learning to ride the bike

to all you out there who are starting to believe i’m making a new career as a part-time schizophrenic, stop worrying. i’m not. i’m just not used to showing my feelings openly, to being so honest and to allowing myself to believe that my feelings are as important as anyone else’s.

about a year ago some things happened at gerby, the whole series of events ended with me sitting in the foot end of my father’s bed. i wasn’t really sure what had happened, i had a feeling the normal reaction would be to cry (that’s what my mum was doing out on the porch), but instead i was furious. with her, with my father and especially with myself for turning my back on them for a few minutes and allowing it to happen. my father looked so sad, sighing something about this not turning out too good. i think it was in that moment that we both realised this was his last time at gerby (he was around that time staying a week in the hospital and some days at home.) even though i was still furious, i started feeling tears burning in my eyes. my father must have seen it coming and intercepted by saying “you know what an admirable feature that is with you.. when everything else breaks down, when everyone around you falls, you stand strong. no, i mean it. come what may, you stand unbreakable.”

i kept my tears at bay that day and i kept them from him to the end. many were the times i silently wept by his hospital bed when he was asleep, but when he woke up i was all sunshine again. the few times i didn’t have time to get a grip of myself i would blame my allergies and we would sit there swearing over the fact that it had not been raining for ages.

alone i cried all summer but when he finally passed i stopped. okay, some occasional tears rolling here and there, but no really good cries. i felt all cried out, and anyway, there was a lot of practical issues to take care of.

it was not until new years that i broke down. or rather, started noticing in what terrible shape i was mentally. my back ache was worse than ever, i suffered from severe insomnia and the headaches weren’t from this world. as said, january was one long terrible monday.

february was already loads better, mostly due to me allowing myself to take space and time. and i took up practicing yoga again, something i hadn’t done in several years. after contemplating the whole month i came to the conclusion that what i really need is to get out of the basement, that should be my top one priority. as march begun i declared to my assistant that mark my words – when the month ends nothing will be the same. and by some weird law of attraction all the pieces started falling into place. i have seriously not had this much positive energy in years.

but i keep forgetting how fragile i still am. i keep thinking i’m invincible, but then one thing doesn’t really go my way and i fall into despair, thinking all this was too good to be true, now everyone will see what a fake i am. i’ve been so used to feeling frustrated and sad that i think that’s normal, feeling happy is just.. weird. but it’s a feeling you get hooked on. and you forget how long and hard you’ve been fighting to get this far… i became greedy. “mycket vill ha mer” we say in swedish. i wanted it all, and i wanted it straight away. not getting it was not what i had in mind and disappointment came knocking on my door. combined with a few stupidities i managed to pull off, my mood caved in.

i may be unbreakable when things get mad around me (yes, i’ve come to terms with that – keeping strong IS what i do) but that doesn’t mean i have a thick skin. having a stiff upper lip earlier doesn’t mean i can handle harsh words or being ignored. i really do wear my heart upon my sleeve and if my heart breaks, i break.

i may be strong, but i’m not as tough as you think.


One comment

  1. Fint skrivet Chia! Verkligen. *kram*

    Vi tycks vara väldigt lika du och jag. Skriver under det att när saker o ting bryter ner, då blir man stark. Men det betyder verkligen inte att man orkar stå ut med allt, eller att man skulle ha ett ogenomträngligt elefantskinn.
    Själv lättar jag på trycket på kvällarna innan jag går och lägger mig. Gråter ut en skvätt för mig själv så jag orkar vara “normal” igen när vi besöker pappa på sjukhuset nästa dag.

    Eller jo, visst lipar jag lite nu och då av hela situationen. Tårarna började trilla när jag kom till rad 6 i ditt inlägg.

    Vi måst definitivt ses snart och pusta ut lite.

    Vi hörs!

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