Do You Really Want to Know How Insane I am?

Some days one wakes up feeling like shit or rather that the world is shit and since you are a part of it, you yourself is entirely made of shit too.

Today was one of those days.
I do not know if it had to do with falling asleep with a splitting head ache or if it had to do with the fact that the sun forgot to rise today.

But I woke up and the first thought in my head was “I am not good enough for him!”

Why this should be true I do not know. Since I am better looking than him, much smarter and overall nicer than the loved one. But even so, I woke up thinking “Nah, there must be someone better for him!”.

And from there on it starts, the stories I build up in my head.
I mean all of my free time and some of my un-free time goes to making stories or movies in my head. Many times I am actually "writing" in my head as the story progresses. I will go back and erase words or changes phrases. (Nuts!)

Every since I was a kid I would play the “worst case scenario” scenes over and over again like a mantra in my head. If we were in a car I would make movies about for instance the breaks failing on a downward hill and what would happen in the short span of time before impact into the deep ravine.
Every movie is different. Sometimes we would survive and other times we wouldn’t.
I would try to figure out in what way could we survive. Pulling the hand break? Swerving in a zig zag way till the car slowed down and came to a stop? What if there was a lot of meeting traffic? Maybe doing a sharp turn so that the car would point up wards or sideways over the road?

And then if this didn’t work, what happens after impact? Do I survive and nobody else? And in what way would I be hurt? What would the pain be like? When and how would I be rescued? How would it feel to lose the person sitting next to me?

But maybe I die and the others in the car would survive? Hmm? In this case I would probably find bliss in my heart, cause after death there is serenity. No more worries. Nothing to wonder or make movies about. If my movie ended with death for myself it would be good.

But the main movie of today was “He Met Someone Better!”. It was quite a good film.

First scene: How do I find out.

Do I catch them in the act? Maybe he tells me or maybe worse, a friend of his tells me?
And then what, what do I feel?
What is my first reaction, throw up? Getting that “ice cold pail of water falling on top of you”-feeling?

Second scene: What so I do next.

Do I coolly pack my stuff and leave?
Throw a tantrum and break a few glasses and plates over his head?

Third scene: Does he regret

Does he come begging for my return? And how do I react to that?

Usually I watch the movie over and over again, each time changing a setting or a phrase or an action and trying the different emotions out.

Its like testing to see how I feel about something that might happen but hasn’t yet. Like an emergency plan made up beforehand so that when the thing actually does happen I will know how to deal with it because I’ve done it or a version of it a hundred times before.

Now don’t get me wrong, this isn’t about my love or any love for that matter. This is what I do with every single event in my life. If I am to have dinner with a friend, I will beforehand make a movie about how the dinner will be. Tasty, disgusting, friendly, argumentative…

Every day will have at least ten different movies in various genres, today was a day full of negative energies so it is not a good day to give as an example, but here is todays repetoire:

Matinees:
“He Has Met Someone Better”
“My Friend will Overdose and Die”
“The Gas Station is Leaking and all the Neighbourhood will Explode”
“My Best Friend Committed Suicide Last Night”
“My Mum and Aunt were in a Car Crash”
“He Has Met Someone Better”
“My Dad is Sick”

Evening shows:
“He Has Met Someone Better”
“My Friend will Turn into Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde from all the Drugs”
“Telling the Boss’s Boss that the Boss is Shit”
“New Work Site up North”
“He Has Met Someone Better”
“My Dad is Sick”
“Death in a Car Crash”
“Headaches from a Brain Tumour”
“Wisdom Tooth – Goodbye!”
“He Has Met Someone Better”

and the last movie of the night will be “Arrgh! I hate the Soppy Comments to this Post”.

Now off to bed with head still splitting.

Drama Mama

For some weeks now, my sister and I have complained about a strange sour smell in our mother’s car. Today my mother phoned me at work sounding very distraught:

- Oy sweetie… I found out what the smell came from…
- Did you? What was it?
- Oy sweetie… it was something DEAD!
- Really! What?! A mouse?!
- No! But it was terrible! Absolutely terrible!
- Yes I suppose it was, But what was it? A rat?
- No not a rat!
- What then? A frog?
- Nooo! It was a…PEAR!!! And it was all brown and disgusting and soft and I had to touch it. Oy! It was TERRIBLE sweetie!

Parents

A difficult species, parents are the two beings one is born from and then grow up with.

Two people, who love you unconditionally. Or so they think?

Two personalities, with their own lives that they have lived to the fullest. Or rather not?

Two grown ups. who say when you are little “As long as you are happy, we don’t mind what choices you make in life” and then when you get a little bit older they say “Maybe it would be better if you take flute lessons instead of guitar, it’s a much nicer instrument”.

