Look deep down in your eyes

You don’t have to read a lot of from Freud or watch psychotherapists to see that we are not perfect. It doesn’t really matter how much our parents loved us, how much velvety are the memories uprising from our childhood, we know exactly that all of us were damaged somehow. If not at home, then in kindergarten or in school. If not even there, then surely there was a grandfather, an uncle, someone who left a sign in ourselves and did it mostly in a bad way. That’s it. We’re all human.

Who lives, then gets hurt too. It is correctly claimed that we learn from these things, but it isn’t taught how to handle these perceived and real grievances, indignities. Not everyone knows where to go, whom to say. So often the situation is too hard to live it through this is why we usually can’t share these problems with others. Suppression is such a tiny little thing, no one is needed as a company, we can do it pretty well alone. However, in this perfectly enlightened world the wisdom of not suppressing anything quite often come to us. Do not let these negativities poison you. Then what to do?

Be honest with yourself!

This game starts with a firm conviction that you are not better than the others. It seems like that, I know. We all believe that we know for sure. If you succeed in believing that you are a fallen man, you will help a lot. Then something new is starting. You can get to know yourself, which can be an incredibly painful journey, but nobody can do it instead of you. Have you ever wondered about why it is so hard to check your reflection in the mirror sometimes? You can lie to many people, and there are some who upgrade their everyday masks to almost perfect, but they all have to face with themselves finally. Your make-up should be washed and your fake smile should rest a bit after wearing them all day long. And then you are the only one who stayed. This is why the nights are so frightening. During the hours of darkness our demons come even if we don’t recognize them at first, they know us extremely well. Their massages are important and “must listen”. The dark passengers are taken with ourselves and the only way to get rid of them is to admit their existence. So let’s meet with your special dark side. We have to understand who he is and why he is here with us. We also need to know why we are not allowing him to go, because he basically doesn’t insist on us, but we on him, even if we are trying to suppress his imaginary power with all our strength. He has his power until we let it and the size of this power only depends on what we created for him. Ask him where he came from and what he wants!

Say it!

If you choose this journey some obstacles may arise just to unsure you. If you pay enough attention, you will come to the point that any obstacle will truly protect yourself. Old grievances, agonizing memories, wounds believed to be forgotten are all struggling to not revive them. They do everything, really do everything, that you do not want to relive them, do not want to look for reasons, and most of all do not look for answers, because in this process at first there is much more pain than joy. Liberation and relief are just for those who survive the suffering at the beginning. One of the most difficult things is to be honest to ourselves. If we can practice this in everyday life, we will be better people and more tolerable for ourselves, it’s guaranteed.

If we can draw up in every life situation what we think and why we say, my friend, success is yours, for sure. If you can recognize and handle all what are hidden behind your instincts and passions, life with yourself will be much easier. To do this, you have to say out (loud) everything. Everything. At first, only for yourself. To this phase not anyone would be involved. If you need to, then choose a professional. I mean a psychologist, psychiatrist, therapist, shaman, yogi- they are absolutely not just for mentally ill and retarded people. No. Whatever we call them, they can help if you can’t help yourself. This is not a weakness. You just have to be honest with yourself and admit if you feel that you will not be able to cope with the certain problem alone. If you trust someone during your journey, it is a holy gift, not a shame. The goal is to talk about those things that are deep down, even hiding over your consciousness. Sometimes you simply have to laugh at yourself. It helps.

After you say them, all the pain seems to be a little, may be just a tiny little but farther away from you. It can happen that after letting them go away, you won’t feel the heaviness and you will realize how funny is your point of view. No one says that introspection ignores humour. You can tell, if you want to, that you were a bit idiot. The point is to stay honest, the most sincere. There is no reason to lie to yourself. Sooner or later the truth would come back to you if you skipped this rule. It’s possible that a constant headache or even a peptic ulcer would shout it loud. You can’t hide the truth. It is in you.

Talk!

