Cuts and bruises

Publicerad 2016-09-26 18:06:00 i Livet,

DSC_6271 (kopia)
 
I cut my hand as I was doing the washing up a couple of weeks ago. I was washing a wineglass left from the night before, busy thinking about something else. Maybe exes. Maybe other stuff. Can't actually remember. Anyways, I was thinking about something rather unpleasant and feeling angry and stressed and then all of a sudden the glass just broke. I felt a stinging sensation and looked down. Saw the broken glass, and the cut in my hand. 
 
I put the glass to the side and then stood a few seconds and did nothing but stare at my hand. Saw the wound go from chocked and still to bloody and red. Felt a surge of adrenaline. Started shaking a bit. And didn't know what to do. So I continued doing the washing up. It took me a minute or two to calm down and get back into my senses. Realised that doing the washing up whilst you're bleeding isn't really a good idea. And by then I was bleeding quite a lot. So I stopped doing the washing up. Fetched some towels. Sat down. 
 
DSC_6381 (kopia)
 
It was just such a shock. I was so caught up in other thoughts, busy with my life, that I didn't even think that I might hurt myself doing what I was doing. That maybe you should hold certain things a bit more delicately, and be more aware of how they might hurt when they break. But I didn't. I just felt it breaking. Felt my hands slip. Felt the pain burn. I've later come to think about how poetic it was. How things can break when you don't think too much about what and how you're holding it. How it ends up hurting you without you even noticing it was breaking in the first place. And once it's broken, you have no other option but just to deal with the pain and wait for it to heal. Trust yourself that it's not going to bleed forever.
 
It's ok now though, I've had enough plasters on it to last a whole company and made sure to keep it clean. And it's healing. I'm usually one of those people that get wounds and scars that stay forever. But for some reason this one is healing quite well. And I suppose clean cuts do heal, even though they bled a lot at first, and they come as a shock and they look awful. I just have to make sure to leave it be, to give it time to heal. It's hard, but it's worth it, because even though they hurt, they do, eventually, heal.
 

In a week I

Publicerad 2016-09-24 11:29:00 i Livet,

 
 
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First week of university is over, and I'm getting more and more settled into all the new ways. I'm enjoying pouring my heart and soul into new and exciting courses and people and events, whilst trying to make sure that I take care of myself and don't take on more than I can handle. I'm still on a slippery slope on my way back from everything that's gone on, and it's so easy to think I'm ok and forget that I'm really not entirely. Not yet, at least. But I'm not complaining, not at all. I'm so enjoying uni life, seeing and being with people that excite and engage me, and mostly just feeling good. Not just ok. But good.
 
This week's moment: After my workout yesterday I was walking through Brighton all dolled up on endorfins, and decided to take the route through the Pavillion gardens. The sun was setting, the air was crisp, the buskers were playing their music and the view was just... Well you can see it all above. It's fair to say I fell in love with my city all over again. 
 
 
 
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This week's quote: Last night I called Oscar at 0.30 in the morning. We don't talk that often, but when we do we don't just chat, but really talk. About what we're going through and how we can help each other and how fucking scary and unfair and amazing and brilliant life is. And I told him about everything that's gone on. How much shit I have to go through and deal with to be ok again. And he said; 'I'm so sorry about all this, Frida. On behalf of all men, I'm sorry.'. And when I told him that he doesn't have to be sorry, I mean, it's not his fault, he replied; 'It's not, but someone should be sorry.'.
 
This week's highpoint: I was asked as Women's Officer to come to the Role Models Project - uni students go to local schools to talk about issues related to growing up that schools don't teach you - on campus to facilitate a workshop on sexism and gendered stereotypes that we wish we'd known about when we were growing up. It just left me feeling so good about myself, leading a talk on a subject I know so well, and talking and discussing it with amazingly interesting and enganged people. I also got to wear my Women's Officer lanyard. God I love that lanyard.
 
 
 
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This week's food: Is probably yet to come. I'm going out with Phil and Laura on Sunday for a traditional Sunday Roast, right before Laura and I go to try out fencing. Just because why not.
 
This week's lowpoint: When I was standing outside coop crying because I couldn't find any pesto. Well, there was more to it, of course it was. But at that point the lack of pesto just felt like the end of the world. Until Ross looked me in the eye and said 'Frida, you're an independent woman. You don't need coop. We can go to Sainsbury's instead.'. And so we did. And then I went home and had pesto pasta. 
 
