As today is Easter and the weather here in the Netherlands is letting us down once again - I don't know if it's on purpose, but the chances of having a white Easter were this year bigger than those of having a white Christmas - I'm planning my holidays. That is, virtually speaking, as I'm suffering from a chronical lack of money on my much-loved bank account. I'm saying "much-loved" now I have downloaded this app on my smartphone which helps me to check on it every single minute of the day, I repeat, every single minute. Unfortunately, all the checking doesn't help to grow a money tree.
So last week, when I posted this, my Blue friend commented that I could go to Bora Bora to get rid of my paranoia. "Bora Bora?" I hear you thinking... Exactly the same happened to me too when I read this post, because, honestly, Bora Bora?? I thought it was just one of those imaginary places on this planet Earth, made up by my Blue friend. However, he told me that it really exists, so I decided today that it was time for some research. And indeed, it exists. Let me show you this picture, just to give you a tiny impression:
Not too bad, is it? But then I thought, maybe there are other pulchritudinous islands on our planet, so I wanted to check them out. I don't know why, but I'd like to visit an island once in my life - and then of course preferably far, far away, therefore the Wadden Islands don't count! - so I'd better find out something about the hundreds - what do I say, thousands - of islands we know about, only to find out that the choice is just way too big. So I decided to limit myself to islands beginning with a B - no real preference, just because Bora Bora has two B's, I guess - and as far as size is concerned, I wanted to limit it to a hundred square kilometres max. Bora Bora's size is a mere 30 square kilometres. Then I thought about Bermuda. You know, the well-known island forming part of the cursed Bermuda Triangle. So I decided this could also be a fabulous holiday destination, as it's an island starting with a B, having a surface of about 53 square kilometres. Now check this picture out:
Well, I wouldn't be too bad-tempered were somebody to send me there, even though you have this thing with the Bermuda Triangle. However, then I was a little bit left without further inspiration, so I googled "islands beginning with B", and I found a whole bunch of them. Try it out for yourself if you think I'm fooling you. And how could I choose only one more to make the list complete? (You know I have something with the number 3, don't you? That's why there have to be exactly 3!) So I took my antique but still reliable secondary school atlas and had a look at page 112-113, where you can find a map of the world. Bad thing about this atlas is that it doesn't even know Bora Bora, can you imagine?! Good thing is it does show Bermuda. As Bora Bora has to be somewhere at the margin of the right-hand page and Bermuda is almost at the margin of the left-hand page, I decided I should look somewhere between these two to find another island, preferably meeting my requirements of course. And believe it or not, but the map showed a small island, of which I'd never heard before - neither have you, I assume - apparently belonging to Norway, called Bouvet. As I don't believe in coincidence, I knew immediately that this was the island I'd been looking for. So Mr. Google served me well once again, and this is what I discovered:
- It does meet the requirements: it starts with a B and its size is only 49 square kilometres.
- It's an uninhabited, volcanic island, located in the South Antarctic Ocean.
- It must be very cold out there, and there must be lots and lots of snow.
- Would there somehow be an airport? Or would I have to go by boat?
- I think I'd better not go there... especially in comparison with the two islands I mentioned before...
This is what it looks like:
However, I've always been fascinated by snow and ice, and I love to take a stroll when it's snowing, although I also have to admit that snow on the day before Easter - as was the case in Holland yesterday - is a bit over the top. Still, it's worth considering going there, because "uninhabited" sounds great to me! No people nagging on about my thesis, no people scaring me when they drop the words "job" or "future", no people hurting my feelings, no people whatsoever. Just me and my island... No thesis, no problems, but also, no Internet, so no blogging... Well, I could give it a go if only I installed electricity and Internet on the island. I don't really mind the cold. I mean, I can deal with it better than with the heat I'd find on the two B-islands I mentioned before. By the way, why does Mr. Google only show me pictures of alluring beaches and deep-blue oceans when I search for "uninhabited"? Surely there are other uninhabited places on earth, without the paradisiacal look?!
However, I have come to my senses. No way there is enough money on my bank account to go to Bermuda or Bora Bora, let alone to go to Bouvet and install electricity and Internet over there! Still, nothing is impossible. I know for sure my Blue friend and his beautiful wife will one day visit Bora Bora and send me loads and loads of pictures. I mean, he can have it. Maybe he doesn't have the money (yet), but it will come. He already has a gorgeous tan, so that can only get better. And his Bollywood wife will be most pleased to lie there on the beach, go for a swim every once in a while - but watch out, for there are sharks over there! - and have a good time with her (by then) de-grumped husband.