When you recognize the need for self-knowledge, you will start talking about it involuntarily. It’s a wonderful, liberating feeling that you want to share it. You see, I do that too. It’s a pure multi-level marketing. It infects you and you think you will get a commission if you involve others in the party. In fact, it is only about that these things cannot be said enough. When you experience how wonderful it is to get on well with yourself, you feel you have to show it to others. This may be the new lines of the song: if you get on well with you, clap your hand… But really. Talking is good. You need to talk. As an outsider or watcher of your life you can see, hear objectively those things that are just in your mind or in your soul, and it is highly needed. A good conversation brings us together and bring you closer to your real existence. You should talk about your feelings even if you were mightily taught to hold them inside. Do not believe them because those suppressed thoughts, feelings will begin to co-operate with each other, and they find a place of assembly in your body. From your ignorance they will build a revenge army and attack you. Yep, they can create a serious disease for you and if you don’t get on well with you and you don’t know yourself enough, then you won’t understand what is happening to you. However, you are never really outside of your body, not even when you want to believe it. You are in. You are all your cells. So, free them from the oppressive darkness!

Let it go!

Now you know how you are. You know, you have to do the right thing in this life. You have learned that your feelings belong to others. You’ve met the forces inside you and you recognized the ability to change. It’s time. No, no one really does it for you. Throw every shit out of your soul and your mind that you don’t need in your new life. You don’t need to get involved in unnecessary, energy-shattering relationships, even if it’s your family. Nobody has a perfect family. In this single life, surround yourself with people you love to spend time with, and whom you can give with pure heart. They are needed and they need you.

The focus is on mutuality. Obviously this is not a business, but you already know that you can’t give from yourself more than you are, so don’t even try. Release everything from your life that does not take you forward. You already know who you really are, and you have also realized during your journey who are standing next to you, with who you can experience the magic feeling that you are living and you don’t need to be different than you are. Because you are beloved. It moves the world: love. So, let it flow!

photo from pixabay.com

Because you came- Adventures with Mr. Hodgkin

He came from nowhere; I know that was because I called him. From an emptied relationship I had to move away, from a fictional life I had to get realization and build myself up from the very beginning. He was so obvious, so easy, so worthless and so irresistibly nobody. But he was there in front of me, two steps lower than me to get that eye contact. I saw clearly that every woman is his, that he had never known the meaning of no, that I wouldn’t escape neither and that I probably didn’t want to escape at all. The hug of his huge arms called me in and I needed to feel the illegality, outrage, the periphery of existence, when I had no explanation for anything to anybody and I could take everything I wanted without a slight felling of remorse. Those eyes shouted that he was in burning desire just like me. I had nothing to say. He grabbed my shoulders and only said in protest that I wouldn’t do it. We talked clearly to each other, nobody equivocated. He had a family, and I had nothing to lose. He owned the body I wanted. I owned the body he wanted.

In the cold light of shining stars

Our first date, the beginning of peril, the first night of decadence burnt unforgettable memories. I can write this way; I know that he feels the same for sure. I would never have been able to imagine such a wonderfully simple, such a sense scattering intoxicant and passionately senseless intercourse. We cut in each other’s flesh with our desires; the merger of our will melted in a wonderful harmony. His whole existence came close to me, I let myself close to him, but we knew nothing about each other, moreover we didn’t want to know anything about each other. With this quiet release, we moved to a level where I hadn’t been before. There was nothing other than the unearthly delight of two bodies, a higher level of existence in which no matter what I was and no matter who he was. We were together just for us and we allowed ourselves to be captured by the everlasting lustful humility which vibrated in that room for long months. Black out.

