Not my God

Today, March 23rd, 2016, I'm celebrating my 33rd Birthday. I've been waiting quite a long time for this day to come and honestly, I've been looking forward to it. That's because it's been years since I wasn't admitted to a psychiatric clinic or that I was feeling as good as now. However, my birthday is completely overshadowed by what happened yesterday at Brussels' airport Zaventem and underground station Maalbeek, also in Brussels. Those cowards from IS have killed 34 innocent people and more than 230 victims are still in hospitals all over the region. Some are still fighting for their lives. I have no words for these terrorist attacks...

Yesterday I woke up quite late in the morning. First thing to do in the morning: breakfast with a quick glance at Facebook. Unsuspectingly I opened my Facebook page and this is what I saw: 

My first thought: "No, this can't be true! No attacks in Belgium! Please God, no no no!" 
Unfortunately, a quick look at the news page showed me the undeniable truth: Brussels under attack! That was around 11 AM. Back then, it was unknown how many people had died and how many were injured, nor who had done it. Only later did we learn that 34 people had died and that more than 230 people had been transported to various hospitals in the region. Some are still fighting for their lives. Also, it had been announced that IS had taken responsibility for the bombing attacks. Those cowards, again! Killing innocent people, why? What's their purpose? 

I notice that all these terrorist attacks led by muslims are wearing heavy on my mind. I do know that not every muslim is a terrorist, but it looks like every terrorist is a muslim nowadays. I'm not a racist, nor a xenophobe, but I'm getting enough of it, to be honest. There is a slight possibility that today's suicide bombers were guys who had fought in the Syrian war. If only they had stayed in their own country! I'm getting irritated by those muslims that don't adapt themselves. And I don't know why, but when I'm outside, just strolling through the city, it seems that there are more and more of them, day after day. And what's even worse, it are these muslims that make us, christians, adapt ourselves to them, which seems so f*cking unfair to me. An example: to welcome a group of muslim fugitives in a christian building, people decided to put away all the crosses, in order to make the muslims feel more at home. How ridiculous is this?! Why do we put away our proper signs of our belief away? I mean, they won't certainly take off their kerchief?! 

Europe has been too tolerant with muslim terrorists and - if you ask me properly - with muslims in general. If they come here and they dress normally, they speak the country's language, send their children to school, participate in an activity in the society, well then I don't see any reason why they can't stay. And why not, they can maintain their religion, but they should it incorporate in our way of living. And if that means that they can't slaughter their sheep without anesthetics, well then they have to accept that, those are the rules WE have and they should just stick with these rules and not make a fuzz about it!

Still, I want to go back to their religion, their belief if you like that better. Is Allah really such a good god? Or should we put that in doubt? I haven't read the Koran, but I am reading the Bible. My God is not Allah. My God is a god of love. He loves his children, each and every one of them. He asks His children to divulge this message of love. He is not a god of war. However, if Allah really was a god of war, revenge, destruction etc., every muslim would be a terrorist. I think that those muslims we see on the news and all those who claim to be terrorists are no muslims at all, but just some perverts going loose and using Allah as an excuse to rectify their disturbed minds and actions. Actually, I think that many muslims will have to admit that, if these muslim terrorists claim that Allah guides them in their heads, Allah is not their god. In any case, he is not my God, because my God is a god of love, and that's exactly the message I want to divulge here: not my God! My God would never push me to kill other people in His name, He would never allow that! Therefore: 

If you could see me now

Dear grandma "mémé" Paula,

I know you're somewhere up there, up in heaven. I just wish you could see me now, see me from up there. I hope you're proud of me when you'r looking down on me. I know, mémé, that you had a hard time when I was admitted to the Belgian psychiatric hospitals. You were probably just scared, I'm not sure though, but I'm sure as hell you were not at ease with that situation. I can remember you were even feeling uncomfortable when I moved to the Netherlands. You thought my parents sent me here because they couldn't handle my psychiatric problems in Belgium. You thought I was constantly admitted here. Although some of these thoughts might have been true, not all of them were. You see, mémé, I was also doing some really good things here. I was studying and I did a great job. I was really good at it! Unfortunately you died too early to be able to notice that I got both of my BA and my MA degree Cum Laude. Yes, it was hard work, but I can now proudly say that I deserved it, because I worked hard for it. 

Dear mémé, if you could see me now, would you be proud of me? At least, you would see that, after all, I survived the admission at the CIB in The Hague. It was such a rough time, it truly was. It was a struggle to re-encounter my true self. Almost a year did I stay there. At the beginning I didn't want to cooperate, not at all. I was so mad, mad at the nurses, mad at my family, mad at the entire world, mad at myself... I just couldn't go on, all I wanted was to die. However, after a couple of months, I realised that cooperation might be the key to success. And, unbelievably, it was! That's why I survived the CIB, while many of my fellow patients haven't, don't and won't. Mémé, I worked so hard at the CIB, and I continue working hard during my weekly therapy sessions. However, the nagging pain won't give way, no matter how hard I try. It'll probably require more time, but the one-million-dollar-question is whether or not I'm willing to make that bet. 

