Glitter In The Air .... Stuck In My Mind

The song, from P!nk. Amazing song.
To be honest, wasn't paying too much attention to this song, until recently.
I have it on repeat for the last two days.
I absorb every word, every note she sings. Every breathe between the words. 
It lead me to ....

I still cry. I come home, close the door and tears roll down my eyes. Because of so many things. Him, my work, my relationships with people. Mostly because of me.

Yes, I'm changing things in my life.
And yes, it is fucking difficult.
I have built this fragile mask/side of me for so long. I have listened to critics and negative things for so long, they became a part of me.
You can't change a pile of stuff that was collecting over 25+ years overnight. 
Even though it might look fragile, it is fucking hard to brake. 

The most difficult thing?
Being gentle and appreciating to/of myself. Not putting myself down. Not torturing myself for all the past mistakes (or things I have considered as mistakes) over and over again.
Just can't do it sometimes. Just don't see that it is all good, that I'm good. 
That I'm forgiven. For all it was.
Just can't see that. 
I do see mistakes, the ugliness of my soul, the emptiness, the fear. 
It is easier to judge and be hard on myself than try to embrace, forgive and heal. Because I never was tought to embrace, forgive and heal. At least not myself. 

So yes. I try. I fail at being nice to myself. And then I'm being hard on myself because of not being nice to myself. Go figure.

But ...
It is all good. I am making progress. Even though it might not seem like this. But I am.
Even though my life now is such a mess and chaos, as it before never was.
But ...
It is all good.

I am still alive. 
I am still breathing.
I still can see all the good and the bad things in life.
I can still hear the music.
I can hear my inner voice, getting stronger and stronger, guiding me back to me.

I am still alive.
Thank you.

Couple of days after ....

... and a looong talk after ...
I flipped.
I cried.
I tried to explain my feelings.
I didn't quite succeed.
You see ... well ... I got carried away. Yes. That happens to me from time to time.
Alcohol is very helpful at that.
My emotions were ... well ... overwhelming. To say the least.
Poor him. Yes, he cares for me. But as a friend. And he doesn't want to loose me. As a friend.
He keeps asking me, how can he help me.
Well ... I do have some ideas. But it really takes two to do that. And, frankly, the ideas are not in a friendly zone. Hence, I don't know how he can help me.
All the talking and all the feeling.
I am too much for him to handle, at least now.
I have too high expectations for and about him. It's like I don't see him the way he is. 
Oh, I do see him. Every bit of him. I guess I forgot to ask him, why does he still cares about my opinion and everything, if I have so different picture of him, expectations and stuff.
Well, we'll just leave this for some other time. Some other talk.
Now, I'll just go and meditate this pain away. 
There really is something going on in this world this year.
All the changes, all the pain, all the memories. It's getting quite challenging to live, to move forward, at least for me.
And then comes he, with his blue eyes and naughty grim and he takes me by the hand and we cross the street at the red light. Oh how I hate doing that. And how I love doing that with him.

It's not you. It's just me being too good for you.

Warning: This post is written under influence. Of alcohol. And in no intention of deleting or correcting it.


