Putting Pieces of My Life Back Together

I had a very strange experience today. I went to visit my grandmother, nothing special about that, it’s usually a not very interesting hour or two of talk about everything and nothing. Especially since my mother stopped talking to her parents and I got the feeling they actually don’t know how to approach me. Well, this afternoon was different and very different and it changed my life a lot, to be honest. I think, that I’m finally putting pieces of my life back together.

For some background here, several years ago, my grandparents decided to give their cottage to their son. They just told that to my mum and expected her to accept it without any problems. My mum didn’t accept it, she was hurt, because she felt it as another thing in a long line of neglect. She felt that she was robbed of her second home and that her brother was the preffered one, something she had felt her whole life. And my uncle had some problems of his own at the time…he still has. So they argued, very badly, and she cut her family out, pretty much completely. It was a time my heart, my soul and my life shattered into pieces so small I thought I would never be able to put them back together. I thought my family was loving and close, but suddenly it wasn’t so and my life changed, a lot. I no longer believed in happy families and I didn’t know what to do. I crashed the floor harder than I ever thought possible. My mum told me some things about her childhood and teenage years that explained a lot about her having difficulty expressing feelings for me and my sister and whole lot of stuff. I wanted to ask my grandparents for years, how they felt and feel. Don’t they mind that we aren’t a family anymore? But I was terrified and didn’t know how to start such a conversation. Today, I got the answer. It wasn’t easy and it was painful, but it opened new door for me.

I came to my grandmother and we talked as usual. My life, my future plans, my new tattoo and everything was as usual until my college fee came across and I mentioned I have a bit of reduction for health reasons and she asked what health reasons. So I decided not to pretend anymore and just told her about my problems, about my depression and anxiety. She told me some stuff my mother told me, that all people have problems and so on, but she was also more understanding. She said that probably nobody really understands if they don’t have the experience, which is more than my mum ever said. And then she started talking, a lot, about my mum and their problems. She gave me the point of view I needed so much. I won’t go in many details, because it was personal, but I understood, I felt, how hurt she was. She and my grandfather were trying to do the right thing as they saw it and my mum just cut them off. I feel bitter… I understand both of them, both their sides, I know they are both hurt and yet I cannot do anything. I cannot tell one or the other to talk to the other side. They are grown-ups…but it hurts to think that my grandmother might die and never feel that her daughter loves her. And I think she does, that’s why she’s always so mean… And I wonder, why life has to be so complicated… I wish to fix this, but I can’t, I can’t tell them to just talk to each other, when both feel they did nothing wrong.

I also told my grandmother, how I felt about it, that it hurt me how things fell apart. That we were happy family and suddenly we weren’t. That I was confused and that it still hurts. That I’m afraid of my own wedding, because I’m worried that they’ll argue there. That it hurts that I can’t invite all my family, because my mum would literally kill me, if I invited my uncle and aunt. Or she would refuse to go. She said so when she thought I’m thinking about it. Well, not the killing part, but she was pretty shocked… I’m the last one to defend my mum, because I know how difficult she can be. I know she has hard time admitting her mistakes and she remebers every single bad thing someone told her or done to her. However, I do get her, I get her point of view as much as I get my grandma. Her daughter just cut her off, she doesn’t call and doesn’t care, she’s acting like she’s not interested, and all for some piece of property. My mum sees it differently, but again, I don’t want to put myself in the middle of this.

Weird thing is, I talked about the real reasons I quitted my job last week and about the real things I want to do with my life. I was open about how her I about what I felt and I wasn’t judged… My grandmother listened to me and even acted like she understood! Did she really? I don’t know, but she was at least trying to be supportive, she listened to my fears about my future, my problems, I told her honestly why I have problems connecting with my sister and for the first in looooong time, someone from my family actually listened. Really listened. Perhaps not agreed and I didn’t agree with everything she said, but she did listen! And I realised one thing, not only is my mum very much like her mother, even though she don’t want to admit it, but I’m very much like my grandmother. And this day, maybe, was a beginning. The day we both might be able to put our lives back together. I feel so, not as the child I used to be, but as an adult woman. It hurts to let go of past illusions, but it feel lifting to get this new relationship. I decided today to try and give this a chance. Call my grandmother more often, talk to her when she’s back in town and just try. It’s worth the effort, if I can put my life back together. It won’t ever be the same. I will always feel hurt at my boyfriend’s family parties, where they are all happy and together, but I have chance. A chance to have someone in my family, who gets me or at least tries to. And who supports me openly, with all her heart. Because that’s what my grandmother told me, that she loves and that she will support me if I ever need anything.