Therefore, France it will be, 2 weeks in the Provence once again. It's already way too expensive for my poor piggy bank, but sometimes you just have to think about other people too, and if they wish for you to join them, who am I to say no? Especially when there are people involved that you really love... Anyway, I'm already having this discussion with myself over which books I should take, for I have lots and lots of choice, because of the so-called hole in my hand...
As a Christian, you soon learn that the devil follows your every move, and that he is willing to intervene in your life whenever he sees a possibility, whenever there is an open door. He and his demons that serve him slavishly might be responsable for some of the curses on people's lives. Well, people, it seems that my thesis is cursed. By whom exactly, I don't know, but every time I'm in a good writing mood and I'm working hard at a new chapter or at the correction of some previous chapter, something terrible happens unexpectedly and it hits me real hard. Don't believe it? Then read on and I'll tell ya all...
You know, back in the year dot, I started studying Languages and Cultures of Latin America. I got my BA degree Cum Laude, and then I started a Research Master in Linguistics, but that didn't turn out to be the best choice I'd ever made. So I went back to my roots, and decided to return to the department of Latin American Studies. All went well, until I had to start writing that bloody thesis. It's not that me and my thesis don't get on very well, it's just that, since I started working on it, many unfortunate situations have intervened my working on it, and I've had my "episodes", if you know what I mean.
I started the investigation in January 2012. It took me about a month and a half to finish the research, and everything went well, I was so cheerful back then. I was travelling by train to Amsterdam, Rotterdam, The Hague,... without any problem. People came to my place, I went to people's places by bus, by train, you name it. I saw the sun shining in the blue sky, heard the birds singing in the blossomed trees... I had a lot of things to do, but it was fun. I was finally doing some fieldwork after all those years of theoretical input. However, it seems that things were going too well, apparently. When I finished the research - I interviewed no less than 44 people, Dutch people as well as Spanish speaking people - that was the point where things started to go wrong. Just because I was feeling so well - and honestly, I'd been feeling very well for quite an extensive period of time - my psychiatrist and I decided to lower the meds, the antipsychotics to be more precise. That must have been in January, and all went well for about a month, but when we had lowered the dose by a third, I just seemed to collapse. At once. I had these extreme emotions once again, I was utterly depressed, I lost the sense of life. I wanted to die... I just didn't see the purpose of life anymore. Furthermore, I wanted to kill a whole bunch of other people too, just because. I had lost my way in life completely. So I had to be admitted to a psychiatric hospital - once again. However, as my situation didn't seem to improve, they kicked me out after a mere two weeks, and I could only spend the nights there. I felt lost and rejected. Luckily I could count on the support of my nurses and my psychiatrist, although I didn't trust that last one completely. He's still a rookie if you ask me, although I've never doubted his good intentions. I mean, I've got more years of experience with personality disorders than he has... Still, I needed them very badly, as I couldn't count on the support of the clinic anymore, nor on my family (with very few exceptions).
Somewhere in that period, when I was feeling a little bit better already, I started this blog. And then, after the worst had past and after we'd reinstalled the meds as they had been before, even with a higher dose of antidepressants, I wrote this post, in which I referred to my therapists. It was somewhere in May, not coincidentally the Borderline Awareness month. They're good people, they've proven that more than once. Even the psychiatrist with whom I still have difficulties when it comes to complete trust.
Anyway, it took me more or less three to four months to recover completely from the setback I'd experienced. Three or four months in which I couldn't work on my thesis. Lost months. So it became quite clear to me that I wouldn't graduate in 2012, but okay, the Dutch government still gave me some credit, I could use one more year and they gently offered it to me. During the summer holidays, I didn't do a lot when it comes to my thesis, but hey, everyone deserves holidays, right? So I just enjoyed the time in France and I was more or less stable again, that for sure. Then, when I wanted to start working at the thesis again, I got torn apart by a family dispute. It wasn't that bad, but it already showed that there was no way that I would work on that bloody thesis with a certain discipline. The new semester started, and I wasn't the same person anymore. Guess I got confronted with the autumn blues I have to go through every year. I hardly worked on my thesis, although I tried, but I wasn't feeling too well. Still, the worst yet had to come.