Mémé, if you could see me now, would you see how much I've changed? Would you see that there's a warrior in me now? I've made the following agreement with myself: I don't want to be admitted to a psychiatric hospital anymore. Ever. It's been enough! Not only because I don't want it to happen anymore because of all the bad things that have happened, but also because it's not helping me. People with my kind of diagnosis - Borderline Personality Disorder - do need help and attention, but not in a clinical setting. There, they only tend to feel worse. They need people who listen to them when they go through rough times, but this can also happen in their own place, maybe - or maybe not - with the support of extra medication. 

Dear mémé, I hope you're so proud of me now when you see that within a couple of months I'll finally move to my own apartment. It's so beautiful, it's brand new, not far away from the city centre, in one word: ideal! I've had to wait for quite a long time until this opportunity presented itself, but I can now say it was worth all the waiting! I could hardly believe it when I read that incoming e-mail that said that I was candidate number 28 (out of 60) and that this meant that I could even choose! God knew what He was doing! Many times I ended up second or third on the list for a house or apartment in the city. I was quite disappointed back then, but I always hoped for something better. And now this... Incredible! 

Will things eventually get better from now on? Because it's not only the fact that I'll finally  - after nearly 14 years in a student's house - get a proper place that brightens up the future. On March 11th, my second book will be published. The first book has been sold over 130 times, which is not bad for a first book as a beginning author. I just hope that, if my grandma, "mémé"  Paula, were still alive, she would be very proud of me. She has always been a very important person in my life, someone to look up to, a strong woman, you know, always keeping the family together. She passed away on June 6th, 2010 and was 89 years old. Since then, she's been missed. Mémé, if you could see me now, what would you say? 

A place called home

Isn't this something what we're all longing for: A place called home? It's one of the needs of the human race: shelter. However, if we look back in time, the human being has adapted this shelter to its own whims. When we were still living in the prehistoric times, we used to decorate the walls of our caves. Now, this "shelter" takes on quite different shapes. A couple of weeks ago, I saw Cristiano Ronaldo's "shelter" on Facebook. It looked marvelous, that's the least I can say. If I compare it to the place I call home, well... Let's say there are some remarkable differences, not in the least the differences in luxury and space.

I've been living in the Netherlands for 13 years right now, and I haven't regretted it for most of the time. The only problem in comparison to the village where I used to live in Belgium is that here there really is a housing problem. Some seven years ago, I decided that I would probably stay here in the city of Leiden instead of going back to Belgium. That's when I realised I should have put myself on a list much earlier. Truth is, only after roughly six or seven years on the list do you qualify for a small house or flat. That is even a minimum, as I have experienced lately. 

Since I came back from the CIB (Centre for Intensive Treatment) I've been looking for a small house or flat in the beautiful city of Leiden. It hasn't been easy and unfortunately I haven't been successful. I've reacted a couple of times and I've been invited to a handful of visits. It gives you a good feeling to be invited, you know, you kind of feel a Very Important Person every time you end up in the top 10. However, every time I ended up second, third, fourth... Nearly, but not good enough. It really is kind of frustrating. Two weeks ago, however, I ended up first. I was so excited! This was the very first time I had it all in my own hands. Now it was up to me whether I took the house or not. I think I've been living on cloud nine for the entire week before the visit. At first, I was quite certain I would take it, especially since my parents and I paid the house a visit and saw that, from the outside, it looked old - it was build in 1926 - but thought that with some painting we could make something beautiful of it. However, three days before I'd go for the official visit, the house-building put an offer for 60 new estate apartments on the website, also in the city of Leiden and even quite near the city centre. I didn't know what to do. I was torn between two choices, because there were only 60 apartments available, so it would be a gamble. I could make a guess at the new estate apartments, or take an old house and make the best of it. What would you do?

So I went to the visit of two old houses in the same street. The first one was a huge deception. There was a lot of fungus in the dormitory, it was filthy. It was also smelly, there hung a bad smell in the entire house, the shower and kitchen were old... I decided not to take it, without even thinking about it. The other house in the same street was in a much better condition, and I had more difficulty in making my final decision, but I also rejected this one and I took a guess at the new estate apartment. I just knew that I wouldn't forgive myself if, in the end, I would turn out in a favourable position for the new estate apartments. 

My life has taken on a new dimension lately. Every morning, I check my position on the list. Every day is another deception, however... Whereas I started out on position 21, I am now on 65... It really was a gamble, as you can see. Still, there is hope. A woman from the house-building encouraged me to be hopeful. It's still possible that people in the first group refuse the offer or that they don't have the necessary papers. So that's what I'm doing right now: HOPING! The inscription will close on Tuesday the 26th of January. Only then will I know my final position and can I start hoping that people will cancel their inscription. Please people, keep your fingers crossed and hope together with me that at least 5 people will cancel their inscription or refuse the offer. Then I'll be the happiest Belgian girl in Leiden! I hereby invite you to my housewarming at the Prinsenhoek in Leiden, in May-June 2016 :)