I hope I shed some light into her life today and that we gave each other hope that at least the two of us together can have a realtionship. I still feel confused about my feelings and not sure what to think, but at least there’s hope. A hope I might be able to put myself and my life back together.

Wearing a Mask

What does it feel to live with depression? Mostly, it feels like wearing a mask. I have worn it most of my life and only recently put it down, occasionally. I have learnt to act very well, for the sake of the people I love.

For me, it speaks volume what my mum said when I told her about my problems a year ago. She was surprised, she never suspected anything. Why should she, I made the effort not to let her know. On surface, I was normal girl, I wasn’t super popular, but I had some friends, I was a good student and daughter, there was nothing wrong with me, right? Well, there was, a lot. I don’t remeber how many times I have hid my feelings, how much strenght did it take not to show anything. I learnt to cry silently, not to wake up my sister or anyone, I learnt to take a few deep breaths before entering home, to calm down and look happy. When I didn’t understand what was going on with me, I didn’t know how to express it and when I knew, I didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially my parents.

I felt… guilty. Guilty of being unhappy when I had almost everything. My parents are not rich, but they have always done a lot for me and my sister. They let me go on pretty much every foreign trip with school, they even let me go to London on my own and I was barely eighteen! Yes, my sister studied there, but I spent all they on my own, travelling through the big city, I have been to England about five or six times so far, I have been to Spain and to Netherlands also. Yes, my parents say it’s because they supported my sister in London, so they had felt guilty of not allowing me something similar, but still… I really had nothing to complain about, yet I wasn’t happy. Most of my teen years my sister was in London, so crying in bed was possible, since nobody could hear me. I hurt, badly, I felt lost and ashamed of myself. I couldn’t tell my parents, I was afraid of hurting them and I didn’t want to hurt them, at any cost. At since I paid the cost, it was ok, right? I felt that I deserved it, I was ungrateful person, so I deserved the pain.

I still wear the mask, very often. I don’t want to be a nuisance. I know people have their own lives and they don’t need me to add to their problems. The only problem is that it turns againt me sometimes. Recently, my partner told me he has felt like I don’t let him be close, I don’t let him help me with anything. Sadly, that is true, my quest for not being a burden has taking interesting twist with me rather doing everything than to ask for help. So after being together for almost five years, my boyfriend still feels that I don’t let him close to me and I don’t let us be a team. The things is, I don’t know how to do this. I’m afraid, that if I let him close, he finds me too difficult to live with and leaves me. Pathetic, right?

I honestly don’t know how to get from this circle, sometimes I wish to be literally invisible not to stand in anyone’s way and I would appologize for asking even something important. I don’t speak about worries or wishes, I would do anything to make people happy. Because most of all, I’m afraid to let people see me, because I’m convinced, that they would leave me. So I wear a mask and I’m really good at it.

To My Dad. You Will Probably Never Read This, But You’re the Best

I’m getting more crazy than usually… Or more drunk. Or something in between or something totally different. I just saw new trailer for Star Wars VII and it just brings so many memories. SW is one of the things I share with my dad, but it also made me realize how I don’t know him. Don’t worry, my dad is still alive, but still. Just this past year I slowly learned to tell my parents that I love them. But I also learned, that I don’t know my parents. Especially my dad.

When I was pretty young, he started working in another city, commuting there for better job and better pay; my mother was pretty much the “boss” of our family since then. But my dad has always been the one to support my sister and me in our reading habbits, we have lot of fantasy and especially science fiction at home. We had had Lord of the Rings way before the movies, before it became fashionable, the same with Hobbit. My sister got some big books full of illustrations inspired by Tolkien years before LOTR came to cinemas. And yes, I loved Legolas way before Orlando Bloom :-).