A father, who dotes on the child and loves her to bits by singing and telling her stories and answering all those impossible questions of an innocent. But when she gets old enough to see his unhappiness and she asks about it, he breaks her heart into bits, by ostracizing her. Taking away her right to his words, by silencing her world.

A mother who dresses her daughter lovingly up in flower patterned dresses and rosettes in her hair, praising her prettiness. But when that same daughter grows up, the mother’s focus turns to the ugliness of the legs or the scruffiness of the hairstyle.

A dad who says “I refuse to send our daughter to the University of Arts Saint Martin’s in London, she will suffer terribly from homesickness” just because he dropped out of the same school and also because he would suffer from longing, even though our relationship was silent.

A mother who wishes for me to find a nice proper man with a good education preferably a doctor or lawyer and it would be nice if he was Polish as well. But when I find a proper Polish man with a good education she still tries to hook me up with other guys.

A man who still says “As long as you are happy I am happy” but when I, his daughter tell him I am moving to another country to be with my love, to be happy, he suddenly breaks his silence and tells me in icy cold hard words about the stupidity of my choice.

Why is it so hard to walk away from that? Why is it impossible to let the words slide off my back without touching me? Why is the bond so strong to these people so hard to break? Why do I still feel so guilty?

Phone Call from Mum

- Hello my sweet daughter! I’m reading a good book and it reminds me of you!
- Ok? What book is it?
- You know Rubinstein?
- Ehh…well… there are a few Rubinstein’s. Which one do you mean?
- Oy sweetie! You know the pianist!
- Ok?! So you are reading a book about the pianist and it reminds you of me?! I don’t even play the piano.
- Noo! It’s not about him! It’s a cookbook!
- Ok?!? And the cookbook reminds you of me?
- Nooo!! Sweetie! It’s written by Rubinstein’s wife…
- Ok?! So you are reading a cookbook written by Rubinstein’s wife that reminds you of me?
- No! Well you know Rubenstein, he is a pianist!
- Yes! But I thought we were talking about cooking?
- Yes, but the cookbook is written by his wife!
- Ok, I’ve got that now. But why does it remind you of me?
- Rubenstein is Jewish by the way.
- Yes? So?
- Well, he had a lot of mistresses, even though he was married.
- Mhm? So where do I get into this picture?
- Well, I was thinking of your boyfriend…
- Hmm…So what are you trying to say? That just because I have a Jewish boyfriend he will have a lot of mistresses?
- NOOOO! No! You know I love Jewish people!
- Ok. So you are saying that just because my boyfriend is a musician he will have a lot of mistresses?
- No! No!
- But I don’t understand mummy?! Are you saying that just because my boyfriend is from Israel AND a musician he will have a lot of mistresses?
- No no no! I was just reminded of you when I read about Rubinstein because he married his first big love and she was much older than him, as you are older than your boyfriend.
- Ok! So you think that just because I am older than my boyfriend he will have a lot of mistresses?
- No no! You don’t understand me!
- No I don’t.
- Well, Rubinstein was married for over 40 years and then he left his first wife at the age of 90 for a much younger woman.
- Ok, but they were married for more than 40 years?
- Yes.
- Were they happily married for 40 years?
- I don’t know.
- But anyway, why did this remind you of me?
- Well, they are bohemians both of them your boyfriend and him…
- Ok? And?
- Well I don’t want you to be unhappy…
- But mummy if I have 40 happy years with one love then I would be pretty pleased.
- Yes but…maybe you can find someone who is not a bohemian, like a doctor or a lawyer or someone…
- So, what are you telling me? That doctors and lawyers do not have mistresses?
- No, but at least you will have money…

"Basket cases"

Today Easter Saturday we blessed our eggs in church which is a Polish Catholic tradition. My sweet mother becomes very religious twice a year: Christmas and Easter. In between these two holidays, life is religiously uneventful and even contradictory to the teachings of her Christ.
This day my sister and I have to accompany her to get blessed along with a basket full of eggs. The ceremony only takes about 10 min. and it is cute to see, young, old, men, women and children, even super trendy teenagers carrying little decorated baskets full of food - every person trying to outdo their friends and neighbours in design, quality and colour. The priest says a few words and then splashes holy water on the baskets, people and “basket cases”.

My cute little mother wants to start a blog. A blog to God (remember she is religious today).

I can well imagine her posts:

“Dear God, thank you for giving me two such wonderful, beautiful and talented daughters. They are truely amazing; I only wish that they would be happier, maybe if they became doctors or lawyers? Or if they found a nice rich husband? Not an artistic bohemian man – even though they too have their positive sides, sexually, I mean – no what I think would be good for them would be a “nerd”, a quiet man who would do anything for them… Please God, help my daughters fulfill my wishes of finding the perfect man!”