Reflections of the Past

When you have spent all of your life feeling you have to be less to be accepted...

When you have... Instead of Speaking with others, you expressed yourself in writing instead.

Cause along the way, SOMEONE taught me to be silent.
Someone took my voice...
And maybe... Something.

What I read in all of my files is...
I did not trust...
I did not seek others in my classes...
Even when the teachers observed the other students being friendly with me.
Teachers felt I needed practice at being social More.
They wanted me to participate vocally...
I kept to myself...
I observed...
But I expressed myself very well in writing...

What I have felt all my life, was ashamed of who I were.
Ashamed of being too much...
Of writing too Long messages....
Of talking too much in social gatherings...
Of showing people my weird quirks...
How I am...
Who I am...

Yes, I feel deeply...
I see everything...
I have a soul of a romantic poet...
I have depth that probably scare others.

So when I feel something, I really do feel it...
Very deeply...
Yes, I might be a little intense...
Sure.
But when I love, trust me, No one else have touched with the same kind of love...
When I am happy, I see fireworks, rainbows, glitters and More.
When Im Sad... The world falls apart.


Imagine...
When someone you thought were a friend...
Also hate these parts of you that you have felt so ashamed of all your life...
Reading my old Diaries....
Hearing all of my overthinking....
My fears...
My struggles...
Me never ever feeling good enough
Not Even once... 


Every single time someone talked to me...
I would overthink their intentions...
Their motives...
Why were they talking to me?
Why were they kind?
Why be kind today, when yesterday was a different story?
That was the story of my life.

And still is... 

I experienced someone, even the biggest bully, beat me up at school every day...
And treating me Nice suddenly at home...until I found his true motives for kindness.
He wanted to experiment sex with me.
Trapped me... Held me.... Threatened me... Gave me Red spirit to drink... Undressed me before he would threaten me so that I would pee myself... Cause he wanted to watch that. And also threatened to have me naked on his bed, with a watch show from his window...

But every time he was kind, I believed it. I was stupid enough, naive enough, to think the best of people. To think good about them.
Apparantly maybe I never learned from that.
I never learned to listen to my instincts.
Maybe I just always hoped the next one would be good and real....

And also...
What all my teachers never saw...
Never knew...
The biggest change i see in the Reports..
Being good at gym... Until one year..
Me "forgetting" gym clothes...
Me not having gym as often as before.
Me having issues with showering with the others...
When also I struggled More in different classes.
Was it all connected?

Me telling my theraphist I had a secret...
A big one.
But never did I say what it was.
Never did I mention being sexually abused...

By a man I trusted... 

Never did I also mentioned a teacher at school that tried to touch me inside a storage room.
I kept it all to myself.

For years I did...
For years I stayed quiet...
Just observing.
Just... Being stuck...
While on my inside...
I was a complete mess.
Holding many lifetimes of feelings, of unprocessed memories, of sorrow... Grief...trauma...

From all that I know...
It is some kind of a miracle that I still manage to smile today...
That I still manage to joke.
That small glimpses of who I am still manage to come out.
I talk More now, than I did then...
Because people came and believed in me...
Helped me through...
Gave me light.
Gave me hope.
Inspiration.
Gave me joy.
Faith.
Kindness...



But now...

Now I am left once again,
Questioning it all...
Asking myself if I was just naive again...
Stupid...
If any of it was real....
Or just a big fuckin fantasy... 

Yesterday

I wish I could go back

to the before, 

when silence lived in my chest

and nothing ever spilled over.

When tears were strangers,

and my eyes stayed dry

no matter how heavy

the world became.

I was a stone then, 

cold to the touch,

untouched by storms

I refused to name... 

But inside…

inside I carried oceans

no one ever saw.

Then you came... 

You cracked something open

I didn’t know could break.

Taught my lungs to tremble,

my heart to ache... 

You showed me

how to feel, 

how to drown

in something real.

Now there is no hiding.

No walls thick enough

to hold it all back.

The tears don’t ask permission.

They fall

and fall

and fall... 

And I... 

I don’t recognize myself

in the flood you left behind.

I wish I could go back

to yesterday…

before your voice found me,

before your touch rewrote me,

before you killed me softly

with a song

I didn’t know I’d never stop hearing.

Before I learned

that feeling everything

means losing the safety

of feeling nothing at all... 

MidMarch Reflections: Finding My Way Back to Myself

MidMarch Reflections: Finding My Way Back to Myself

We’re already halfway through March. Time has moved faster than I expected, and I realize I’ve been quiet here for a while. I’m sorry for the absence. Life has been… hectic. A bit chaotic, honestly. Things have been shifting in ways that make it hard to keep steady footing, and lately I’ve mostly been focused on simply staying upright through it all.

Sometimes life changes you in ways you didn’t ask for. And then, somewhere along the way, you have to figure out how to find your way back to yourself. Back to the person you know you are deep down.

That’s easier said than done.

Because finding your way back also means choosing to be that person, even when others have already formed their own opinions about you. Even when they misunderstand you. Even when they say things that try to define you in ways that simply aren’t true.

At some point you have to decide: do you spend your energy trying to prove them wrong, or do you simply turn around and walk away?

Lately, I’ve been realizing something very simple. Life is too short, and my energy is too limited, to spend it on things like that. I don’t have the time, or the life hours, to carry other people’s judgments on my shoulders.

But the battle isn’t only with the outside world. Some of it is internal too.

I’m also fighting parts of myself. My impulses. The side of me that sometimes reacts before thinking. And at the same time, there’s another part of me, the core of who I am. The heart. The light that other people often say they see in me.

Maybe the next step is learning to see that light myself, to aknowledge it. Be proud of it. Not let others dim it. 

Maybe it’s time to nurture it. Protect it. Value it.

Because the truth is, I’m happiest when I’m simply being myself, without thinking about what others mean about it.

What confuses me is when people see something else entirely. When they misunderstand who I am or what I mean, or my intentions. It hurts sometimes. I often feel like I’m the one who ends up being misunderstood.

Maybe it’s because of my fears. My anxiety. Social situations don’t always come naturally to me, and sometimes that makes things awkward or unclear. Words get twisted. Moments get misread. And instead of asking, people often fill in the blanks with their own assumptions.

But here’s something I’m slowly learning:

I’m not responsible for what other people choose to understand.

I can’t live my life trying to match an image someone else has created of me. That kind of life would never really be mine.

Right now it feels a bit like rebuilding after a hurricane.

How do you do that?

How do you rebuild solid ground after everything has been shaken?

I imagine patience is part of it. Rebuilding trust. Creating stability again. Learning how to stand without falling back into old pattern. Getting to learn what my heart really wants. 

It means not losing control.

Not shrinking yourself just to make others comfortable.

Not trusting blindly when your instincts are clearly warning you otherwise.

And then there’s the harder part, the memories.

The words and images that stay with you, even when you wish they wouldn’t. Experiences that shape you whether you want them to or not. Some things can’t simply be erased, because they also carry lessons. Wisdom. Warnings.

So how do you just walk away from something like that?

How do you move forward as if it never happened, when it clearly changed you?

It does make you more careful. More skeptical. Sometimes it adds another lock to the door of your heart. Make you become harder. Tougher. 

Maybe that’s not entirely a bad thing.

Maybe rebuilding doesn’t mean pretending nothing happened. Maybe it means accepting that the storm shaped the landscape, and then choosing how you build on it from here.

And yes… maybe this is me being a slightly dramatic writer again.

But sometimes writing things down is the only way to make sense of the pieces.

Either way... Only way out is through, they say...

Thanks for Reading this far ❤️

Keep Shining, keep smiling ❤️

Love from 

Merry