Always and again

When he fell asleep besides me I felt the endless distance between us and in the very first moment this reality touched me. He was lying in his naked entity and I left him without thinking. I didn’t want to spend another second with him. Not then and not in any other dawn. But the passion woke up every night and he came as if I was ringing with a secret bell. We lived in each other’s body with a hypnotic and unconscious admiration. In every blessed evening I was waiting for my phone to ring and for him to come while I hated him the same way for what he did with me. But the phone always rang and I bided him dressed like the worst slut to take me apart again and to build up a sanctuary for my female existence and to admire on his knees my unrepeatable youth. I was longing for his desires though I felt he pulled me deeper and deeper and I drifted with the flow, accepted that nothingness, that simple emptiness, that soulless corporeality.  We didn’t talk to each other. He didn’t want me just grabbed what excited him and did everything he could to give me what I wanted. I felt that this was not normal, but somehow it simply went. For every blessed day I decided it would be the last.

Let me go!

We truly built up a real rotting hell around us filled with infantile happiness. We hated each other, argued a lot and promised hundred times that never again. During the day. But in the evening we were overwhelmed by our crazy passion and whenever, anytime he came to take me away I never could say no to him. Never. Months passed in this unbearable living, in this constantly drunk love, in this everlasting lust. Nights inchmeal became longer and longer and those dawns found us together. Our days slowly became enlaced and we spent endless hours together while we both knew we couldn’t get rid of each other. I tried to escape, desperately, fearfully, painfully, but he did not let me go. While after a long dizzy night of love, I woke up and realize that I had absolutely nothing. He couldn’t be mine, and I didn’t need anybody else. So many times I tried without him, so many times I asked him to leave, he never did. And I was captured. There was no feeling left in me. I didn’t love him, I didn’t love myself, but I couldn’t be free.

Love

That night was incredibly different like never before. Embrace, sanity, talk. So the first time when I realized that we unbelievably didn’t know anything about each other I also felt a calm hug surrounding me and I didn’t want anything else just to enjoy that unimaginable and endless tranquillity. Everything was so pure, silent and simple. He loved me like he had never before, he kissed me and he was longing for me as if it was the last time in his loving arms. These were the absolute, sincere hours of our never-existing love. We were honestly there for each other. In spite of the unmeasurable pain and lust that was the first and the last night when we devotedly made love. No one could take away that tenderness, the dance of our senses, the deeply carving truth of the music, the illusion of our endless and unique kisses. Real love shone around us, though I already hated him so much, but somehow everything was different. We couldn’t get enough of the beauty that surrounded us. It was a cold, a so cold early spring dawn.

Last time

Next morning, he said nothing just kissed me out on the street. Never before. His eyes were sad. Never before. He caressed my face. Never before. He didn’t mention we had to say goodbye. I knew we had to, but I didn’t need that pain. He let me go with that fear, with that uncertain grief and that day I found a tumour behind my clavicle. I recognized the beginning of something wrong and I was crumbled to dust. I broke into pieces. Nothing mattered, though I didn’t get a diagnosis then, for that matter, not for a long time. I just felt like I was lost. No worth, no feeling. The only one I wanted to love was gone, and I couldn’t find myself for a terribly long time.

photo from pixabay.com

Masks stuck on our faces

Am I a wife, a lover, a teacher, a student, a mother, a girl, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a neighbour, a patient, a doctor, a customer, a seller, oh, really, how should or how can I comply with all these roles? Most of our times we try to cope everywhere with a lot of worry while we feel that our tiny little butt is not enough to ride all these horses. Falling down become very usual because we have never learnt how to ride well. But why should it be so? Who says you have to behave differently, you have to comply with other rules or you mustn’t be yourself? Who taught you not to tell what you think? Who trained you not to show your real self, to hide the true beauty in you, while that is you. Who caused that you think you should consistently hide everything that brings you closer to yourself? Why do you believe that if you open, you will fail? You need your everyday masks to feel safe, don’t you? It is better in this way because it’s easier, however you don’t solve anything. All these oppressions will once make an alliance to fight against you and then you will understand that you lost yourself. Don’t let it happen! See, that’s me. That’s all. Me.