I started working on the perception chapter of my thesis, but then I was left broken-hearted by some family issues. And now I finally got over that crap, and also with aging, I have to admit, I eventually picked up the thread and I started working very hard again, correcting previous chapters and perfectioning the language used. And then word got to me that doctors have encountered a tumour in my grandmother's bladder. As she's had cancer before, chances exist that this tumour is malignant. Tomorrow she'll have to undergo some extra tests, and you know what, I feel so despicably angry. Another setback. How many more do I have to endure before I can finally put the last dot after the last sentence of that bloody thesis that freaks me out?! This thesis is cursed, there is no other explanation for all this sh*t.
I'm so angry I feel I could kill someone. You know why? Just because. Ow, I've had these fantasies in which I enter the Lipsius building at Leiden University and I shoot down a handful of people. Why? Just because. That's why! I know I won't do it, so if you're a regular visitor of the Lipsius building, don't be afraid. It's just in my own fantasy world. I'm just desperate. What do I have to do to stop this curse? My pastor would surely tell me there's no such thing as a curse on a freaking thesis, but I'm so sure about it...
I'm off now. Got some serious things to do, such as studying English vocabulary, grammar and collocations. My favourite activity for the coming 3 weeks, I suppose, because then the exam takes place. I'm not confident at all, normally I'm well prepared, but as I've had these setbacks, I haven't prepared anything at all. Not yet, and ok, there's still time, but I feel so insecure about this, especially because there's also an oral exam. This is important to me, I want to do a good job, to get a straight A once again! If only I could exchange all those excellent grades for another year of living for my loved ones... Oh, I'd certainly know what to do! Anyway, time to stop blogging and get to the more serious things in life. Meanwhile, I'd appreciate some prayers for my grandmother. She doesn't deserve to have to fight cancer! If someone has to have it, let it be me. I'm physically stronger than my granny, she's so fragile... By the way, you can see her picture here. Isn't she the loveliest granny you've ever seen? Well, I'll tell ya, she's mine :) Let's keep her another couple of years with us...
Maybe today is just another regular, boring day for you. Well, for most of the 7 billion people on this planet Earth it will be like that, I suppose. Just a regular day in March. Nothing special. Not for me though. Today, on 23-03-2013 it is exactly 30 years ago, to be more specific, on 23-03-1983, that I was born. Mind the 3's. I'm not feeling exhilarated, though. In fact, I don't know what to think about it and how to feel about it, for the simple reason that since I turned 18, many birthdays haven't been full of joy or happiness, or whatever positive emotions and moods should accompany birthdays. Instead, much has gone wrong on birthdays since that day.
So here I am, sitting in a corner, sulking about my 30th birthday, looking back at the year when I turned 18, the year where everything went wrong. You see, when I turned 18, I was admitted to a youth psychiatric clinic, while in my mother country - Belgium - you're supposed to be the star of the day when you turn 18. You could compare it with the sweet 16 parties in the US. I remember very well that, when my sister turned 18, there was a huge party with friends, family and schoolmates. I was 12 and was enjoying it as thoroughly as my sister did, for I was the younger sister of the birthday girl, and I received quite a lot of attention actually. I even declared my love to an 18-year-old who didn't know what to do to hide his blush and embarrassment. However, when I turned 18, the light went out at 10PM, I was alone in my room with bars before the windows and I had received exactly one birthday card, a card made by the crew of nurses and therapists of the clinic. I still have that card, for that matter. I can't remember whether I cried that day, but I do know that I was trying to do my best to behave in order to stay out of the isolation cell, which was quite a challenge, because - as you can probably imagine - I wasn't feeling quite happy that day. In fact, it came to a confrontation with one specific nurse, and he threatened to drag me to the isolation cell, even though it was my birhtday. He said he couldn't care less. I was kind of lucky he didn't carry out his threat, because I remember coming quite close at pissing him off completely because of my unacceptable behaviour at that time. All that fuss just because I was kicking a stake...
Since then, every birthday reminds me of that day at the youth clinic. What's more, it wasn't the last birthday I would spend in a psychiatric clinic, no. 5 years ago, 1 year ago... same story, other location though, and a much more humane treatment. But isn't it time to come out of that corner, in which I push myself every year, sulking about the past, about all the unreasonable and unfair treatment I have received? Isn't it time I started enjoying my birhtdays from now on? I mean, 30 could be a turning point, right? Last year, although I was admitted to the clinic, I could freely leave and a friend of mine took me in her car to the seaside. I've always adored the sea, especially in spring, when there are just a handful of people at the beach, playing with their dogs or trying to lose a few pounds while running a mile along the beach. It's a lovely sight, and I can appreciate the atmosphere.
