colors and shadows and light. I had the best time. Not for a second did I think about the fact that I am depressed. So this day was heaven sent, a most needed break from all the worries.

It’s gonna be hard to keep myself busy all the time but I am not even gonna think about it tonight. I will just soak in the happy feeling, the bliss a woman gets from being creative, kicking off her shoes and listening to some Reba whilst drinking an orange Bacardi Breezer. No really, I did.

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Instead of throwing out the old magazines..

I decided to be crafty and make a collage. I haven’t found a place to put it yet but I must admit to being rather proud of the outcome.

1st way towards healing: Write my silly little ass off.
2nd way towards healing: Be crafty, use my little silly hands.

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It’s time for me to take care of me

Being depressed and anxious is a fever of the mind. It’s the mind’s way of saying ‘Okay let me shut down for a while because I am in crisis mode, be back later’. Kind of like when the body runs a fever and we need to stay in bed for a while. I can’t begin to write down everything that has happened in my life over the past few months and I wouldn’t want to either, except if this blog was in ultra private mode. That’s the hard part about writing my way out of misery and using words to open up and clear my view: Other people are involved in my life and they don’t necessarily want to be dragged into these pages, their words and deeds available for everyone to scrutinize and comment on. I get that. Part of me wants to write ‘here’s what has happened’ and make a long list but suffice it to say that my life is not what I thought it was and I have suffered losses on many different levels lately.

I am trying to deal with everything from minute to minute and right now I am in a state of confusion and anger. Yesterday the pain got so intense that I just wanted everything to end. I had this scary attitude that nothing matters, who cares, etc. etc. Frightening.

This morning I am in a different place. It still doesn’t mean anything that I can hear the birds singing, that the weather forecast promises a heatwave soon, that I might feel better if I walk around town (again.. for the millionth time). Who cares? But this morning I matter. Me. Time to take care of myself and not consider if it hurts anyone else.

I am going to start writing a lot more. It seems to bring a bit of comfort that my words reach some stranger out there. Solitude broken.

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