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Know thyself

My writing is the worst it’s ever been, I’m not merely thinking of lacking grammar and structure, the act of writing is like wading in tar up to my  thighs.
Not quite writers block but not far off either.

I’m all busted up I can’t exercise nor engage in the activities I usually rely on for endorphins.
And since I’m incapable of faking anything I’m just going to write about what’s on my mind even if it veers on the existential side.
At least it’s real and if you think like me, you know grit builds character.

I was gifted a potted flower over Easter and as I’m waiting at the bus stop a passerby ask me what I’ll name it.

This startled me as naming houseplants has never been my custom and I asked him to give me a suggestion.
He says Alexandra and when I ask him why he choose this name,
 he tells me it’s the name of the girl who got killed a couple of days before and I went home and cried for a week.

I now have a houseplants that is my niece’s name sake.

As soul probing as I am, it somehow evaded me how very hurt I still am over losing her.

After years of taunting the Swedish political leadership I thought I’d be in trouble going back but it turns out her not being there is worse than anything those charlatans could have thought of.
Truth to be told,  I have never been this hurt by anyone.

 Her death aged me and it certainly slowed me down. I’m going to be 50 soon and now I for the first time feel my age.

Mourning evolves from initial shock to all consuming grief and slowly,  day by day ones soul adjusts to the new reality.
There’s days when I don’t think about it and then there is something causing a flare up and I’m just gutted with grief.

I had my share of misfortunes in life, for so long I embraced it as learning and I refused to be defeated.
One foot in front of the other will eventually get you where you want to be.
Just keep going.
And that’s what I done.

Then last year I was injured and I’m learning of how the limitations  influence my overall well being.

I feel like I was done mourning her but maybe I’m just too distracted coping with the injury.

Which brings me to you. 

It is critical for your emotional well being to know it’s ok to fall apart sometimes.
And if it happens several times, so be it.
The only thing that matters is how many times you pick yourself up.
Do it again.

I believe it is important to allow the depth of your emotions, be heart broken, wallop in sorrow and feel your souls anguish so that you can cycle trough it.

Once you do, the rebuilding begins, maybe only until next time but with active effort of you taking charge of the pain and steering it, you will be able to heal a little bit more every time until you find yourself developing the ability to compartmentalize the misery because, restricting it you must or it will encroach every aspect of your being.

Happiness is a choice,  You have to decide that you are going to be a happy person. It takes commitment.
Even when it’s not going that great you have to clamp down in the sentiment.

But there are times when a hard cry is a radical act of self love.

Let it out. Let go. Grow.

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Love Evolves

I’d like to think I made peace with it.
Most of the time I enjoy reminiscing and I still love her dearly.

She came to live with us as a shy and retreating little sparrow, timid and easily anxious in a way a child should never be.
I always felt protective of her.

Our personalities were as diametrically juxtaposed  to eachother as one could be.

She always talked about wishing she had my courage, that she was brave like me.

I understand some things are easier for me than it is for others, I attribute much of my personality to the conditioning environment of my formative years and in a effort to embrace this mountain of lemons,
I’m going to try to write some of the things I should have told her in the hopes of bringing a new perspective to someone contemplating their options.

If you are going trough a situation where you are being picked on for your physical appearance,  a disability, sexual orientation or for being different simply, know I am in your corner.

It’s been a long time since but I used to write humour, not sure how humorous I’ll be but it tends to seep trough no matter what the subject,  I’m decidedly sentimental, my meanderings are often slightly transgressive and I am plagued by idealism.

Your average Swede in other words.

As things would have it, I am half Norwegian and half Swedish, both lineages from the far North.

Which means double dose for the uninformed.

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I’m trying for the life of me to think of something positive to share but the current ‘Do Not Resuscitate’ in effect has me feeling anxious, I just can’t shake it.

I know more senior members of the community than I do people my own age.

Well, one thing, I ran in to my couple today, sitting in their usual spot against the wall while casually panhandling.

They are both deeply tanned already but the mum looked content and comfortable and I’m finding solace in the fact they are together.