I remember being really young (I guess about four five years old) and my dad watching some movie, on VHS, rented, so yes, it was yeeaaars agoooo. I really liked some whistling robot, but my dad told me I was too young for this movie and he would rent it again when I would be old enough. Yes, it was Star Wars, but I don’t know what episode, four or five I guess. I remember watching the movies years later on TV and my classmates laughing at me for my teenage crush on Han Solo, because the actor is like generation older than me. Strangely, most of my favourite actors are generation or more older (Sean Bean, Alan Rickman, Jeremy Irons…and that’s just some…). But yes, I fell in love with SW, I think episode two is the one I went to see with my dad. I also remeber seeing episode three two times in cinema, but no longer with my dad.

When I heard the title melody tonight I just cried. It’s something connecting me to a man I wish I knew better, but don’t know how. It’s like me saving his old guitar, out of tune and not really repairable, but it’s something his, something I don’t want to give up. I wish to have the courage to talk to him. I love him, he’s my dad, but I know so little about him. Crazily, my fiancĂ© is a lot similar to my dad. Crazy, or common, I don’t know. One day I will be watching SW and crying, because I will remember my dad and all this. SW will always mean my dad, always.


Dad, you probably won’t never read this, but I love you. You’re the best dad I could ever wish for and I’m so proud to be your daughter. Love you Dad.

Moving To The Future Through My Past

Few days ago, I went through my first diary. It was…strange. I laughed and I cried. I laughed because I was just such a typical teenage girl! So much of the entries is about boys, writing about this one and that one and how I like this guy and next month I’m so in love with other, it just made me laugh like crazy. But I also cried, because I already found there this sad and hurt little girl, that is still in me. The girl, who felt lost, lonely, not loved by her parents, always feeling not good enough, not pretty enough. The girl who grew up mentally just too fast, facing problems she wasn’t ready to face. My boyfriend told me not to read it, when it upset me. Well…it does upset me and I still have three more diaries to go through. It won’t be easy, but I need to do it. I need to accept what was, the good and the bad. And although there were entries that saddened me, I also realized, how happy I was, with my amazing best friend K. and everything. We went through problems, sure, but after reading just the first diary I felt how blessed I was to have her with me, I remember laughing over stupid things, talking about boys and sexy actors… I sort of blocked my memories of my teenage years, because all I remembered was the pain and the bad things, but while reading just this one diary I realized, that although there were many bad things, I was still pretty happy girl.

As I laughed and cried through memories of my early teenage years, I realized one thing. I need to do this, I need to go through those years again, to embrace it. I can’t just cut it out of my memory, if I want to move forward, I need to accept what was, with all the good and bad.

Because it also gave me strengh. This whole year I felt that I need to find myself, that I lost connection with who I really am. Then I read my past, all my dreams… I wanted to change the world, to be someone, I believed in myself! I just wonder, where all that went. I burried it inside, because I persuaded myself that I’m not good enough. I want to be that girl again, because that’s who I am. So I need to go to my past in order to look into the future. It’s going to be crazy and it’s going to be sad, but I believe it will be for the best. Wish me luck with it!

In Autumn

I know I really take lot of time to write. It’s not as easy as I thought it would be. Which is weird, because I have so many things to talk about. The problem is, I just don’t like autumn and I’m tired most of the time. I like summer, the weather is nice and warm, the sun is shining, I have lot of time to enjoy it… And them comes autumn… The weather gets gloomy, it often rains, I look from a window and I see temperature inversion or fog or whatever it is, so there is just seamless gray sky and I just feel like getting back to bed and sleep all the time. It has got better these past few weeks, but I actually spend lot of time sleeping in the beginning of October. My school started, well my two schools started, lot of things changed, I began to live with my boyfriend and I guess it was just all too much. I talked about it with my psychologist and she said that it’s normal for people with depressions to feel this way. Sun is very important for us and the way we feel and when it’s gone most of the time, people like me can be affected a lot by this. I like autumnal colors, I like it when the sun si shining and I go through a park and there are colorful leaves everywhere…, but most of the time, there is just this gloomy day, when it never becomes really light out, just some sort of half-day.

Autumn is also the time of year, when lot of bad things happened to me, so I get nervous, afraid there will be something bad again… I wanted to kill myself some years ago in autumn, everything was just all too much and I didn’t have the strenght to go on. It was also the time when I had my dance lessons and felt totally ugly and unwanted and ended up with the worst dancer in the group for the last lesson. I guess I was too complicated for people around me, because most of them just thought I’ m too touchy or closed. Not all of them, there were people really supporting me, but only just few of them.