Morning make-up

Recognition is overflowed you with a soft dawn and after waking up from the hidden world of your dreams you must choose the appropriate yourself from your wardrobe. You must wear your well-established manners, your precisely planned make-up, direct your mood and zip your daily role up to your crown. Let it tighten like neoprene otherwise you can slip. You do all these things so naturally that you may not even notice it. It’s so usual to open the door and go out while you lock yourself properly into your mind and your body. So high-pitched topics can come e.g. about the weather and your fake-smile is inexhaustible (you upgraded it perfectly) while you are struggling alone. It is better if nobody would like to be a part of it. You can solve it alone. But why is it good to be alone? Don’t believe that I haven’t felt it. Sooo cool to be there where the crowd is. It seems that you are a real party face because you participate in almost everything without truly being there. Big city life, you know the feeling when you go home by bus, underground, whatever and thousands of people rush away from you without names, faces and you truly don’t care. They also do not want to know you. All the bus stops fade away and the noise surrounds you but deep inside only the empty quietness is your fellow. The landscape is beautiful, your life too, but your lonely soul cries for someone who can wash the make-up and see only the pure existence underneath.

Come and peep!

When I get to know that I was ill or when so to say it was stated that was the time to close the gates. I didn’t allow myself to be seen by anyone because I didn’t even know who I am. I wanted to be any kind of anybody else but of course I failed. I tried to be similar to others but I didn’t succeed. Obviously. I couldn’t count those persons who were persecuted from my life just because I shew somebody else not me. At that time, I started to produce various kinds of psychotic symptoms, so the control was fell apart. You cannot be just yourself even if you try to force it for some time and you become a bit depressed but you won’t change. You will be screaming and waiting for the redemption when those clothes will be taken off and those colours of your mask will be washed. You should not wait for others to do this. While you’re hiding behind those masks and your roles define you, no one will suddenly wipe your face with a cotton swab and will shout: where the hell have you been for so long? You shouldn’t choose from your roles because you are not just this or that, all of them are parts of you. Don’t lose yourself! Don’t let others define yourself. Realize in the dawn of your brand new world or in the sleepy morning or (god damn) accidentally in a delirious midday that you don’t have to meet the expectations of the others. Anyone. Finally put on those cosmetics that depicts you. Spell yourself with the magic of self-confidence and you’ll see that even on the dirty subway your self-acceptance will sparkle. You could end your day with a pleased sigh because you didn’t do anything differently than you felt deep down in your heart. After washing out the dust of the day see the same one in the mirror who went away in the morning.  Even if you are tired or if not everything is really succeeded and you feel too much pressure.  Surprise your exhausted soul with the peace in you.

Fallen scenes

When you learn how to handle your roles once you will realize that you no longer depend on them. If you do it in an advanced way you may define whether you have to pick up one of the manners and play a bit. The most beautiful is when you have a secret place where your soul can be pure and nude. Pooh says the home is where you can release your tummy. That is very similar to what I think. Where all these expectations don’t buzz around your head, so where and when you can say anything what you want. I go further, where you are allowed to feel what you really feel. You should have a place like this in your life. Here you can let those roles go away and step out from hypocrisy. Wear those trainers and comfy pants, you don’t have to comb your hair or even your legs can be a bit hairy and you are accepted totally. That’s what you need. That’s what you deserve. And if you have it, please be infinitely grateful for it, because you have a place where you are beloved.

My face

If I let you see my face, then you are so close to me. I’m a social creature, it is said, but not only me, you too. That bastard bus driver too. He is a social creature too. All of us need acceptance, attention and other pathetic things what you cannot buy in the Tesco. This is why we have our souls. We need each other. We need love, long hugs, the feeling of togetherness, the warmth of home, because these make the base of bearing everyday life. Exploded into that stinking, stressful big world this is how you can find your place and protect yourself. Going back into our familiar nest gives me weapons to fight against those unhappy and home-searching people. The world is full of shit. I don’t watch Tv, neither the news. It’s enough to know that I must survive like you too. And for all these beautiful things I am grateful as much as I can. This is why it is wonderful. What you build up around you and who you share your inner self with; only that counts. They should be your world. Your home. No acting. Everyone is free.

photo from pixabay.com

Our spiritual shoes

Every time I see you, every time you hide into my sense and I hear your name, love arises into flames like it hasn’t happened before, like I haven’t met you before: new shoes. Whenever you can come towards me everything starts from the beginning. It doesn’t really matter what you look like: you can be comfy trainers or glittering platforms. It doesn’t matter how expensive you are, because not your price makes your value. I don’t care where I will find you, even if you are a pearl of a mall or a second-hand shop’s queen, because all your secret is that you are new. A prey. I have to get you.

