Heart to Post

Heart to Post – About Dracula, Pyjama Pants And Simply Being Irresistible

This post is a bit long, but you’ll enjoy it nonetheless. I promise!

Well, whaddaya know, turns out I am irresistible! Go figure.

Fun fact: recently I’ve decided to take up battle with my hormones. If you don’t know me well enough: my hormones have a history of making me physically sick and their evil influence increased over time. To shut them down I went on hormone-regulated medicine, which worked fine for years, but started to show signs of weakness not too long ago.

I decided to tackle this problem once and for all. Step one was to stay off my medication and let my hormones think they run the show again, so I could knock ’em down for good.

As it turns out, though, after years of being suppressed, my hormones are quite slow on taking over. Meanwhile, I am experiencing some inconveniences of hormonal shifts in my body, such as being bloated.

Mainly being bloated.

And at that point, I’d like to start off my irresistible I-went-on-a-trip-to-Romania-story: a very bloated (and equally unhappy) me with my eldest sister W embarking on a foreign adventure.

Whether it were my hormones or the influences of the scorching sun melting everyone’s minds I do not know. What I do know is that during that seven day trip through Romania, I could have picked at least three guys to come home with me.

Now, if you didn’t know about my Battles Of The Hormones, you’ll probably also not know about my commitment issues. And by issues, I mean phobia. Anyone coming too close too fast to my likings, is met with an icy cold wall of ignorance, a silent treatment so quiet it’ll make you think I went deaf overnight, and me strapping on my running shoes quicker than you could mouth “I like you”, to run as far away from you as inhumanly possible.

Feel free to laugh about commitment-phobic me and three interestees. But save some for later when it truly becomes hysterical.

The love bite, it is the beginning. You will be irresistible - Bela Lugosi

Guy one was the lone traveller of our group. If you’ve ever went on a group travel, then you know there’s always at least one person in that group travelling alone. Just them. And the group.

Our lovely loner was a quiet, decent man who soon gave me the idea of being *yikes* into me. Luckily I had W, who disagreed wholly with that theory. So I did something quite unnatural: I stopped panicking.

Then one talkative night, the loner’s reaction to finding out I am single was a little too excited to my likings. But instead of hopping into my comfortable runners, I simply told him I am not looking for a relationship and left it at that. Result: no panic and no wooing. In that order.

Guy two was a bartender/waiter at a Romanian restaurant. W and me went there for a drink one night and we got chatting as I asked him after traditional Romanian food. He showed us the full menu and wouldn’t stop talking. At one point I mentioned W nearly breaking her neck due to the poor street work, after which W vows she heard him say to me: “Luckily it wasn’t you.”

And when me, W, the loner and a young couple went to dine at his restaurant on our last night in Romania, I kept receiving my food and drinks first and he kept growing more nervous every time he visited our table. But even after the woman of the couple jokingly mentioned: “Now I know why you wanted to come back here!” I managed not to freak out.

The worst one, though, was guy three: our final day consisted of a few hours in Bucharest and then flying back to Amsterdam. The weather had been too hot to wear my PJ’s, and I had slept in my underwear the whole week. Anticipating another uncomfortable flight (I swear my legs are too long!), I had put on my pyjama bottoms already. They are old sweatpants and nothing else I own is more comfortable.

So there I was, roaming Bucharest with twenty-three others, wearing my pyjama bottoms and being bloated still. The sun was out and I was slowly melting, so all in all I can honestly say I don’t think I’ve ever looked less appealing on a holiday.

“Like a moth getting trapped in the light by fixation, truly free, love it, baby”from: Irresistible by Fall Out Boy

Our guide, showing us around the capital city, suddenly spotted some policemen. He made his way over and our guide asked: “Who wants a picture with the police?”

Many of the ladies from our group, me included (still bloated, in pyjama bottoms and sweaty) eagerly posed next to the officers.

I mean… men in uniforms… I may have commitment issues, but I am not fully immune, thank you.

Afterwards, one of the officers rushed over to me (still bloated, in pyjama bottoms and sweaty) and asked to see the picture and if I could send it to him (NOOOO), so I said “Sure!” and he gave me his name to look him up on Facebook.