Maybe this year will even be better. At least, I could give it a try and see what happens if I come out of my much-hated sulking corner and discover the world around me. The 23th of March is supposed to be a beautiful day of spring, with just enough sunlight and warmth to leave your scarf and cap at home, while taking a stroll in the park where the daffodils and crocusses truly announce spring. Well, that's how it's supposed to be, for this year, another amount of snow has been announced. Well, we'll deal with it, I did see some crocusses in the park already, and it would make a beautiful picture, a lovely yellow, white or purple crocus in the snow, wouldn't it?
I'm actually receiving guests from Belgium, two cousins of mine who really seem to care about me. It surprises me time and time again that there are people willing to make the best of a situation that seems at first sight hopelessly wrong and difficult. However, let's assume that 30 indeed IS the turning point. Well, what about it, Debz? Maybe you could finally use the gained wisdom - as that comes with age, I've noticed - to do something with your life. Finish that bloody thesis, write motivation letters and send your CV to some interesting language teaching institutes, or become that hands-on expert you want to become so badly. Sounds quite good, actually - and then there came a smile upon my not so cheerful face...
Let's make today a better day. Let's start by letting loose all these memories from the past. The past is the past, and there is nothing you or I can change about it. As it is written in the Bible (Luke, 9: 62):
62 And Jesus said unto him, No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.
See, I can't escape from the monster called Time. We all age, every day brings us a day closer to our death. So the coming of this number 3 behind my name is unavoidable. There's no escaping, whoever you are, no matter how rich you are, no matter your own wishes. When it's your time, when God calls you, there's no escaping. You can't buy yourself some extra time on Earth, or in my case, some extra time to stay in my twenties. And even if it were possible, I could spend my money on other, more useful things.
You know what, I'll spoil myself a little bit today. Just a little bit. I don't drink alchol, but I could have an ice-cream. Or a milkshake. Or even some French fries with a delicious-smelling steak... And maybe I'll alow myself to be a bol.com-aholic for one day, just one day. Although I like Amazon better, and with this credit card I got not so long ago, spending money becomes as easy a habit as eating or drinking. I could do it more than once on a daily basis, only to look at the end-of-the-month bill with wide and noncomprehensive eyes. Did I really do that? How come? This can't be true. Unfortunately, these people don't make mistakes. No one makes mistakes when it comes to receiving money.
The day has just begun. Another 23 hours lie in front of me. I have to remind myself of this: it won't be possible to make the self-fulfilling prophecy come true. See, for years I had the idea that I would die before I turned 30. Even this week, I was thinking about killing myself, because I just couldn't bear it. Not another crappy year added to this already putrified life, especially not with the change from twenties into thirties! But I guess I have no choice and I'll just have to endure it... for a change. Despite all that I've been through and all that has happened, I've survived so far. What do you think about that?
Have a happy day, people. I'll keep you posted. But I do want some chocolate cake. Or a chocolate muffin, or a brownie. As long as it contains chocolate ;)
In these times of studying for tough exams and preparing nasty presentations students want to change the direction of their thoughts every now and then. In Dutch, we students have a beautiful word for this activity. It's called "SOG'gen", where SOG stands for "Studie Ontwijkend Gedrag" en de -gen is just the ending of the verb. It practically means something like "Study Avoiding Behaviour". So now I'll properly take my time to SOG.
You know, dear reader, I have a Blue friend. No really, a Blue friend. Actually, he's not my friend, he's in fact my English teacher. Still, I take the freedom to call him "my Blue friend", hoping that he won't mind. And he's quite an accomplished person, if you ask me. Not only is his knowledge of English vocabulary and grammar endless and awe-inspiring, he also knows how to make unhappy people like me enjoy each and every one of his lessons. I swear it's true, I don't like to miss out on any of his lessons, however bad I'm feeling. He's the best English teacher I've ever had, and comes very, very close to the best teacher (in general) I've ever had. No hard feelings there, I hope ;) Anyway, my Blue friend is the one who was the inspiration and motivation for my own blog, for the simple reason that he already had a blog, and I swear to God, his writing style is so amusing, so inspiring, so diverse. I really enjoy reading his posts, and he deserves all the exquisite comments he gets. People are raving about his blog, and they have damn good reasons to do so. That's why I've decided that my dear Blue friend deserves (another) award. I write "another", yes, for he has received several up till now, and last week, he created one himself and gave it to two of his blogging comrades. That was enough reason for me to dedicate the "versatile blogger award" to him.