Why do I need you so much?

The question of why shoes define me hasn’t come up for so long. I didn’t want to put any philosophy into my shoeshopping because it was a pleasure in itself, it didn’t need any explanation. You simply notice them, and the feeling burns you down that without them you probably can’t live futher. You can’t wear anything because that certain item is out of your stock and you want it. Anyway. That is the opportunity and it will never come back, so you must get them and that’s all. And a flash sale, aawwhh, need them. And if it is not, it doesn’t matter. It is a must for you, because a voice is howling from deep inside. See, these shoes are so beautiful, and there is the case when they are so ugly that they are beautiful. You know it. Those patterns, look at that colour! You will solve everything in my soul, just come home with me. Don’t bother if I will never wear you or even love, but you will stand in the queue because you have a special teaching for me.

Psychotherapist shoes

I haven’t bought shoes from passionate love for some years, only when needed. That is a totally different world with viewpoints and with conditional love. Very similar to a longlasting relationship, because passion is not enough, you have to be a bit more adult with more special requirements. We are planning for a long term together. Last week I had to go to a shop and buy a bad romance. I was ashamed on my way home. I didn’t need it, I didn’t have money for it, but it gave me a slap to wake up and see that there is something wrong inside. Something made me satisfy a bitter sweet urge filled with deep repentance and I totally lost control over sanity. That dark blue platform was stronger than me. It came along with me because it brought a message about the fact that I had tried to push something deep in myself. I was not good at troubleshooting the plugging as at preventing the problem. So I had to sit down in front of the blue beauty and ask it what it wanted. How could it get me to bring it home when I didn’t need it at all. More precisely the object of my need wasn’t it, but in the absence of myself I had to negotiate with it. It said I had lost. That was the truth, but I was afraid of admitting it. I got into a certain kind of situation what was absolutely unknown for me and I was scared I wouldn’t be able to meet the requirements. My requirements. A burning love was awakened by the shoes.

The main reason why I need you

Life gives us profuse ideas about why we need to get a new pair of shoes. Partners, lovers, preys, reflections of the misery of our souls. During the chemotherapy I didn’t want anybody around me except my family. I didn’t want anybody to see, see through or even slightly suspect what it was about. No one could get the chance to be a part of my suffering. I only needed time to get to know myself and find the most suitable resolution. From the very first moment I knew that it would be a painfully lonely journey. I was prepared not take anyone, no one could accompany me. I went to a long and insanely difficult terrain, but I bought a pair of professional hiking boots, definitely. That period from the beginning of our strange love with Mr. Hodgkin to our breakup brought seventy pairs of shoes into my life. I wanted all of them because they made me a woman. I didn’t dare to look in the mirror, I wasn’t beloved, I couldn’t make myself attractive, so I could give so many roles to my shoes. I needed them so much. Every single shoe was meant for patching my torn soul.

