Heart to Post, Status Update

About All Kinds Of Issues

“Insomnia is a vertiginous lucidity that can convert paradise itself into a place of torture”Emil Cioran


Well, that writing challenge sure was over sooner than I thought… It’s been put on my list of things to do one day, yet I suppose we all know that’s code for probably never.

And I’m not even sorry about it.

For the past 29 days I have not really been sorry about anything. Like not working on my business – not sorry.

Neglecting my appearance – not sorry.

Not working out – not even going to try and be sorry about this one.

The thing is: I have insomnia. Don’t ask me what keeps me up at night, please, because I don’t know. I know it’s more than 1 thing, or else I’d be able to answer that question.

I know the English equivalent is about a camel and a straw, but in Dutch we say “it’s the droplet that makes the bucket spill”.

I feel as if I am the bucket, and I was doing okay, then all of a sudden all these small, seemingly irrelevant little things happened all at once and now I’m spilling over as if it’s the only thing I’m left knowing how to do.

I wouldn’t mind being this bucket, honestly. Come on, it’s a panda!

Things as my eldest sister turning evil and trying to feed me cherry pie. Like, really? I’ve hated cherries all my life, never even as much as eaten half a one, and you dare ask me if I’m sure I “don’t want just a small piece?” – talk about crap acting, too. She “did not get anything else as a treat for her 41st”, because she “assumed everyone would enjoy the cherry pie.” Imagine the whole family munching away and me sitting there with nothing.

And no, it’s not the cake. I couldn’t care less. It’s being excluded that hurt. Deliberately excluded. So there was that.

Then there was a series of happenings involving a series of ex-classmates. One of them started her own business, and even if she’s doing something completely different than me, she got double the Facebook likes in one week than I’ve managed to collect in two years. It makes me feel as if everyone sees it, you know, The Secret To Running A Successful Business, but me. I’m definitely missing something here, and it’s more than Facebook likes (which is funny, because I hate Facebook and normally don’t care too much for likes of any kind, anywhere. It’s just the thought of me doing something wrong and not knowing what).

About a month ago I’m driving my car and what do I see when about to hit a roundabout? A giant blown-up face of another ex-classmate who’s running for a local government office position (I don’t even know where to begin trying to explain this, so just picture a massive head on a poster and a terrible slogan to accompany it). It scared me. Not just the face (he is actually younger than me yet looks about 10 years older!), but the fact that he’s the main face of a big political local party and I am… where in my life, exactly?

Then my birthday comes along and I am not even allowed to take revenge on Evil Sister, because I live with my parents and, well, they just love to see their grandchildren munch away at home-made apple pie. So there you have it: my own sister treats me like sh*t, won’t talk about what’s bothering her and instead decides to go full passive aggressive on my butt, and I cannot even strike back because of her children. It’s like they’re her shield to avert attacks from outside. Yuck.

It feels as if I am still the doormat I have been trying so hard not to be. “Take the punches, but don’t ever think of hitting back or else I’ll keep the kids away from mom and dad and it will be your fault” – that’s what I hear, in my head. It’s quite possibly not entirely fair, but Evil Sister has once said: “Maybe I shouldn’t come home for a year and then they’ll respect me more, too” (referring to our other sister’s one-year disappearance act), so I am not keen on proving my theory either right or wrong…

And of course, my business is doing sh*t as well, and no, it’s not just COVID, it’s me! I have no *** idea what I am doing, and even if I am convinced I am a super coach (I actually really do believe I am great at coaching!), I lack in the Getting Clients department.

What also doesn’t help is that the person I hired to teach me all that jazz, a) has postponed the programme I enrolled in due to personal matters and b) possibly doesn’t understand me.

I am not like other people. You say things as social media following and I don’t get excited, I shiver. And what the heck would I do with email addresses if people were to sign up for my blog or website!? Why should I pester anyone with “special offers” when I’m really more into attracting people who already know they want a coach?

I’ve had coaching clients in the past. None of them signed up for any list, downloaded any free email clickbait or decided they should follow my persona because I am “so cool”.

I reckon it worked fine for all of us, really, but now all I hear is how building a list of emails is a must to be a self-employed coach (or anything else).

Al I am trying to say is that I don’t get it, the whole entrepeneuring-thing. To me, following what everyone else does because it works feels… fake. If there’s only one way of becoming a successful self-employed coach, wouldn’t that mean we’re all essentially doing (and being) the same? The same motives, the same techniques, the same methods, the same websites, the same stories, all over and over. Endlessly repeated like we’re The A-Team reruns on TV. How can you stand out when you’re only ever copying others?

