they say men are from mars and women from venus. sometimes i wonder which goddamned planet i’m from. and if any part-time comedian tries to say uranus i urge you to bugger off, i’m out of funny at the moment.
my whole life, especially these last twelve months or so, i’ve been told how strong i am. what an admirable feature it is. how i will always survive. how no-one can get to me. how scary i sometimes seem. “keep strong, it’s kind of what you do”…
bullshit. don’t you see i need to break down sometimes? that i need to feel like the weak one? that i need to be taken care of? but noo… “you’re chia, nothing can break you”.
i’ve had about a handful of sick-days the last six years. a couple when having a high fever and sinusitis after the international weekend in amsterdam -07 and one when being sick to my stomach first time in 18 years -09. a few “i’ll be in a bit late, feeling a possible flu”-mornings here and there, but in the afternoons i’ve been here without hesitation again. i admit, i did take more than a few days off to spend time with my dying father, but when he finally passed, i was away two days; one to go help with all practical arrangements and one to attend the funeral. oh, and yes, one to attend the estate inventory meeting some months later. other than that, it’s been all stiffer up lip, because that’s the way my father wanted it to be (or at least what i thought he might have wanted.)
i have tried to live so that i wouldn’t have to apologise for anything i say or do (and even if i know i should’ve done it sometimes, i haven’t – it has been one of my biggest weaknesses, the inability to say i’m sorry.) i’ve rather gone home to cry by myself than admit that someone has hurt my feelings. i’ve rather been the funny friend than actually admit i fancied someone. etcetera etcetera etcetera. you get the picture. guess that’s what years of being bullied in school does to you… oh yes, i was somewhat bullied once upon a time. in the promised land of jante and tarja halonen you should fit in – not stand out. you’re not supposed to know how to read before the teacher says you do (it’s considered rude to question why they try to teach you A, then O, then R when the alphabet starts ABC*) , you’re not supposed to draw your own conclusions (unless the teacher has told you so in history class, you’re not to know that there has been two world wars), you’re not supposed to have an ounce of intelligence (you would not believe the amount of shit i had to take after being moved to second class after only two months in first) and you’re certainly not supposed to have bright red hair, be tall and not speak with the local dialect. add a father that’s a somewhat conservative politician in the midst of an otherwise socialist village and the picture is complete.
so i guess i shouldn’t be surprised. i can’t pull off being normal. i can’t NOT stand out. and i can obviously not pull off being a sweet venusian. i guess my friend was right all those odd years ago when she accused me of being untrue to my gender. i guess the guys were right last summer when they assured me that i could never be the typical needy, clingy, moodswingy woman, even if i tried to.
well boo-hoo, f*ck that sh*t. i’m sick and tired of it all. these days i do know how to apologise if i’ve said or done something to offend someone (even though i continue to at least try to think before i speak,) but i will sure as hell not apologise for my feelings. it would be the same as to apologise for my mere existence. and if wearing my heart upon my sleeve in fact suddenly makes me clingy and moodswingy – learn to live with it. and mind you, you were warned – i told you march would be the month of change.
* it was so that the morons could learn how to spell mor är rar (mother is sweet) whilst i was busy reading a book..