Watching you grabbing her. Kissing her neck. And then trying to do the same to me. Really? 
Really?
Not caring for what I want. Small things, like, I asked for water, you gave me whiskey. And you know (at least that's what I thought) I don't like or drink whiskey. 
Not caring for my feelings.
Yes, you let me know you like to keep your options open.
I clearly told you I'm not OK with that. I want to be the one and only.
We agreed to be friends.
I flipped out on one ocassion, realising I care too much for you. 
We talked this out.
I still cared for you.
Tonight. Tonight was an eye-opener.
Alcohol loosened your thoughts and tongue. 
I realised I was not that special. I was just one of the girls you managed to bang when you were in a relationship (and you still wonder, why your now ex-girlfriend couldn't quite trust you ... yes, she was a tad psycho ... but nevertheless ... ).
That was my problem. I have put you on a piedestal. I thought so highly of you. You are a genius.
But as a human, you have failed, by my opinion.
In your pursuit of not being ordinary, you have trampled and destroyed. Not knowing that of course. 
Yes, you do care. Well, you care in a way. And then you get afraid that it is too much and you destroy it.
I can't play this anymore. I cared too much for you. Too much.
Tonight, when walking home from the club, tears rolling down, the pain in my chest, trying to breathe. 
Yes, I realized what I already knew a long time ago. 
I am too good for you. 
And you will, unfortunately, never know this. 
As much as I have wished and dreamed of the moment, when it would hit you ... realisation what you had and lost ... this will not happen. At least probably not as I have imagined.
I have Gotye, Somebody I used to know, on repeat. Lame. Passe.
I'm mad at myself. I got fooled again. I thought and hoped, even though I knew ... I felt ... this was not it.
I cared too much. I worshipped you too much. (heck, even plain worship is waaay too much)
Nevertheless ... I still dream ... that it hits you ... I was the best thing you almost had ... and you lost me. As a lover. As a friend. 
I can't be a witness of you fooling around. It hurts me. It hurts me even more, that you knowing I care for you still exposes me to all this info and scenes of you fooling around. 
Me silently suffering.
Well, dear, the horse just tripped and your landing was not that majestic. 
My realisation of all this was not that great.
It hurts. Crying my eyes out. Still wondering, how the fuck you can't see how much I care for you and how much you hurt me with your reckless behaviour.
It's me. It's not you.
It's just me being too good for you.

Breathe.

Breathe In.
Breathe Out.
Everything is OK.
It's been a rough week. Or two. For sure the last mont was extremely rough. To be precise, this whole year was a constante battle of keeping my head up and not sinking down into black hole of emotions, despair and depression.

I could wright endless pages of suffering, crying, utter pain and hurt I felt. I could easily give Adele run for her money. And Taylor Swift. And any country singer. Seriously.

But. No.
It was rough. I'm still not quite OK, but I'm out of there. And have no intention of going back.
Yes, it's still not quite easy. I still have to remind myself to breathe, to let it all out. 
But, I'm OK.

Now, where should I go now? Where is my place? Since all I knew until now was pain. 
I'm still not so sure about love and light. And forgiveness. 
But, OK, let's try it. It has potential to be better from everything I have tried and done so far. 
I guess I really never have tried Love before. I had glimpses of it, but never felt it. At least not for myself.

I was told to bond with my inner child. That's so NewAge-ish and lame-ish. Everybody is saying that, chanting, making excuse with it to ruin other people's lives or to run from responsibility for their own lives. It's not that I'm reviving my pre-school stage, with crayons and stuff (although I have found utter peace drawing with my oil pastels and watching soap bubbles floating around my flat recently.). 

It's just finding your inner laughter. Remembering, what you were as a kid, what were your dreams and where have they gone. For me, it is also taking care of that kid. Healing it. Forgiving for neglecting it and treating it poorly. 

It's about making peace with myself. And with others. 
It's about peace and love.

A promise.

It's a new start for me. 
Yes, I had a couple of new starts already.
And yes, all of the were brand new, this-is-it starts, finally-this-is-it starts, ....
So, why is now different?
Because I stopped pretending and I stopped running from myself.
That's promising, right?
Right.
I wanted a nice, clean, easy start. You know, you wake up one morning, open your eyes, birds sing a glorious new song, there's a beam of sunshine directly on you, and everything feels just right.
Well, it ain't so.
New starts are messy. Troublesome. Not easy. Chaotic.
And they hurt. At least mine does.
It hurts like, well, hell. It is hell from time to time. 
It's hard. It is fucking hard. 
It feels like I can't breathe anymore. Or think. My energy is leaving in waves and I can't move or do anything.
But then ... I look back. And I look now, where am I.
It is different. It is better.
I promise, I will be moving forward. 
I promise, I will be dealing with all this pain.
I promise, I will thoroughly clean my mind, soul and body.
I promise I won't back down. 
I promise I will make it.
Thank you.