Now, even though I have no intention of ever reaching out to him (I thought he was quite creepy, despite his uniform), I still said yes because I was afraid of what he might do if I turned him down.

But that’s not the point. The real point is, I am irresistible (and still bloated and sweaty. It’s too hot for pyjama bottoms though).

No matter how sh*t I think I look, somehow, some people disagree. And no matter how lost I feel as a love cause, somehow, some people disagree.

I don’t get it either, but what I do get is that something has changed. Besides my hormones.

My perception of love, my panic attacks, my scares… Perhaps it was the magic of Romania, but I believe something inside me is no longer the same. Maybe it is time to let go of those old, comfortable running shoes, that silent treatment I carry around in case I need it, and my icy cold wall of ignorance. I honestly think I’ve outgrown them.

Maybe there’s hope for me yet 🙂

Oh, and about Dracula: he’s never really lived in Dracula’s Castle. Go figure.

Heart to Post

Heart to Post – How I Got To 61 In One Afternoon (An Insight Into My Thoughts)

 


Is this a quick peep into the future? Or is life merely playing tricks with my mind?

This I wonder as I sit outside, on a cloudy yet heavenly Summer day, picking up an old hobby in an attempt to create something new: knitting.

…19, 20, 21, 22…

I count the stitches in my head, all the way up to 61, to ensure I don’t make a mistake. Another mistake, I might add. The first five minutes of my knitting bonanza my mum had to come rush to my aid at least four times. Just goes to show what a knitting wonder I am.

Not.

…34, 35, 36, 37…

Tommy sits at my feet, is meowing for attention. The irony of me knitting away with a feline friend on my side does not escape me. Hence my question: is this what my future will look like? Me, desperately trying to not mess up my knitting while a cat lies at my feet, purring away my blues? Am I an old woman hidden in the body of a 32-year-old!?

Nah, impossible. I’ve already decided to become a crazy gerbil lady instead of a regular spinster. I think I’m good.

…54, 55, 56 – getting close now!

Wait, aren’t cats supposed to be obsessed with yarn? I make Tommy sniff my yarn ball and nothing happens. He just purrs and rubs his nose against it. Hmm… Maybe I should throw it away and he’ll go after it.

Nope. Better get up and fetch it myself, then.

 

This weekend’s forecast is mostly knitting with a chance of wineThe Art Of Knitting

 

…57, 58…

I’m never going to find my soulmate. Apart from all the ugly photos taken of me last Sunday (I’ve got such a weird face!), who’s ever going to accept my hobby? Knitting has got to be the least sexy thing on Earth, surely?

Ah well. At the rate I’m going, I’ll never get this scarf finished before mid-2025. At least.

Oh, nearly there!

…59, 60…

I suck at knitting. How come my mum can do this with whatever hand she chooses, two fingers up her nose and her eyes closed? Figuratively speaking, of course. And how is it that she’s so good at fixing my mistakes, while I have a hard time spotting them in the first place? I feel so blind… And stupid.

The only way I can knit something good, is by not making a single mistake. And for that, I have to keep counting. Which is just so…. monotonous. And boring.

…61!

Okay, pay attention here. You cannot let your thoughts stray, you need to do this stitch just right, as it’s literally forming the centrepiece of your scarf.

Wait! Have I just thought all this while counting?

Was I actually multitasking? I can think and count at the same time?

Maybe there’s hope for me yet, as a knitter. Who knows, perhaps one day I’ll manage to knit without counting!

But for now, that’s 61 more stitches to finish this row.

1, 2, 3, 4…

There is always more to us than we think there is ❤

 

Letters to Life

Letters to Life (55)

I seek peace within and not outside of myself. When I have found inner peace, I will not yearn for anything or reject anythingRandom Paper Wisdom


Dear Life,

The problem is I’m not really ambitious about anything. Except running. I know I am not a good enough runner to win any kind of competition, but I am ambitious in the sense that I want to improve myself. Running is easier to train and get better at faster than a lot of other things, Life.

My goal was to be able to run 7.5k and my training started off great! I impressed myself with hitting 7k as early as April this year.

