Tag Archives: life

Among My Souvenirs

There’s nothing left for me
Of days that used to be
They’re just a memory
Among my souvenirs
Some letters sad and blue
A photograph or two
I see a rose from you
Among my souvenirs
A few more tokens rest
Within my treasure chest
And, though they do their best
To give me consolation
I count them all apart
And, as the teardrops start
I find a broken heart
Among my souvenirs
I count them all apart
And, as the teardrops start
I find a broken heart
Among my souvenirs.
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Why Does He Do That?

“YOUR ABUSIVE PARTNER DOESN’T HAVE A PROBLEM WITH HIS ANGER; HE HAS A PROBLEM WITH YOUR ANGER.
One of the basic human rights he takes away from you is the right to be angry with him. No matter how badly he treats you, he believes that your voice shouldn’t rise and your blood shouldn’t boil. The privilege of rage is reserved for him alone. When your anger does jump out of you—as will happen to any abused woman from time to time—he is likely to try to jam it back down your throat as quickly as he can. Then he uses your anger against you to prove what an irrational person you are. Abuse can make you feel straitjacketed. You may develop physical or emotional reactions to swallowing your anger, such as depression, nightmares, emotional numbing, or eating and sleeping problems, which your partner may use as an excuse to belittle you further or make you feel crazy.”

― Lundy Bancroft, Why Does He Do That?: Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men


This quote reminds me of my ex-husband who doesn’t only believe and did everything that has been said above he also thinks that being his wife means I have no right at all. He is the exact opposite of the saying what’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. He alone has the right to say and does everything his heart’s desire.

He spent a lot of times on the front of the computer tracking women, chatting them, meeting them and went on vacation with them but I was not allowed even to touch the computer. He changed its password every other day and forbidden my children to even breath a single letter of that bloody password to me. How’s that for unfair?

He disappeared for days not telling where he was and if I dare to ask him he will tell me it wasn’t my business. He drinks as if there is no tomorrow, violent beyond belief, rude, distant and utterly, utterly abusive not only physically but mentally as well. And the way he demanded sex from me was out of this world. As if I was created solely for that purpose. As a result, I cultivated an abnormal aversion to it and avoided being intimate with him at all cost and believe me it cost a lot.

Yet for him, I was the bad one. He often accused me of not behaving like a wife and not doing my duty. That I’m good for nothing and has nothing to offer to a man that I’m lucky he keeps me because no man will ever want a short fat and ugly someone like me. I will not survive out there he said. Without him, I will not make it.

It took me thirteen years to learn to give him a taste of his own medicine and to find out that eat your heart out is a wonderful motivation to survive. And another seven years to actually find the courage to walk out and leave him for good.

That was fifteen years ago.

Still, the nightmares continue. The damage that he caused I (and my children) will carry for the rest of our lives. The consequences of his cruel and senseless thoughtless actions will resonate through the years and will affect generations to come. The pattern is set.

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Friday Thoughts

“I don’t know if I’ve learned anything yet! I did learn how to have a happy home, but I consider myself fortunate in that regard because I could’ve rolled right by it. Everybody has a superficial side and a deep side, but this culture doesn’t place much value on depth — we don’t have shamans or soothsayers, and depth isn’t encouraged or understood. Surrounded by this shallow, glossy society we develop a shallow side, too, and we become attracted to fluff. That’s reflected in the fact that this culture sets up an addiction to romance based on insecurity — the uncertainty of whether or not you’re truly united with the object of your obsession is the rush people get hooked on. I’ve seen this pattern so much in myself and my friends and some people never get off that line.

But along with developing my superficial side, I always nurtured a deeper longing, so even when I was falling into the trap of that other kind of love, I was hip to what I was doing. I recently read an article in Esquire magazine called ‘The End of Sex,’ that said something that struck me as very true. It said: “If you want endless repetition, see a lot of different people. If you want infinite variety, stay with one.” What happens when you date is you run all your best moves and tell all your best stories — and in a way, that routine is a method for falling in love with yourself over and over.

