Proud

I've read my blog. Started from the very beginning, which was spring 2010. And I've just read through the academic year of 2010/11. That was a difficult year for me. So much happened that year that I still struggle to understand. There's still so much pain and confusion lingering from that year. And reading those old blog entries I am reminded of how far I've come. I'm reminded of how dark I used to be. How dark the world seemed. And how lonely I was. One of the best things I've done in my life, and one of my proudest moments, was when I realised that it wasn't normal to feel like that and I went to get help. I started seeing Pat. And we talked. Mostly I talked. And I learned so much about myself. How I function. Some of those realisations have been with me this year. And I still ask myself sometimes "what would Pat say?" Because I have been terrified of falling back down. I have fought so hard to get this far. To not see the world in shades of black. I used to balance on the edge every minute of every day. And in the evenings I would curl up on the floor in my room and fall head first into a bottomless pit. I had to fight to get up. And after I did life became, not a dance on rainbows, but it became good. Summer of 2011 changed me. And returning to Nottingham in September 2011 I wasn't the same person. And that year. September 2011 to September 2012. There are no words for it. Best year ever. And I still had dark moments. But they were few. And when they came there were people there. People I could message. People I could see. People to hang out with and do random stuff with. Today those are my closest friends. I hope you know how special you are.

It is also because of you I have managed to stay afloat this year. I thought I would fall back into that darkness. But I am proud of myself. Because while life is difficult. More difficult now than ever before. It's not like that. It's not darkness and cold and loneliness.

I've come a long way. And it's good to be reminded of that. I am proud of myself. And I think Pat would be too.

My day

Today is the first time since 2008 that I'm home for my birthday.

By home I mean my parents house in Skövde. 

The house that has been 'home' my whole life,

regardless of if I've lived here or not.

I've lived more of life in other places than this beautiful house,

but this is where I get that feeling of 'home' when I open the door.

It's nice to get to be here today.

And to have a traditional birthday, with the grandparents,

and lots of cake.

I also got a feeling of Notts as I talked to two of my lovely friends over there around 1am.

Which was midnight over there, which meant I got some birthday wishes from over there too.

That was a great start to this 25th birthday of mine 

(now that I've reached it 25 doesn't seem that old anymore)

Now I'm going to meet up with the best person there is.

My beautiful, amazing best friend.

We're going for coffee.

Like we did last year on my birthday.

It's going to be a good day.

Things to spend money on

I had yesterday off,

that meant:

no reading for classes

no reading for essays

no writing essays

no visits to the library

no visit to campus

no feeling guilty about not doing any of the above things.

Instead,

I went into town.

And yes, I went shopping crazy.

The best thing I bought, by far,

were a pair of red jeans.

I L.O.V.E them.

They are definitely one of the best things I have spent money on since I returned here after the summer,

just losing by a small margin to my tatoo,

which I also love.

And the good thing with that is,

that unlike my new, wonderful pair of jeans,

the tatoo will last me a life time.

The jeans, sadly enough,

probably won't.

The jeans are from Zara, as is this photo.

Right now

I was going to write about it,
how it is right now.
How it's been good for a while,
but how it feels like my brain is catching up with me.
The evil part of my brain that is.
My life right now,
revolves around three things.
Lectures.
Essays.
Society I'm the president of.
So in a way,
I guess my life revolves around one thing.
Uni.
And it's getting to me,
I can feel it.
I want to breathe.
To relax.
But I guess I can do that when I graduate.
It's scary though,
that it's getting to me.
Not just that I'm stressed,
but that it gets into my head.
In the worst way possible.
And the solution?
Bury myself even deeper in work,
and pretend it's not happening.

Yeah, that might not be helping...

Travelholic

I'm starting a new 'topic' or whatever you want to call it. Everyone who knows me, knows that I travel a lot. A friend of my mum's told me this summer that they sometimes play "Where is Lisa now?" at the dinner table. And it's strange. Because I never think of myself as someone who has done a lot of things. Or as someone with a lot of experience. In fact, I usually feel pretty unexperienced. But then, when people tell me how ridiculous it is that I'm only 24 and have been to 26 countries it kind of hits me. I'm a travelholic.