I actually had a hard time choosing between no less than two awards that would fit his blog evenly well. Still, I chose this one, because his posts surprise me time and time again. You should have a look yourself, just google: "blue grumpster blogspot" and there he appears in all his blue glory. Now, I have to be somewhat cautious with this, because there have been some problems he honestly didn't deserve, which is the reason I wanted him to give that other award too. But let's keep that between me and my lovely Chico and, who knows, maybe there'll be another opportunity at which I can award him that one too. We'll see what happens. This is what my Blue friend looks like:
Pretty blue, ain't he? :) He calls himself "the blue grumpster", but I can honestly tell that I haven't seen him that grumpy (yet), and when he was, he had very good reasons to be so. So he isn't that grumpy at all, if you ask me. Only his beautiful Bollywood wife will know, that's for certain ;)
So Randy, this one's for you. You deserve it more than I can express. You are a true example, and thanks to you I started my own blog, which helps me to cope with my life, which can be very tough at times, as you know. A blog post can sometimes bring more relief than a simple chat with my psychiatrist or nurse. Your blog can make me laugh because of its absurdity sometimes - when you wrote about those human turds, remember? - but it can also make me think of some essential things in life. That's why it's truly a versatile blog. And I mean each and every word I write now. You are an example and deserve world-wide respect. Now, enjoy your name on my Wall of Fame and keep on blogging. Vertically challenged Debz is watching you ;) (A joke only my Blue friend will understand :D)
Oh, how familiar this sounds to me. I have good intentions, people around me have good intentions, but we all make these bad decisions that can affect other people's - and our own! - lives. What can there be done about it? It's quite a delicate subject. However, let's tackle the problem and see which path this post will follow...
Recently, I've had some good intentions, especially when it comes down to me, myself and I. I want to be able to live through the day, so to speak. I want to be able to go to bed at night while being able to looking back at the entire day and saying to myself: "Well, mission accomplished, you're still alive!" Sounds a little bit exaggerated maybe? I can tell you honestly that this is not the case. Nor is it my intention to make you worried. Somehow, things aren't going the way I want them to go. I still have these thesis issues, I have family issues, I have money issues... but alright, who hasn't issues? Still, in all this mess, I've got to find myself back, which is quite a difficult task, so difficult a task as I've never faced before, it seems.
People tell me I have to take good care of myself. Sounds easy, but if you've ever had moodswings, you know damn well this is not an easy task. It comes down to this: the easiest thing to do is to lie in bed all day, trying to catch a few hours of extra sleep, not thinking about all the rubbish in this fucked-up life... But it doesn't work like that, of course. You have to get up in order to have breakfast, you have to brush your teeth, you have to go out to Albert Heijn in order to get some food on the table, you have to go to classes, to appointments with people who have the best intentions with you. That's a fact. You can't just hide in your bed all day. If only I could... I don't like to face reality at this moment.
But Ok, let's turn back to the good intentions, all right? In order to get through the day, I have to drug myself. In fact, the meds are neatly prescribed, but I notice that the effects are wearing off faster and faster every day. In order to avoid another emotional crisis, I actually have to take more, which I did twice this week, without the necessary prescription. So far the appropiateness of my title: Good intentions, but terribly bad decisions. I shouldn't do it. I shouldn't augment the dose all by myself. Also, I shouldn't depend on other people. I'm so happy to have kind people around me, people that really want to help me. I'm not only referring to psychiatrists and nurses, but also to teachers. Today, once again, I asked my English teacher for a ride home, and kind as he is, he didn't have any objection. The problem was that I'd taken too many pills, yes indeed, the kind I was talking about in an earlier post, and I didn't feel very steady when I wanted to leave the classroom. But I feel guilty, in the first place because I shouldn't have (ab)used that extra dose of Tranxene, and in the second place because I don't want to depend on my teacher to bring me home. This wasn't the first time he brought me home, you know.
Other people around me also have good intentions. My mom for example wants to bring my sister and me back together again, but after what happened a couple of weeks ago - you can read about it in this post - I don't know if something that's been hurt so much can be mended again this easily. Also, I have to take the decision whether I want to see my sister back between now and two weeks time. How the hell am I going to make such a difficult decision? What's more, whatever my decision will be, it'll be a bad one for at least somebody. I'd rather have some more time before I see her, I want some responses at questions posed in the letter I wrote to her.
