Battle scars

A couple of weeks ago, we had a family reunion. My grandparents celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. That was a good reason for me to go to Belgium and see my family. Usually I don't go too often to my home country. Not because I don't like to go there, but because it's a 4-hour journey and traveling from here to there is getting more and more expensive. Furthermore, I don't have any friends living there, almost all my friends live here close by in Holland. However, sometimes we have these birthday parties or other special celebrations, enough reasons for me to go back home.

Grandparents with grandchildren

So, I was there at this wedding anniversary party, and the entire family from my mother's side was there. I was especially happy to see my two nieces. They've grown a lot and almost lost all their childish characteristics! I can hardly believe they're almost 9 and 12 years old! But then the youngest one comes to me, settles down in my lap and asks me the following question: "Auntie, what are those wrinkles on your arms?" I was completely baffled because I hadn't expected that question to be honest. I mean, it's not the first time she asks me this question, and it was a really hot summerday,  so I could have seen it coming. But I hadn't.

So I tell her somehow modestly that I'll explain that to her when she's a little bit older. However, she's stubborn and insists on me telling her that story now. I feel unbelievably uncomfortable and try to change the topic. It doesn't work. I feel hopeless. I want to tell her she has to ask her mom, but I'm afraid my sister will get mad at me if I send her away with this kind of advice. So I don't. And try to change the topic, once again. And I fail, once again. 

What do I want to tell her? Do I just want to tell her I did this to myself, because once I felt so bad and sorry for myself that I had to cut myself in order to save myself? In order to feel better? To survive? No, that's not what I want! What I actually want to tell her, is that those are battle scars, scars of a war I've fought, a war that is actually still not over. But what will she ask then, because, honestly, this child is extremely curious, and won't take that for granted!

Somehow, that's what they are: battle scars. And actually I should be proud. What a war has it been! I'd been cutting myself for roughly eight years before, one day in March 2008, I decided it should stop. It had been enough. I'd been tormenting myself for eight long years, without respecting myself for the person I was, without taking into consideration the long ride it had been. It had all started in the year 2000, and things got completely out of hand. At a certain point in time I used to cut myself three times a day. But look where I am right now: almost a year back home after being admitted at the CIB for a year,  without meaningful crises, in my own apartment now, doing great, trying to find a job and participating in society. Yes, I should be proud, but it isn't easy... especially because people don't value me for the person I am. 

Keep your eyes open for my next post! Then I'll try to give an overview of what I have achieved in the last year since October 5th! 

So sorry

Who ever thought a year ago that I would be where I am right now? Well, I bet you didn't! Neither did I, to be honest. Things can change drastically within a relatively small amount of time. As can thoughts and views about life.

I've done stupid things in life. So did you probably. But I mean really stupid things, things that I now truly regret. Things that I can't turn back, in no possible way. And the thing is, while doing that, I hurt a lot of people. People were shocked, astonished and maybe even scared. Yes, I'm talking about the cutting thing. I shouldn't have done it. Ever. But I guarantee you, I didn't do it to get people's attention. No way! I did it because I had no other way to cope with these crappy emotions. I couldn't deal with life. It was just too hard, too difficult, too much. And I was too weak, too small, alone and lost in this world. I didn't do it to hurt anyone but myself. I wanted to survive. I wanted to be there for everyone but myself. It was just my way to deal with a life that wasn't fit for me. You see, some people get a ready-made life. Others get a - well, less ready-made life, a life they still have to figure out themselves, like a gigantic puzzle consisting of 1,000 pieces that all seem to resemble themselves. And then it gets way too complicated. 

I could have acted differently, but there's no guarantee that that would have been less damaging. Some people find their solution in alchohol or drugs. Others in crime. I don't think these are healthier ways. Only a couple of others find a healthier way, but then I talk about people who are emotionally stable. I'm sorry I wasn't, I really am. But what do you expect? I grew up in an atmosphere of fear, without a sibling who showed real interest in me. I'm emotionally as stable as my mom, which means not at all. It's not her fault, it's no-one's fault really. It just happens. And then me being bullied at school, that didn't really help. Also, I already was a very insecure person. I had a bad self-image. As my therapist explained once to me: I'd learned to see myself as a bad person in a good world rather than see myself as a good person in a bad world. Makes sense, you know. All these factors led to me cutting myself. And you know, once I carved the word GUILTY in my left arm. You can still see the letter G very clearly. Fact is that I still feel guilty when people in my family start a fight, something that is actually happening at this very moment... I just can't help it, it happens :(