It's not necessarily a good thing. I've been told that it's a fear of commitment. That by travelling I don't have to create long term relationships. And I know already from the beginning that I am going to 'lose' my friends, rather than walking around waiting for them to fall off the face of the earth for no good reason what so ever.

So yeah. I travel. And move. I love it. And I hate it. Because how amazing would it not be to just be home somewhere? To have a place you feel at ease with. A place where you can see yourself living for years and years and years. Not feeling the need to have to fly away ever again...


But anyway. I'm going to start writing more about travelling. Anything that involves travelling. Because honestly, I can't live without it. For better or worse.


I took this photo of a baby albatross on Isla Española in the Galapagos Islands on the 12th of December 2007.

To do, or not to do.....

There's a clash.
A class I want to take.
My weekly meetings which keep me a float, or at least did so last year.

If I say yes to the class, I might not get new appointments until spring.
But if I say no to the class, am I letting this dictate too much of my life?

Questioning

I feel stupid.
Sitting here counting not days, but hours.
I'm supposed to be living the dream,
the African dream.
My dream.
International NGO work.
Instead,
I'm counting hours.

414. and 30 minutes.

FYI

I withdraw at the sight of danger,
or so I've been told.
I'm too sick of the pain,
to even allow me to go that far.

And yes,
I miss you every second of every minute of every day.
And that will never change.
Because in my heart I know that you should be here.
And I see a giant black hole where you used to be.

I move on natural instinct,
or so I've been told.
Fight or flight is my way of life.
But I'm too tired to fight,
so I flee.
In the other direction,
as fast as I possibly can.
Because I'm walking on the edge,
and have for quite a while.
And probably always will.

Just FYI.

Rambling

It's never easy to reshape the way you think.
You're way of thinking is who you are,
for better or for worse.
To re-learn how to think is a tiresome adventure,
a path I'm not sure I'm ready to walk.
But I don't think I have any other options.
It's like learning a new language,
without a proper book to learn from.
And I hate learning new langauges,
I love knowing them
I hate learning them.
Always have.
And now I have to learn a new language,
not out of want or desire,
but out of necessity.
I wish there was a book,
similar to my French grammar book lying in front of me.
A guide to take me through the steps.
Where do I start?
Basic vocab and present tense verbs is always the starting point it seems,
but what would the equivalent be when it is me I am re-learning?
I already have a language to think in,
I actually have five.
But none of them seem to work right now,
as I still end up thinking in the same manner as before.
Instead I find myself having endless discussions with myself,
and trust me, that's not very interesting or pleasent.
Usually it goes something along the lines of:
"God I'm stupid."
"No you're not. Stop saying stupid things like that."
"Fine, but I'm still stupid even if I don't say it."
"But you're not. So stop it. Stop being so stupid!"
"Ha! Told you! I AM stupid."
But on the rare occassion I manage to trick myself into believing the world isn't a dark, horrible place I actually do see the stars in the sky and the sunshine in the raindrops.
So maybe these tiring conversations is what I need,
maybe I have all the sufficient language for it.
I mean, it doesn't matter which language I say it in,
it's still the same thoughts.
Debate.
Discuss.
Speak your mind.
Let it out.
Listen to it.
Contemplate.
Take it in.
Take the other side.
Push yourself,
because no one ever said it was easy to be sane.

On a personal note

It's been just over a year since I picked up the pen again. And I truly have tried to keep this my own private space. I am grateful to everyone who reads it, I don't care of it's one person, twenty or no one. I write for me. I'm trying to heal. Which is very, very, very difficult. It's a long process.

I am currently going through an internal change. Which is why I took the opportunity to also redo the blog a bit. Try to 'brighten' it up a bit. And yes, I do know it's not a colourful explosion. But to me it's serene and calm. Which is what I need right now. And while my melancholic state of nature probably never will change, I am trying to find the light. We'll see if it's still out there waiting for me or if it's moved on to better things.

Thank you for being part of the process. I know I'm annoying and whiney a lot of the time. But this is my space. This is where I don't have to put on that smile and pretend everything is okay, when it's not. And this is where I get to be like that in order to not have to be all depressed when I'm out in the real world.

And by the way, the soundtrack to Grey's Anatomy is amazing and I'm considering starting a series of posting all the lyrics to all the songs just because they all are perfection.