This week's music: I'm listening to a lot of music right now, to calm down or pump myself up or just to pass time, and this week's song is gonna have to be Fighter with Christina Aguilera. When it shuffled up on my playlist the other day it sent chills down my spine. Am gonna try to incorporate some more of that kind of aggressive and unforgiveable power in my life. 
  
 
 
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A weekend to share

Publicerad 2016-09-18 21:26:56 i Livet,

 
 
Weekend with mum
 
 
Weekend with mum
 
Weekend with mum
 
Weekend with mum
 
 
 
Mum came to visit me here in Brighton this weekend. I got to show her my room, and show her that I'm actually doing ok again. We went to London, walked around Brighton, ate oysters, drank tea, watched films, woke up early and had a lot of prosecco. We also spent a lot of time just talking. About all those things that hurt, and all the things that don't. Tried to figure out what's happened, what is, and what to do. What not to do. Troubles are so much easier to carry when shared. And I'm so glad I can share so much with her. Sorrows and heartbreaks and afternoon teas and weekends alike.
 
 
 

The Twelfth

Publicerad 2016-09-12 19:18:00 i Livet,

I thought today would hurt more than it does. I thought I would think about you more than I am. 
 
But then again, I also once thought we'd still be together today. 
 
I suppose I was wrong. 
 
And I suppose that's ok. 
 

Fairy lights

Publicerad 2016-09-10 08:34:17 i Livet,

Turns out it's a lot less easy to be poetic when writing about feeling ok. Over the past few weeks text after text of heartbreak has fallen out of me, demanded to be written, read, felt. Some of them I've let you read. Most of them are just for me. 
 
But then I moved into my room. Made my own bed. Put up my fairy lights and built some shelves and found a place for my guitar. And with every book I put up on my shelf the brokenness that I've been carrying for so long just broke away. One piece after the other. 
 
It's hard writing poetically about feeling ok. But to be honest, I'd rather feel ok than be poetic anyway. I've had enough of feeling thinking being shit. And spending every waken second trying to ignore it. 
 
I can sleep in until 8 now. I can sit still for hours and not fall apart. I can make myself dinner and eat it. All the things I've dreamt of have come true. I have my home, I have my friends, I have myself. I don't have you, but that's ok. I'm ok without you. 
 
The texts that used to stream out of me like a flood demanding to be released have stilled. The last notes on my phone aren't poetic or emotional, but shopping lists for B&Q for stuff needed for my room. All that brokenness that consumed my entire being is giving in, leaving some much longed for space for me. A less poetic, but oh so much happier, me. 
 
 

Home

Publicerad 2016-09-06 10:02:00 i Livet,

Today is my last day of being homeless. Tomorrow, I get to move into my own house. I get to have a bed on my own. After six hellish months of homelessness, hopelessness and heartbreak, I finally have my own home again. After six hellish months, I can finally make my own bed.

To be honest, I genuinely can't believe I managed to get through all of this. But I did. And here I am. Single. Strong. Sad. And longing home. Not for that home I thought I had with you. That home you took away from me. But a home which is mine. Just mine.

Over the past year I've felt like everything has been taken away from me. Over and over again, I hit rock bottom. And at times I couldn't see how I would be able to get through it. But I did. First, with your help. And then with everyone else's. And looking back I can't believe how I managed to but I did. I did it.

I've fallen so many times this year. But now, I stand on my own. I stand with my own. Everything that was taken I've claimed back. With the help of my friends and family and myself I've claimed it all back. And I claimed it all back for myself. So that this time no one will be able to take it away.

This home, this me, this life, this happiness, sadness, hopelessness and optimism, it's all me. It's all mine. And I can't wait to live it. I can't wait to go home. 
 

Awake at 4 am

Publicerad 2016-09-05 05:14:00 i Livet,

I am telling people that I'm starting to do ok again. Because I am. That brokenness you left with me is fading, slowly eroding. I'm up at normal times and eating normal amounts and breathing normally again. And sometimes, no actually quite often, I laugh.

But then again, I'm also sometimes not ok. I'm also sometimes still awake at 4am unable to sleep. Looking out at the summer night sky and listening to music and trying to not think about you. Even though all I want to do is think about you.

But just because I sometimes still can't sleep doesn't mean that I am not ok. Because I am ok. I'm dealing with it, and every day, every night, the dealing gets easier. I'm ok. But I'm also sometimes awake at 4am thinking about you.