There is no obstacle

My never-existing doctor was born to a highly empathic woman, so she called me to control only three days after the chemotherapy. Simply because she had never been there when I got that shit into my veins. It doesn’t matter, does it? Nothing special, I only had cancer. She wanted to see me therefore I went to the hospital. I could bear the bus ride. Like a well-qualified beagle I felt that disgusting smell in the air at the gate of the hospital. I hadn’t beleived the legend of being able to smell clearly those chemicals from a hundred metre, but that was the truth. So I swallowed and went in. After two sentences she let me go. With rage, anger and with a desperate feeling of fainting I needed to find a shop. That certain shop which was close to the hospital, so I had to walk only a few hundred metres. I was chanting that I was ok, everything was all right. It wasn’t. I entered the shop and meet with a new pair of shoes. I hadn’t had that kind before, you know, I wanted. Awakening from the first sparkles of love I saw that the world started to blur around me. I paid and run out to the fresh air. Not far from the door I found a hiding playground between some huge blocks of flats where I planned to sit down for a while. I failed. A nice little sandbox from the era of socialism was the witness of my vomitting into a dustbin. My tears were falling. Some workers were preparing for their breakfast just a few metres away on a bench. I didn’t even try to smile. After wiping my mouth I bought another pair of boots in another shop. Holding those boots I travelled home and hoped I wouldn’t vomit the whole bus.

Goodbye, glass slipper!

After finishing our extreme romance with Mr. Hodgkin I started to live the real life and I slowly realized that the outlines of my existence were no longer drawn by shoes. I love them nowadays too, but everything went into its appropriate place in my soul and there is no stirring urge to buy a new one. A certain part of my shoes were never on my feet. Some years ago I could give them away from a pure heart. I know they just wanted to help me when I held high, but I just went deeper. I know they just wanted to fill the gaps in my soul I might not have admitted to myself. Finally they couldn’t fill just brought some light into my darkness. Only we can cope with our own demons whatever we wear on our feet.

photo from pixabay.com

My bad romance with Mr. Hodgkin

This relationship was different from the others. I knew from the very first time that he could not be the one who let me go. He came though I did not even presume that I had called him. In a cushy and warming March morning I caught sight of him for the first time. That time I found him mysterious and insoluble hence I was not afraid of anything; he barely touched me. He quasi got into me, he was taking breath with me, impregnated my thoughts and played master and servant with me. I had to let him do whatever he wanted because he really knew what I needed. My man knew what I deserve and he gave everything to me. I wanted to know more about him, but that time when the shiny clouds of happiness and unconsciousness faded away it was too late. He got into my cells, we became one and on our journey we could go only together. On that sunny March day something special surrounded me and I felt that I would not be lonely anymore. I had not been alone from quite some time already. I was swept away by him and he shaped me his own image so fast that I could not perceive. I observed us from outside. I tried to find out where the borderline between us was; where the end of me and the beginning of him was, but as we were going with the flow and all the demented mornings, excruciating nights fell to the ground, the border slowly vanished. For some months I had been searching for the answer to the question who was he before I found it. He remained undercover for a long time because he could hide his true self. Although from the first time he was Mr. Hodgkin. My cancer.

He was hiding from me just to easily bypass the reveal of his identity because he needed enough time to destroy before the great recognition. He needed that time, me too, but I was on the other side somewhere in front of myself. We were at the end of July when I got the result of my histology. I didn’t even know what to do with it. My doctor missed to inform me about… so, about almost everything. Excuse me, I’m lying. I had to make an appointment with the PET CT centre. Funny, but I didn’t know what it was, not even why I needed that. I had to be satisfied with that certain sheet of paper in which I saw his name. That was the point when I got to know that he is the one, the unrecognizable who had bound his life with mine for long months. Holding that paper was a kind of levitation in the endless and carefree unconsciousness for hours. Finally I called dr. Internet to help me and I searched his name. At that time it wasn’t a common or well-known disease in my country but undoubtedly there was the fact: cancer. Living in a dizzying summer party fever I had felt that our first meeting on that sunny March morning didn’t hold out anything irresistible for me.  With all my power I wanted to use and rule the time before being stamped. I put everything in it, though the half of it would have been enough. I sat in front of the monitor and I couldn’t even take my eyes off. Hodgkin lymphoma, cancer, whatever. No one can forget this kind of moments, chanceless. I felt nothing, so called: I didn’t catch it and this beatific sentiment had been following me for so long time.

Why are we so afraid of cancer?