You can’t do that with a longtime mate because he knows all that old material. With a long relationship, things die then are rekindled, and that shared process of rebirth deepens the love. It’s hard work, though, and a lot of people run at the first sign of trouble. You’re with this person, and suddenly you look like an asshole to them or they look like an asshole to you — it’s unpleasant, but if you can get through it you get closer and you learn a way of loving that’s different from the neurotic love enshrined in movies. It’s warmer and has more padding to it.”

― Joni Mitchell

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Somewhere In Between

I sit beside the fire and think 
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair

I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring 
That I shall ever see

For still there are so many things
That I have never seen
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green

I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people that will see a world
That I shall never know

But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before
I listen for returning feet 
And voices at the door. 

― J.R.R. Tolkien

 

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Calendar

“Time spins away like a mad spider’s web, cast open over the gulf of time and existence…the pages of the calendars tear themselves off the screen, like in old movies. The pages flip past before we realize. It’s astounding! I never remember traveling this quickly in the past.”

Here we are again, another year is about to end before it could really begin. It seems like only yesterday when we started writing 2018 on greeting cards, personal agendas, and journals and look where we are now, Christmas is just around the corner and Halloween is on the threshold following hard on the heels of Thanksgiving and after that, another year, a new beginning all over again.

What I have learned this year?

Well, after years of waiting for a definitive conclusion, I now have a clear diagnose of what is wrong with me. They say I have Fibromyalgia as a direct result of Ehlers–Danlos syndrome along with Rheumatoid Arthritis, Arthrosis and all the painful consequences of the illness. I have Celiac disease and Lactose intolerance and I have abdominal ulcer since I was sixteen.

I learned how to take care of succulents and Cacti. They are still dying on me on a regular basis but out of my 200 collections, only ten of them have perished due to TLC. One died today.

I also learned the importance and benefits of air purifying plants around the house. I suffer from chronic grass/pollen allergy the whole year through and I have a serious case of sinusitis. Since I have my green babies, I have yet to visit a doctor’s office. The only downside of indoors gardening is it is quite addictive. I found out that you can never have enough plants to satisfy your cravings.

What else I have learned this year?

I found out during my three weeks vacation in La Palma that I am not as daring as adventurous as I thought I was nor I love peace and quiet that much. Though my son said to me that the real reason why I don’t do any more risky endeavors is because I have already done it all before and it is long lost its charm since then. I blame it on old age.

I learned how to use make-up and dress up properly without losing sight of comfort which I value the most. I learned to budget and the importance of wants versus needs. I am still learning the art of minimalism in the true meaning of the word which means Minimalism is a tool to rid yourself of life’s excess in favor of focusing on what’s important so you can find happiness, fulfillment, and freedom that allows you to pursue purpose-driven lives.— Sounds great, right? Easier said than done believe me.

This year I discovered the value of learning to accept, forgive and love yourself. I hope to master the art of letting go of the past next year.

What about you?

Do you think that time does really fly?

Did you learn something new this year?

What is your hope for next year?

If you have the time, tell me. I appreciate other people’s stories.

Have a wonderful weekend and see you next week.

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The Balance Between The Bright Colors Of Humor, Serious Issues Of Identity, Self-loathing, The Possibility For Intimacy And The Love That Is No Longer Necessary.

“I hate solitude, but I’m afraid of intimacy. The substance of my life is a private conversation with myself which to turn into a dialogue would be equivalent to self-destruction. The company which I need is the company which a pub or a cafe will provide. I have never wanted a communion of souls. It’s already hard enough to tell the truth to oneself.”

― Iris Murdoch

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Between A Rock And A hard Place

“It can be difficult to leave a long-term relationship, even when our inner-wisdom tells us it’s time to let go. At this point, we can choose let go and endure the intense pain of leaving behind the familiar to make way for a new chapter in our life. Or we can stay and suffer a low-grade pain that slowly eats away at our heart and soul, like emotional cancer. Until we wake up, one day and realize, we are buried so deep in the dysfunction of the relationship that we scarcely remember who we were and what we wanted and needed to be.”

― Jaeda DeWalt

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