My grandaunt died in autumn, two months before my 18th birthday. Those birthdays are very important in my country, because you become legally adult. And I hoped to get closer to her and I thought that being adult would help. I saw that her relationship with my sister got closer when she became adult and I hoped I would get the same. But I never got the chance. My grandaunt was heavy smoker and she fought intestinal cancer for some years. She lost it and died in sleep in hospital. I still remember all this so vividly, seeing her ICU with all those machines around, visiting her at the cottage when she was sick, then learning about her death. I still feel pain and want to cry when I think about this. I desperatelly wanted to be close to her and envied the adults around me for having better relationship with her. I never got the chance, I will never have that chance again. I just hope I will stop hurting for this one day. When I look back, I realize how much I needed someone to understand, to talk about this, but I couldn’t talk about it with my family. I talked about my aunt with my friends and I know they did their best to understand and help me, but it wasn’t enough. I don’t blame them, I didn’t know how to talk about all those things I felt and I guess they didn’t know what to say. I don’t thing I really cried for her a lot. I did, inside, but I was so used to hide my emotions I don’t think I cried real tears a lot.

There are more things that happened in autumn, like some of my “friends” bullying me and so on, but I guess my grandaunt and the terrible weather is why I don’t like autumn. I know I have to let go of these things, I just don’t know how. I hope one day, I will be able to do it.

At my Psychologist’s

Well, writing about my illness is not as easy as I thought it would be. I thought I was really ready and with lot of things to say, but when it comes to action, I just get stuck. But I still want to keep going, it’s worth it. I had some really bad moments these past two weeks or more. I wanted to sleep all the time, I didn’t want to talk to people, I missed school just to be asleep…

Fortunatelly for me, I had an appointment with my psychologist on Wednesday. Fortunatelly because talking to her helped me a lot. She is really good, I like her. She pulled me from the worst this spring. I hadn’t seen her for about two, three months as she is in the town where I study and I hadn’t been there most of the summer. We talked and I cried. Some things are still good, my parents seems to accept my depressions, or at least partially, I don’t cut myself anymore and so… But I was so depressed and empty these past weeks that I got really scared that I will never be able to see the light again. I mean, this spring was so great for me, I changed in so many ways… and suddenly I felt none of that had happened.

We talked a lot, well I talked, she asked questions. We talked about me being unable to approve of anything I do. I know I’m good at lot of things, objectively seen. But I just don’t see it. I mean, I know it in my head, I just don’t feel it. She told me that I need to find a way to be able to praise myself, to appreciate myself. I honestly don’t know how to do it. Everytime I try to be proud of myself, I start feeling guilty. I don’t even know why, I guess I feel like it’s something wrong. We talked about the roots of me being unable to praise myself and as I had thought about the reasons many times before, I knew it. I was always pretty intelligent and I never had some big problems with school. And as my sister was the same, my parents never praised us. Almost never. I remember always being so proud of having good mark, but my parents didn’t notice. They noticed when I had worse than one (in my country, marks usually are one as the best and five as the worst), they asked me about my friend’s marks and why I wasn’t as good as them. I always wanted them to be proud and they never were. Well, they probably were, they just didn’t say it, they started when I was older, but then I didn’t care anymore. Well, I did care, but it was too late for that little girl inside me, nobody cared, when she was good. I admit when I talked about this, I cried, it hurts me. I know my parents love me and I know they always did. I know that my mum didn’t learn the “right relationship” at home and she wasn’t able to learn it for us. But that little girl inside, she tries to understand, but her heart it still wounded. I don’t know how to let it go, what to do. I know I have spend most of my life trying to make my parents proud, to make them say it. When it comes now the adult me is happy, but I still feel like it’s too late. It feels so heavy. Is it wrong of me to want something I can never have? Probably… At these moments I just fel so lost and don’t know where my path is. My psychologist says I am on my way and that I know where to go, I just don’t see it yet. I just hope she’s right, because right now, I’m just scared and tired. I just want to be happy, why does it have to be so hard?