Talking about my sister, I've been through a lot of crap the past four weeks. I had the good intention to write her a letter in which I'd be very honest and tell her about the pain she's caused, but not in an impulsive way, no. I'd thought really well about it before mailing it to her. I expected a response, because I asked a couple of questions in order to improve our relationship. Somehow, in her opinion we're even now: she's had her say, I've had mine, so we should be able to start with a clean sheet. I had a good intention, but presumably made the wrong decision. I shouldn't have written her that letter at all, because she still seems to be unaware of the pain she's caused me. Not one apology, not one acknowledgement of my love towards her, not one remark about my openness... nothing. Why did I write this letter? What was I thinking? We're so different, how is it even possible that we are sisters?
And what do I do to ease the pain? Right, take more and more pills. I think this is addiction, and although I had - and still have - good intentions, I make bad decisions. I should maybe try to write something down in my diary, or to draw or paint something. However, with all that's happening, this is too overwhelming. I just don't have the time nor the motivation to learn how to cope with these feelings in a healty way. So I suppress my anger, anxiety and sadness with tranquillizers... My only intention is to stay alive, without having to cut myself. My purpose in life is to finish my MA, to get a job I like, to be happy. So many good intentions just to stay alive, but these also mean that I make bad decisions. However, I think it's fair to admit that pills are a better alternative than cutting myself or committing suicide, if you'd ask me.
Do you have good intentions towards me, dear reader?
What makes us different from animals is the fact that we can communicate using words, using language, and people from different countries use generally different languages. Still, animals can communicate, but the difference between communication methods used by animals and our own communication methods is that ours can be indefinitely expanded and adapted, while animals - even my little Chico - have a very limited communication system. Or so I learnt in one of my first linguistics classes. Now, we use words all the time, all day long, but what's in a word? Words can be similar in different languages, and still have a completely different meaning. Today, however, I don't want to focus on words in general, but I want to take a look at the meaning of specific words, words that have become very important in the difficult period I'm going through at the moment.
Firstly, let's have a look at the word 'friend'. When is a friend a friend? What's in the word 'friend'? Secondly, let's compare 'friend' with 'enemy'. What's in the word 'enemy'? Once I read this sentence: "Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies even closer". I made my own version: "It's good to know your friends, but it's even better to know your enemies". I posted this on Facebook this week, but received disappointingly few reactions. Maybe just because people didn't know what I meant by it. Well, let me use this opportunity, this blog, to be a little more specific about this sentence.
Friends. Everybody seems to have at least a few of them. Well, maybe not everybody. But how do you know if a friend is a true friend or if it is a so-called "false" friend? Both are friends somehow, right? I mean, both got the connotation of the word 'friend'. According to Merriam-Webster, my favourite online dictionary, a friend is "one attached to another by affection or esteem", but can also be "one that is not hostile". It's not entirely clear to me how I should define the word 'friend', but I can tell you this: I am blessed with a few really good friends. They are there when I'm feeling sad or broken-hearted, no matter the situation I'm going through. I even have some very good friends in my family. My true friends are those who can somehow read my mind and can pierce through the seemingly happy person I sometimes am when I'm having a rough time. That's why I sometimes find it hard to look my friends straight in the eye. I don't want them to know that I'm not feeling too well. I feel ashamed and intimidated to let somebody know that I'm not well. Anyway, they accept me just the way I am, with all my flaws. However, if this is my definition of the word 'friend', then there are quite a lot of people included, even teachers and therapists. So I should narrow it down, maybe. Ok, let's say that with real friends, I can also share some beautiful moments, especially when the two of us - as I prefer to be one-on-one with my friends, because that gives me a feeling of equilibrium and equality - are somewhere outside, enjoying the beauty of nature, or having a drink together, or when we are somehow praying together or just being together. As you might know, religion has a very specific place in my life, and I cannot always find the words to talk to God. So if a true friend does that for me, I feel very blessed.
