Running Away

I know the title seems weird but it was the first thing that came into my head. Don't fret.

But I guess running is an appropriate word for what I'm feeling these days. With all the social conceptions that I hear about "staying put", "you've made your bed, now sleep in it" and "gaining with suffering", the only thing that I feel with these words is the need to run as fast as I can. I'm not saying that people should run away from responsibility or blame, no sir, what I am saying is that one should never stay in a place or situation where there is suffering either caused by the situation or by repeating the same thing over and over again.

A few days ago I had a moment where I hated everything and everyone. It was a violent fit where nothing was safe from being screamed at. And it all revolved around one thing: me hating what I'm studying. To say the least it's gotten to the point where I cannot feel anything but pain when I think of myself being stuck in a "clinic" listening to what other people are saying. Summing it all up: I cannot be empathic in a psychologic way. Another thing that I hate is the whole "Since I'm a psychologist my behavior towards others, no matter how weird or offensive, is acceptable." and I don't mean this as a "I love being eccentric" thing, that's fine. I mean this in a "I'll be weird on purpose." thing. God, I've had enough of it.

Speaking of doing things that people hate, I have a perfect example of the result of it. My grandfather wanted to be a doctor, a boxer and a profesional social drinker (I know it sounds weird, but in the 50's that was accepted). And he was going to go to med school and he had done some boxing when his family said "You are going to be an accountant and you'll work for us when you are done studying." Being the man that he was, a quiet man when challenged, he accepted it against his will because he was raised with the idea that mom and dad are always right. To make a long story short, he became an accountant, worked for his parents (by working I mean giving money to them), got married to the woman of his dreams, had kids, then grandkids, and then one day he got sick. He started to have a little bit of stomach trouble and started to loose weight like an anorexic on crack, his voice and strength started to fail him. After a month he decided to take a test and the test came back with a horrible result that sounded more like an irrevocable judgment made by a cruel court: stomach cancer. Later I understood what gave him stomach cancer, another doctor told me and it made perfect sense. He said to me "Your grandfather held a job he hated for nearly 60 years, and in all those years he never said anything. Never tried to change jobs, never expressed his anger, he had to deal with clients and people who aren't and will never be good people, he never took time for himself, and always repressed what he wanted to really say and feel. He bottled everything up, ever since your great grandfather made him study accounting." It was a horrible lesson to learn, seing somebody who could have been anything he wanted to be in his life reduced to something that only felt that tumor growing inside, seeing that that's what people could become when stuck doing something they hate for the rest of their life.

When something isn't working for you, it doesn't matter what other people think (they aren't living your life, really), it doesn't matter what your family thinks (it's your life not theirs), find what really awakes your soul. If it's dancing, dance; if it's painting, paint; if it's writing, write; if it's creating anything, create. Find what awakes your soul.

OCD anyone????

The interesting thing about studying psychology is that one meets very interesting people. Or at least they seem interesting and no longer strange, since we know the inner workings of the mind from the very start. But sometimes we meet people who are so strange that they border the line of incredibly original. 

Last night, as I was waiting for the teacher to walk into the classroom I started to think about how I've become more tolerant around people (the only good thing that I can really say I learned well) but this night would be different. This night would be a night were my patience would be tested beyond belief and a confirmation for me that I'm not a true born psychologist. Anyway, enough rambling, the teacher walks in wearing grey (I was reminded of 50 Shades of Grey, disgustingly enough) and she's wired. And I mean really wired. She starts talking about how she thought that the class was later and that she thought that the class was on the first floor instead of the fourth. And as she started to speak I had the feeling that something weird was happening, and for a psychology student saying weird it means that it was weird. She says to us "Don't touch me, don't hug  me, don't shake my hand. I hyperventilate." and she started to breath hard (apparently she hyperventilates for everything). 
Then as she proceeded to tell us what the class for the next 4 months was going to be like she ended each sentence with "Blah, blah blah, you know." This is the moment when I thought to myself  I don't know if she wants to be cool or she simply doesn't care about the class. I was oddly reminded of Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory for a moment when she commented that she counted every time the times the traffic lights change from green to yellow, smiling in a very "I NEED TO SEEM NORMAL" sort of way after telling all of her stories. And what I find most interesting is that she specializes in teenagers (think about that one).

Now I know that she might be different when treating her patients, but for me, I don't think that ending each sentence with "Blah, blah, blah, you know." and smiling in a way that makes it look like her face hurts all the time will probably not help me in class. I've had difficult teachers in the past, but this one takes the gold medal (flowers included). 

Lucid Dreaming and Day Dreaming

I've realized something today: I haven't dreamt anything in a week. What could be happening? I fall asleep, thanking the universe for my bed, and then nothing. Maybe it's because school is about to start again, or maybe because I'm not sleeping well. But I miss dreaming, especially dreams of love.