There has got to be a different way, surely? But… I haven’t found it yet and so far it’s kept me from having had any clients in 2020. So, do I relent or do I keep fighting?

Anyway, to sum it all up: my life feels like a joke. And it’s a feeling that’s been simmering in the background, but has come to a boil due to all these separate events that quickly followed one another.

Have I mentioned yet that what keeps me up at night is my head spinning? As if I can’t turn it off, no matter how tired I am (and I am tired!! So, so tired!). My heart often beats so loud it’s as if it’s trying to come out of my chest, and every time I am about to fall asleep, I am immediately jerked back to sleeplessness by a panic attack or two, that increase in waves and force as the night lingers on.

My doctor (who is finally retiring!! BEST NEWS OF 2020!!) prescribed me highly-addictive sleeping pills that work – sometimes. Sometimes they don’t.

At least they’ve given me a goal for 2021: detoxing.

December 3rd is my date with – irony inserted here – a GP-linked coach.

In five days I am going to talk about my issues with a man who has the job I want.

Who knows, maybe he can give me a hint or two.

This post is growing much longer than I’d imagined… Perhaps I have more on my mind than I thought, after all – and this is just the tip of the iceberg, really.

Anyway, that’s why I’ve been even more silent than I normally am: I don’t sleep. I am exhausted all day long, yet when it is time to close my eyes and drift off, all I do is panic.

And I wish I could say I am not sorry about that, but I am. Very much.

I refuse to give up, though. So what if I am different and it’s hitting me harder than it’s ever done before? I’ve had a long walk and talk with a good friend yesterday, and it’s helped me clear some things up.

And then there’s this last song, of course. My personal anthem, if you will. I don’t give up. I don’t run. Not from panic attacks, not from Evil Sisters and surely not from really scary giant old-looking men’s heads on posters (although when encountered in real life, I’d definitely run!).

You don’t get me down. I know, you keep me up.

But you also give me plenty of time to overthink my strategy.

Luctor et emergo.

I struggle and overcome – again and again and again. And again.

Here’s to everyone suffering from anxiety, stress, insomnia or all of the above:

We might not sleep. But we don’t run away from our problems, either.

 

 

 

gifs from Giphy

Heart to Post

About All Kinds Of Emotions & One Kind Of Remedy

“My moods are like a roller coaster. It’s hard for me to just feel one way all the time”Tierra Whack

 

This week, my To Do List topped:  Strangle my gynaecologist.

I am not an aggressive person and I don’t believe in using violence to solve a problem, but I can honestly say that if I had seen that woman sometime during last Monday or the days following, she would have had an incredibly hard time getting away from me without a scratch. Or two.

For those of you who don’t know me (too) well: I’ve been having severe weekly nausea attacks combined with all kinds of physical craziness for the unhappy period of about nine months, ever since I stopped taking the pill. For the full story I suggest you browse older posts as I am done with that chapter of my life.

Anyway, the gynaecologist already mentioned concluded my cries for help with: “it’s definitely not the hormones”, that it was “all in my head” and that I should go and “talk to someone about it.”

Very long story very short: I talked to someone about it. It’s not in my head.  And last Monday I found out my physical maladies ARE 100% hormonal!

AND THERE IS A REMEDY!

Thank goodness for Google being brilliant and my low blood pressure being persistent, because the combination of the latter with PMS in the almighty search box gave me what I’ve secretly been craving for nine months: a possible cure.

Vitex agnus castus  (monk’s pepper) is a homeopathical supplement that is used to help women balance out their hormones.

Vitex Agnus Castus or Monk’s Pepper is often used to help women deal with physical complaints due to hormonal disbalances

Can you imagine how upset I was to learn I’ve been sick more on than off for three quarters of a year while this stuff was out there already, making women like me feel better every day!?

That, basically, I’ve been sick for no reason? That my physical problems could have been prevented?

I fully realise that a homeopathic supplement is a “natural remedy,” which are hardly ever recognised by regular health care. And that even if it works wonders on countless women worldwide, it might not do anything for me, personally.

But I still went and bought two bottles of it right away!

The reason why Monday made me angry enough to want to strangle my gynaecologist is mostly because I was so relieved to find this possible remedy. To me, it was proof that I am not crazy and this is a real thing!

Then the sadness hit me because I started counting back the nine months since I got sick, all which might have been prevented if only I’d known about this sooner…

And I have been really sick. Despite no longer grounding me to my bed or returning weekly, the nausea attacks still creep up on me regularly and drain my energy in total. So yes, sadness for all that’s happened.

But… if Monday was a dark roller-coaster, Tuesday left no doubt in what I felt: happiness, because my package arrived within 24 hours of ordering Monk’s Pepper, and hopefulness that mine, too, will turn into a success story!