Now about "false" friends. You see, friends don't always have to be people, it can also be an object, especially and specifically in the case of so-called "false" friends. As one of the best nurses I've ever met - you might have read more about her in earlier posts, like this one - told me once, a knife and some pills can be false friends. You think they help you in times you need them - and to be honest, they bring some relief, only it doesn't last that long - but it's so much better to turn to people when you're going through a rough time. It's just that I've had to learn and accept that, and it was not easy for me to understand and face the reality, namely that a knife, pills and cutting glass are NOT your friends. Instead, they are "false" friends, maybe even your enemies in certain situations. Still, it's difficult for me to grasp this. I've had so many bad moments in which I felt so damn alone that I fell back on my knife, pills and cutting glass. At that time, they were the best friends I could imagine. Now I look back at that time with suspicion. However, I'm still not entirely convinced that they are indeed that false as their name assumes...
Still, false friends exist everywhere, so there are a lot of people around me that maybe consider themselves friends, but... they're actually not. In my case, I can say that not only in my direct environment, but also in my family, I have a few false friends. They are hypocrites, liars and only seem to care about me when I can do something to their favour. It's a pity I have these people around me. Furthermore you have these two-faced people: you cannot possibly rely on them, because you never know which face you'll have to face at that moment. I shouldn't even call these people friends, but rather enemies. Two-faced people and hypocrites can't possibly be called friends, not even "false" friends. Two-faced people are probably the worst, because mostly they show you their beautiful, friendly and understanding side, but then, when you are expecting it the least, they turn from Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde.
Now, let's turn to enemies. Hypocrites and two-faced people are probably my biggest enemies, even though they consider themselves friends sometimes. At least, that's what they want to make me believe. Maybe they're even the most dangerous people in someone's life, those who pretend to be friends, but are in fact your enemies. And they're damn well aware of that fact. But hey, I'm not ignorant, and not stupid either!
An enemy in my point of view is someone who thinks I deserve to pass through difficult periods and who finds pleasure in my misery. I know there are people like that in my life. Enemies want you to suffer, they want you to fall back on methods of coping you don't want to use anymore. They want you to be torn apart, to be devastated and overwhelmed by your emotions. Shortly: they hate you. That's the word. The two most important enemies in my life live inside of me, and you've probably read about them in another post. Their names are Male and Moses. They are the voices that torment me. Another exceptionally strong enemy is the devil. But I won't go into detail here. And then there are the human enemies, for there are some of them too. You can't always tell, but I can tell when somebody dislikes me. Ok, that doesn't make them an enemy immediately, but still... We all have enemies, we have to acknowledge that. However - and now I finally going to make my point - the biggest enemy to myself is... me. I am the one who hates myself. I am the one who despises Debz and who tells myself I'm worth nothing. I'd be a hypocrite myself if I didn't own up to that!
I should cherish the moments I have with friends, especially because few of them are real friends. However, I've recently noticed that not one friend of mine can deal with my extreme emotions and moodswings in an adequate way, which makes actually perfect sense, because there exist therapists for that purpose. So I should try to enjoy the moments together with my real friends, and try to make the best of it. As for the enemies, and then I mention especially hypocrites and two-faced people, I should be aware of the fact that they exist and that they have bad and false intentions. And maybe I should just try to remember what I wrote earlier: "Keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer", and "It's good to know your friends, but even better to know your enemies". If I stick to that, then nothing bad can happen, right?
Can I ask you a question, dear reader? If you were to die today, would you be certain you'd go to Heaven? Can you look me straight in the eye and answer honestly, "Yes Debz, if I were to die today, I'd go to Heaven, without any doubt"? Let me share this with you: I'm not so sure myself, which means that I'm not standing right before God. Maybe you don't even care if you go to Heaven or to hell. But I can truly assure you: hell is not so pretty. Hell is not equal to an extremely hot paradise. Well, extremely and burning hot it is, but it's far from paradise.
Lately, I've noticed that I'm backsliding. Bad news, that is. I don't want to create a distance between me and God, but as God is not visible and as I haven't really felt His presence for a long time, doubt rises in my heart and mind. The worst thing is that I'm very well aware of the fact that I'm backsliding. And I don't like that fact. I want to be close to God, I want to dedicate my heart to Him. However, it's so difficult if you have to be honest, for God can read your each and every thought, so He knows you're doubting His very existence, He knows you don't believe you're worthy of His love. And I think His heart is bleeding when people act like me. They go to church, oh yes, they read their bible every day, but... they don't have that Faith they used to have. They don't have the certainty that they'll go to Heaven were they to die today.