I'm so sorry, people, for having cut myself and having left you in disgust. But I can't say that I wouldn't do it again if everything would start all over. However, I do feel guilty. Also, I'm sorry for my suicidal expressions. I take authority over them and I am so sorry that I didn't take your feelings into consideration. When I was standing on the roof of that parking garage, 13 high, I never thought about you. I was only thinking about myself, about how much I'd suffered already and how much I'd wanted it to be over. I'm so sorry I didn't think about what your life would look like without me in it. About the emptiness I'd leave into your lives. I didn't think about me being selfish. I only thought about my own life, about how desperately I'd wanted it to end. Now, however, things have changed. It's been 9 months since I said goodbye to the clinic, and things have finally turned out in my favour. I have my own apartment, with new furniture, mom and dad who helped me to get it all ready to live in and believe me, it's my own little palace. I love living here! And my thoughts about life have radically changed. I now don't fear life anymore, I do fear death though. I want to try to get most out of life now, while that's still possible. All those years in which I was playing hide and seek with death... What a waste! I now see and realise that I have to start getting everything out of life that I can. And I guarantee you, I will. No more cutting words in my own flesh, no more playing games with death, no. It's time to enjoy life and thank God for my blessings! 

United as one

As I'm writing these first words of this post, I'm in the most comfortable position ever. For the first time I'm writing a blog post from my own couch, in my own appartement. Yes, God has finally blessed me with a house. At the age of 33, and after having lived nearly 14 years in a 3 by 4 student's room, I have a place of my own, quite near the centre of Leiden. I do realise that it's a blessing, especially in these tough times where affordable housing is a huge economical problem. Mind that I'm especially blessed because I've been given a whole new appartement, which makes that it's extremely nice to work and live in. Everything, mind you, everything, is new. Not only the apartment an sich, but also the furniture, the refrigerator and everything... I even bought a new television! 

The television is serving a bigger purpose at this moment: last Friday, Euro 2016 started. Yes, I like football. Yes, I try to see as many matches as possible. It's a pity though that the Netherlands haven't qualified this time. I've been living in this beautiful country since 2002 and as long as I've lived here, they've always been present at European and World championships. That's why it's so tough that they haven't been able to qualify. It's even more than that: in my opinion, these championships make you feel part of a bigger whole. I know what I'm talking about, because as a Belgian, we haven't been able to qualify for many years. I can remember that it took us more than 10 years to qualify for one of these big events. Two years ago, we made our comeback in Brazil, and we played well. This year we're back in France, and expectations are high. The team has grown ever since Brazil, they have learnt from their mistakes. The question remains though: will they be able to live up to the expectations? 

Europe seems to be united as one during Euro 2016. We as football fanatics seem to be enjoying this big football feast. Every country seems to be united and celebrating - except Holland, so it seems. And on the other side of the world, in the Americas, the Copa América gives the football fans in that part of the world enough reason to celebrate their football feast. However, it seems we're not all united as one. We might be celebrating, but there are other communities that are mourning at this very moment. Of course I'm referring to the LGBT community. What happened a couple of days ago in Orlando,Florida, cannot be approved of. It's disgusting. Another muslim takes action in the name of his faith and kills 50 innocent people! Why in the world is this happening? I'm asking myself, why do you kill in the name of your faith? Isn't faith a testimony of LOVE? I mean, I believe in God, because God is LOVE. Because God loves me, and everyone who wants to be loved. I can't, don't and won't understand that you kill in the name of your God, whichever name you give Him. 

God is LOVE. That's the first rule I've ever learned when I accepted God in my life. So either you kill in your own name, and not in the name of God, or you don't know what faith is. Last week I received a flyer in my mailbox. It said that Islam doesn't support any act of terrorism, that it even condemns every act of terrorism. I understand why people start to put these flyers in the mail. It just seems that all these muslims don't understand what faith is. I do notice these thoughts of hatred against muslims in my own head when I see a muslim on the road. I know it's probably not fair to condemn just any muslim on the street, but maybe it's just my own weakness. I won't even say I'm sorry, because I don't feel sorry. I just wish they would stop killing our people. It makes me mad and sad that they kill non-muslims. They kill our people because we aren't muslims. Bullshit! My God would never ever command me to kill in the name of Christianity! Okay, a long, very long time ago, in the Middle Ages, we had the Crusades, but that's a very long time ago. Been there, done that. We don't do that anymore! We live in the 21st century. So the muslims don't have any excuse to keep on killing in the name of their faith! Anyone who attacks my thoughts has to remind him/herself that then, they probably approve of the killings in the name of Allah. 50 innocent people have been killed in Orlando because they are LGBT. Because they aren't muslim. Because they are a little bit different. How much longer are we going to approve of these killings by radical muslims? How much longer are we going to accept radical muslims in our modern societies?