What I love most about dreams is that they give you the chance to discover that you're dreaming. What I love to do is to have that moment where I say to myself "I'm dreaming! Let's what happens next." And when I feel something not going the way I want it to, I change it. I guess it could be a lesson for life: change whatever you don't like into something that you love. And now I realize that's it's simple, very simple. If I keep on doing what I do every single day, nothing new will come to me. But if I change just one thing, one little thing, I can change the outcome of anything. I find that exciting: nothing is set in stone and stones wear and erode.

I think we should all be like hummingbirds: living the moment.

Sleepless Nights

On nights like these I start having what I like to call "mind rambling". I start having ideas, snippets of songs, images, stories, etc. that come suddenly to me. I cannot really say they come from my conscious mind or if I'm starting to dream awake, but what I can say is that I find it quite interesting.

Tonight I'm having several things going through my mind; two of them being "kisses that taste of english tea." and "I should dance again." I loved the feeling that I would get when moving my body to the rhythm of a melody or song and then the thought that comes to me is "Why did I stop?" and I come to a simple conclusion: I need to finish what I started.

Now regarding the "kisses that taste of english tea" thought. That's a no brainer: something that happened because I asked the universe for it, and I don't regret it. In fact, I loved it so much that I replay the first time it happened over and over again. As I do so, my whole being tingles with the memory of it and I realize, like a flash of light in the darkness: it's one of the warmest memories that I have. On a scale from 1 to 10 I would say that it's an 11. Most of you will say "But it was just a kiss, there's nothing special about a kiss." Then I would have to say, quite plainly, "You're not me." To say the least, it's a memory that I would love to repeat over and over again in rel life as well as in the dream world and in memory.

So I end this post with a prayer "Dear Universe, in my list of things that I want for me and for the world one of them is this: for everyone to find their life partner. A person who is both friend and lover, a person whose shoulder is to lean on and viceversa, a confidant. Whose kisses and embraces make the world seem like a better place, a person who makes everything feel like walking on clouds. A person who understands desires. And for those who have found them already, cherish them. For those who are at a distance, be patient, you will be together again. Find and love each other, and never let go."

  

Freedom

Breathing in the morning, I think of freedom. Watching the swaying trees in my backyard, I feel freedom. But I can't help but wonder why I have to become what others want of me. My family wants something of me and I want something out of myself. And not to mention what society wants out of me, especially in this country. Even though I form part of the society I was born in, I feel separate from it. I feel the same with my family.

As I ponder on freedom, a sequence of images go through my mind of what I know freedom feels like. A bird breaking free from a cat's deadly claw, a child jumping into a pool without a care in the world, a wild race between friends in a field feeling the wind, crowing in delight when jumping up towards the sky, swimming up towards the surface and taking that refreshing breath of air, riding a horse and letting go of the reigns, dancing until your body says "enough!" but you can't stop. Events and circumstances that make the heart sing, cheeks going red and breathing heavy with laughter and happiness. I need that in my life, in fact, we all need that every single day.

I want freedom for all.

Midnight Kisses

I sit here listening to "The Cave" by Mumford and Sons, and the only thing that crosses my heart is the feeling of missing somebody. Being halfway around the world isn't fun, it's rather depressing. 
I cling to the memory of kisses in the dark that taste of english tea, hands that fit in mine, embraces that seem to last forever and that sweetly choke the air out me, cologne that makes my senses spin, and soft skin and lips that seem to dance on me leaving a mark on my soul. Things that make me realize that I got what I asked for, but I forgot the fine print: I live halfway around the world (something that can always be fixed).


There are moments in my days when I stare at the sky, or at a plant leaf and remember. Smiles, laughs, cheers cross my mind making my body go numb and tingly at the same time. Maybe I'm making a big fuss about what happened, but I don't care, it's what I feel. Is it wrong of me to feel what I'm feeling? Should I feel less? I place my hand over my heart, close my eyes and wonder either out loud or to myself "Are you feeling the same?" I ask angels to send you red roses in my name and if you see butterflies, don't worry, it's only me letting you know that I'm keeping you in my heart safe and sound. 


If you've been hurt in the past, I'm sorry I wasn't there to hold you and tell you "Everything'll be alright, I promise." I wish I could've been there, I really do. But I'm here now, waiting for us to be together again. What can I say? I fell in love with you the day we met. That's right, I fell in love with you the day I met you. It was and still is the happiest moment in my life. The moment you took my hand in yours when the lights went out, gazing into my eyes, I knew that it was no accident that I met you. 


I don't care if I sound cheesy, I'd rather be cheesy than dishonest.