Last Saturday I was very honest with one of my best friends from church. Very honest, that is. I exposed her to all my doubts. I told her about my indifference: Heaven or hell, what does it matter, this life is hell already. But she convinced me that I wasn't thinking in the right way and that I was in fact backsliding. So on Sunday, I went to church, hesitating if I should go towards my pastor to pray when he made the call for those who want to be saved for the first time, or for those that have backslided. Somehow, I went to the altar, and we prayed, but I didn't feel any difference. Monday evening, we had an extra service in The Hague with an American preacher, Kris Hart. I decided to go, not knowing what would happen there. There were about 250 people present there, and when the preacher started his sermon, I felt touched and directly spoken to by God. And then, the call came, once again, for people who wanted to be saved and for backsliders. I was hesitating once again, weighing the pros and cons against each other. God clearly wanted me to go to the altar, I could feel it in my entire body, from head to toes. But... there were 250 people there, 250! Not the 15 we usually have in church and that I've known for almost a year now, but 250 people, most of them unknown to me, and therefore forming a certain threat. Still, I couldn't resist and struggle against God's will, so I lifted my hand. I looked the preacher straight in the face when he asked if the people that had lifted their hand were really serious and honest about it. There were only two of us. The preacher invited us to the altar. The only thing I could do, was to step forward... and then I could only cry. I couldn't even pray anymore, just cry. I kneeled, and luckily, that one special friend was with me. She prayed for me, because I couldn't. Words wouldn't come. Finally I could utter this single, short sentence: "I'm sorry." I'm sorry. And this, I meant from the bottom of my heart...
Today - but actually for the past 3 weeks - I've been in and out of an emotional crisis all the time. Anger flows into sadness, sadness flows into anger, and so forth. I really have no control over it. The crises come without any warning. One of the consequences of this is that certain decisions that I take at a specific moment can change only hours afterwards. And you see what the problem is, dear reader, people don't understand that, even my best friends have no idea whatsoever of what I'm going through. And it's hard, if not impossible, to explain, it surely is. They can't feel what I feel. And I can't find the words to explain... Anyway, when I'm into one of these crises, I sometimes have suicidal thoughts, sometimes only minor thoughts, sometimes more serious thoughts. And then I want to do "stupid" things, like cutting myself or even killing myself. And the latter possibility becomes more and more attractive every day. I have these impulsive thoughts I used to have when I was about ten years younger: crossing the road without looking if a car or bus is coming, going to the train station, climbing up high spaces from which I could eventually jump and end this miserable life.
Sure, I could do it. And I could have done it a dozen times already. But I didn't do it, and I probably - hopefully - will never do it, because I want to go to the Father, to Heaven, and not to hell. Killing yourself means stealing the life that God gave to you and that belongs to Him. It's His decision if you die tomorrow or between now and fifty years. If you take the other option, you go straight to hell. That much is clear to me now. I didn't know when I was a baby Christian, but now I'm in my second puberty, I am aware of that. In any case, if I were to die tomorrow, I really hope I'll have Heaven as my destination, and not hell.
Dear reader, if you're not a Christian, and you don't want to read any Christian talk, you can skip the next paragraph. It's just that there are actually quite a lot of people who do believe that God exists. However, they immediately conclude that this is enough to go to Heaven. Sorry if I have to disappoint you now, but unfortunately it doesn't work like that. If you're not saved, if you haven't truly given your heart to God, you won't go to Heaven. Yes, God loves each and every one of us, for He made us, but if you don't choose His side before you die, you'll never reach Heaven. Did you know that a short, simple prayer can save you and create or reinforce that bond between you and God? Easier than that is hardly possible, I'd say. You only have to repent of your sins and ask forgiveness to God. He'll certainly give it to you. I've been there, I've done it. Maybe you think you are a good person and that you possess everything in life that you want. Possible. Maybe you think you sometimes make minor mistakes, and especially in comparison with your neighbours or even real criminals, you're not that bad, are you? Maybe you think you don't need God in your life, because there's prosperity in many fields in your life. Still, think about what God could do in your life. He could take away old feelings of grief, anger, disappointment. He could heal you from the inside. He could walk with you when things don't go as planned. But I have to warn you, you won't see Him, nor hear Him literally speak to you. However, you can feel Him, especially when you get saved and pray that first prayer with a pastor, evangelist or other people who know how this works.
So, decide for yourself. Do you give God a chance when He comes knocking at your door? He thinks you're worth His healing and love, so how could you say no to Him?