Countless people had been brought into my life from the first moment of living together with Mr. Hodgkin and so many impulses was affected me. I met with ill ones, recovered ones, but I have never guessed why they are so afraid. Why cancer is the worst bugaboo? Why aren’t we afraid of being hit by the bus on our way to work in a shiny, happy morning? Why aren’t we afraid of being disabled because of a car accident? The most common fear is cancer. It is a filthy, villainous pet, for sure. It isn’t as honest as an accident. Cancer’s parasitism and power mania horrify us, but that is exactly what it wants. We have our own fears everyday but the range of weapons against them is truly limited. Believing in different things helps us to fight: we believe in God’s hand, the divine providence or in consciousness, in money and power and also all of us have a special opinion about the definition of life. Thousands of ancient quotations, wise advice try to keep us on the road of control. Our lives are in our hands til the point where we can only blankly star at the empty palms because there is no real rein. We cannot control everything but fortunately we don’t need to. And also you are fake when you try to blame yourself for those things that happen without your influence.

Every single person is unique in this world even if we think sometimes that we can share certain feelings but that’s absolutely impossible. Life is really wonderful and we never know how the other feels. I will never know how much my husband loves me, how much my friend suffers during giving birth like you will never imagine how much chemotherapy hurts even if you got through it. Because it is me. This is my life, my feelings, my decisions, my goals and my devices. It is not selfishness just human nature. I’m sure about only one thing, that I’m afraid too. I’m scared every single day, but it’s not a secret and I don’t feel ashamed. I tell you, anytime. Thereby I can take myself a bit outside and I may laugh about it if it helps.

Don’t let anxiety destroy your beautiful life. Wonder is within you. You were born to this world and no matter what you got as a mission or what you have been working for in your whole life; in this conscious existance we all have only one chance. Don’t let yourself be tempted by the evil. I admit that at first I couldn’t do anything with Mr. Hodgkin. There was he and there was me. We shared the same body, destroyed it together in an unsaid agreement. It took a lot of time for me to start the recognition with the ancient method. Lots of energy were wasted to be with him, but I tried to spare some to search for the reasons. Why did he come? I wanted to know what he loves, and what the key is to make him go away after forgetting our long-lasting relationship. Don’t be afraid- awwwhhh, that was the only thing I knew. If the pressure is too strong you cannot concentrate on the goal. Believe me, he tried everything to dissuade me. He didn’t want to do anything what I planned to do. I realized that his attachment is such a strong bond that many litres of disgusting infusion is ridiculously few to unlock. He is not interested in chemistry, he wanted me. He tried to eat me because he knew what I didn’t. I called him, I needed him. When I understood it and the nature of our romance I tried to laugh at him and at me, of course. Fear makes you cripple while laugh gives you freedom. You can laugh at yourself when vomitting ice cream after chemotherepy in spite of your tears. That was the turning point when I decided to finish our strange love. I simply didn’t take him seriously.

In early childhood, at the beginning of learning how to control feelings, parents used to deprive their from the releasing joy of crying. Crying is a must, because crying is good. After that life goes easier. You don’t have to do it in front of others, but alone and let it go as long as it is needed. Let that chest break apart, let those tears and mucus become one. It is not a pathetic behaviour, it can be the biggest help for the sick soul because it heals so effectively. After letting go all that no longer serves you, you can see the world clearer.

The fact is that I couldn’t cry. I didn’t cry when I got my histology, I didn’t cry when I got the results of PET CT and, of course, I didn’t cry after the chemotherapy. My tears were falling down during the everlasting process of vomitting, that’s true but it was suffering not crying. I simply didn’t let myself understand the situation. If I had had to realize my illness it would have become true. I had been afraid of it but it happened once. I didn’t wait for it, I didn’t want it but Mr. Hodgkin didn’t let me be unconscious anymore. He wanted me fully. So he broke out like lava from a volcano. You should let it go, always let everything go. There is no big girls don’t cry. I had to learn to cry, I had to learn how to accept. Our bad romance at that point took a turn but we were so far away from the breakup.

photo from pixabay.com

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