To Do List: Strangle my gynaecologist Tackle my hormones once and for all.

 

 

 

 

What was on your To Do List this week? How did you go about that?

Aside

Songs Lost, Songs Found

I accidentally-yet-happily stumbled upon this gem recently. I think it was a song we had to learn in music class 100 years ago in high school, but I am not sure. What I am sure about, is that I completely forgot about its existence until I saw it mentioned somewhere (was it a Google prompt? I forgot).

I love you, I.

My head is so full with old doubts it’s hard to remember new things. My heart is (strangely) at ease, yet there’s a thin layer of sadness covering it. But when I hear this song I feel 100% alive.

Today would have been my niece’s 3rd birthday. Her name was another flower. Seems only right to share this rosy one with you here ❤ ❤ ❤

Letters to Life

Letters to Life (59)

“What comes up, must come down. But you and me, we’re floating above the ground”Mika (from: Stay High)


Dear Life,

After months of looking forward to it, February 13th was finally there: Mika’s concert in the Netherlands!

I can’t say I am a huge fan, Life, because you and me both know I am too lazy practical to spend a whole lot of time figuring this man’s life out (nor do I really care that much), but I do very much appreciate his music and live shows.

His latest album had been living inside my CD player for months, which was my most active attempt at getting his new songs down in time before the gig.

It’s just a little disappointing that I lost my voice a day before. But I reckon squealing along is better than sitting at home crying.

Mika’s show ended up teaching me a valuable lesson (or two) as well:

First, Life, I did not know it was humanly possible to have so much fun. Or maybe I forgot. People from all ages, cultural backgrounds and social statuses came together to have a blast – which we did. For one night, for a few hours, none of it mattered. We were all alike. Problem-, worry-, and hate-free.

Second, after searching the web for pictures of the show afterwards (I am always too lazy busy singing and dancing to take any myself), I accidentally found out Mika’s mother is ill. Very ill. Not-sure-she’s-going-to-make-it-ill.

If I was amazed at his performances before, I’m even more so now. For I can slightly imagine the horrors he must be facing, since my mother’s been there, too.

Which is exactly why I closed off my internet immediately, ran to my mum and held her.

She’s here still. I have her. I’ll lose her one day, but not today.

Enjoy yourself, but never take anything for granted ❤

Or, in Mika’s words: “Love today.”

 

 

 

 

Heart to Post

HEART TO POST – From A Secret Admirer To Her Secret Cellist: A Lyrical Letter

“One good thing about music: when it hits you, you feel no pain”Bob Marley

Dear secret cellist hiding in my street: you need to practice more.

Your notes sound off-tune and you cannot play a recognisable song decently. The force behind your strokes is unbalanced and they often sound weak, as if you miss the willpower to show your musical instrument who’s in charge. The melodies you play are too light and easily hide behind the Summer winds or go astray in the Autumn skies, fleeing upwards, eager to escape their earthbound destiny.

And their destiny, I am sure, is to make my heart beat with happiness.

Hearing you play makes me want to close my eyes in silent rejoice, letting your music fill my soul with an instant happiness and a gratefulness for being under your spell.

The colours of your music find their way into my head and heart, pushing out every bad memory of the day, week or even the year. For when I hear you practice, I lose track of my burdens and my only desire is to enjoy!

To me, it doesn’t matter you restart countless times in order to get it right. It doesn’t bother me that the music notes coming my way are muffled through numerous walls or are impurified by traffic noise in the background. The sweet sound of your cello makes up for everything. Even if it’s merely a hint, a glimmer I catch of it, it leaves me longing for more.

The first time I heard you practice was on a lovely Summer day and I can’t descrive how delighted I was when I first recognised the deep, warm sounds of your cello. You made my day perfect and I was quick enough to discard my book, lean back and close my eyes, thinking only how lucky I was for having someone who would undoubtedly play my favourite instrument often and make my heart sing equally frequently.

However, the second time I heard you practice was only a few days ago. Through my bathroom wall the faint remainders of the notes you must have been playing a few doors down waltzed in. I don’t even remember what I was doing, because the moment my ears picked up on your exercise, that’s all that mattered. Pure joy.

It’s the simplest things in life that cause the most happiness and you working to grow your talent is one of my happy flaws, I am ready to admit.

So yes, your notes are unbalanced and your strokes sound weak. Your melodies easily escape into thin air, but they are never quick enough to escape my ears. And even if you have a long, long road ahead of you of becoming better and better still, I like what I hear. I like how you make me feel.

Unknowingly, you make me a happier person. And there is always room for more happiness in my life. Therefore, I appeal to you:

Dear secret cellist hiding in my street: you need to practice more.