Double life

I sit at the table and look at the people around me,
discussing the events of the day.
Mum just came home from work.
Dad is on his way to the golf course.
I had a relaxing day with a good friend.
I mention the fact I have to choose classes for next year,
I get puzzled expressions.

It is as if my life here and now is the reality.
The years spent in that other country was just a dream.
The days of laughter in the grass outside a campus building.
The long hours in the library.
The dinners at friends' houses.
Is it really the same girl that goes through that that is sitting here?

I look out my window.
And think of my double life.
The relaxed, chilled, typical Swede.
And the stressed university student who spends most of her hours in a corner of the library.

Most people lead double lifes.
One at home where they've grown up,
and one in the place they decide to make their home.
When those two places are seperated by a sea,
and when the people in one place have little knowledge of the people in the second place.
Then your life truly becomes double,
and I can't help but feel on the outside.

I love both places.
But will I ever find a place where I don't feel like a part of me is missing?

Finding me

By accident I clicked on the link, and as I started reading my eyes grew bigger and bigger. Never before had the truth stared me in the face as bluntly. It was the story of a girl. A girl that I immediately felt that it could have been me. It was as if someone had written down the story of my life, and my emotions surrounding it, into one small article. And then summed it all up in three small letters, TCK. Third Culture Kid. It was refreshing. It was fascinating. It was unbelievable. I had done it! I had found something I did not think existed. My childhood was a phenomenon, my state of mind was a 30 year study.

Every word, I could have written.
Every feeling, I could have felt.
Never had some one else put words to my life so well. So perfectly.
Never had I been as astonished at someone elses words. I'm normal after all, who knew!?
It was as if a piece of me fell into place.
Never had an article struck me so hard before.
Never had it hit the spot so well.
Never had I been able to relate to every single word written.

I'm still shocked. And amazed.
I need to get that book.



(Picture taken from DeviantArt, thanks!)

People know me

People think they know me.
They are sure of who I am.
They look at me, and see a version that I've created.

Jumping around the world.
Never settling down.
Always on the move.
Ironic and sarcastic.
With a clear goal at heart.

I look in the mirror.
And wonder where it happened.
When I became this person.

People think they know me.

I have no idea who I am.

Going home

She looks at the sun. How it warms her heart. She turns her head, takes in the view. Puts a sad smile on her face.

She's leaving.

She breaths the air. How familiar it feels in her lungs. She lets the air out, takes in the view. With a feeling of a drizzling summer rain.

She's going home.

Saying good bye

She closed the door and sighed. It was quiet all around here. She thought of the day she'd had. The weeks. The months. A sad smile spread on her lips. It had been amazing. Sunshine. Wind. Rain. Storms. Mountains. Coast. Rainforest. Desert. Friends. People who made life worth living. People who made her get up in the morning and face it all. Once again, she had found a place on earth.

Three weeks left.

Good bye's. Departure. Seperation.
The smile turned into tears.
Time to face the end, once again...

Taking back my self

I used to write all the time. Short stories. Poems. Random texts about nothing and everything. The words would just come to me. I would sit down. Grab my pen, and write. I loved it, every second. It was like disappearing into a different world. A world where I made the decisions and controlled the outcomes. Although I many, many times did not have as much control over the pen as I thought I did. It would often grab hold of me and not let go until it had gotten its say. Short stories rarely turned out as I had planned. Poems usually took a weird twist at the end. To just let go of myself like that was wonderful. Escape from the daily routine. The daily life. The world. When I started university a two years ago I lost that. Writing became a chore. Not that I study writing, or English or anything like that. I study international relations. Which means that we write essays. We analyse why the world is as it is, and we write essays about it. Long, tiresome essays. And writing lost its fun. So did reading. I read so much for my classes, and wrote so much, that when I had a spare minute I was too tired to open a book or grab a pen. I've hardly written anything in two years. I miss it. Terribly. It's a good way to vent. Get everything out. Thoughts. Ideas. Speculations. So I am going to get it back. The fun in writing. I might have to force myself in the beginning. Pull out the words. But I'm hoping this will help. Have a place where I can write.

First entry. And as of entry two, I will write again. Write in the way that I miss so much.