Take in mind I started from a solid 5.5k basis and had given myself three months for every 500 metres increase. So April was better than I could have imagined! I felt sure I’d be running 7.5k easily long before December would knock on my door.

Unfortunately, you decided otherwise.

After hitting 7k two weeks straight, I experienced a major relapse as my body suddenly refused to make it past a meagre 5k.

Time to reconsider: go back to 5k and build up from there. For a while, this seemed to work and I crawled back to a shaky 6k.

The past four weeks I haven’t been able to hit my target distances, Life. My breathing is off and my mindset is rotten; I am not enjoying myself, because I know I’m incapable of hitting my goals.

Apparently, this happens to more people and they have a name for it: sports burn-out.

I assume this is your way of telling me to slow down and rekindle my running fire. Not by chasing high goals, but by going back to the basics and learning to enjoy my runs again.

Because in the end, that’s your most important lesson, Life: enjoy yourself. Be in the moment.

It’s good to strive for greatness, except when it makes you lose your appreciation.

Thank you!

 

 

 

 

 

Letters to Life

Letters to Life (54)

“If you love life, don’t waste time, for time is what life is made up of”Random Paper Wisdom (quote is from Bruce Lee)


Dear Life,

Recently, I have been struggling with finding my place and meaning in you, and what bothered me most was my sad excuse for a job.

I know, it pays the bills, but after cleaning houses for years on end, can you blame me for starting to find my work boring?

Then something changed. I am not sure what, exactly, but one day I was screening the internet for the best offer on Rhodiola Rosea Root (which worked magic during my Winter Depression), the next day this apparent solution became futile faster than sunshine can melt snow.

Why? I meditated.

I know, Life, it sounds so simple. But the thing is, I got stuck again in my ways. It happens so often that it’s nearly becoming an MO! I find difficulty in recognising I am malfunctioning, though, that’s why it took me a while before I realised what was wrong.

My “being stuck”-feeling this time was based on the thought that, by default, every peer was doing better than me handling you, Life.

So what broke the spell? Self-compassion. I felt the anger I have inside me towards myself for not being more like my peers, for failing, for being “unsuccessful”. When I grabbed that anger and forgave myself for being a “loser”, I felt it subside.

Self-compassion teaches you to live in the here and now, accept that as a human you are, per definition, imperfect. And most importantly: it teaches you to be kind to yourself.

Three things I didn’t realise I was in desperate need of, Life.

If Bruce Lee is right and time is all we have, then I don’t want to waste mine pouting over everything I don’t have. I want to celebrate you, Life, and everything you offer me.

Be kind, be good. Be happy.

Thank you ❤

 

 

 


Letters to Life

Letters to Life (53)

“Nothing ever remains as it was, nothing exists to stay the same” – Random Paper Wisdom


Dear Life,

Sometimes I feel like giving up. Quit everything and accept I have failed at you.

The moments I feel like this are the moments in which I stumble upon someone else’s success.

Like two weeks ago. I had just spent the day with my eldest sister feeding rescued donkeys at a Scottish sanctuary. Even if one of them bit my sister (seriously, who does that ever happen to!?) and another sneezed all over her, we had a great time.

The little biting culprit. Doesn’t he look adorable (and innocent)?

Afterwards, I was on our Air BnB’s sofa, all warm and cozy, waiting for my sister to finish up in the bathroom. To kill time I was gazing at Facebook updates when something caught my eye.

An old classmate had changed her last name. I clicked on her photo and immediately wished I hadn’t: she just got married.

Somehow someone I used to know taking such a big step confronted me with how little progress I feel I’ve made in you, Life. A familiar panicky feeling of standing still while the rest of the World moves on grabbed me by the throat and wouldn’t let go until the next morning.

Find a job and partner, buy a house and start a family. Even if these are not the steps I envision for my own future, Life, being confronted with others who do scares me.

What if this is what I should be aiming for?

I shouldn’t. That’s not me at all and you know that path would make me miserable beyond imagination.

You have different plans for me, Life, and even if sometimes I feel like quitting, you always know how to make me change my mind and be grateful I am here instead.

Nothing lasts forever. Feelings of happiness and moments of anxiety will always come in waves. And that’s what makes you, Life, worthwhile.