Tag: peace

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Freak by Surf Curse, give it a listen

I’m listening to Freak by Surf Curse, and maybe because I see myself as a freak, or maybe because I love this 80s guitar beat,  but I’m feeling this moment, and this song, and I want to share it with you.

I’m feeling like drinking coffee, because my mind associates peace and writing with black coffee, but it’s 11:02pm on a Sunday, and I just had shawarma, and I don’t think coffee right now would be the wisest choice.

But then again, when did I ever choose to be wise?

I’m still not making coffee. 

And not because I’m being wise, but because I’m too lazy to get out of bed. See, I would never disappoint you in thinking I am something I’m not. I’ll always be this way, unwise and sweet, obsessive and annoying, uncertain and insecure. Yet, you’re here, reading the insanity of my brain, thinking: “why the hell am I here?” Or maybe just trying to understand me, but you won’t, and not because I’m so mysterious, but because I don’t understand me either, so all the questions in your head, are also in my head, and I don’t really know how to answer them.

Last time I was writing, I logged into my blog to post what I wrote, and I heard my mum gasp loudly to the news of my grandma dying. I haven’t posted what I wrote yet, maybe I will after posting this. And I will eventually write about my grandma, because I need her alive here, at least, because she deserves to stay alive in every memory. But not now. Not tonight.

I wanted to write about something different. I wanted to talk about the serenity I lived today, around 2:54am.

The way my skin felt soft on my bedsheets, the 1913 song I had on repeat for an hour, the ancient sound in the buzz of the moments, the way I felt, like I could die that minute and it would be the most serene death anyone could wish for. I was ready for anything, my mind for once not anxious, my sadness toned down, my heart throbbing in normal paces, my obsessiveness set loose, my eyes open and close weightlessly, my lips smiling on their own, feeling so warm and cold at the same time, appreciating beauty, allure, as it really is. 

I was ready. And this serenity possessed my Sunday. I chose to stay in bed all day; I slept then ate, then slept some more. Then I said hi to a friend for 5 minutes in his car, then went up to my bed again, and slept some more, then woke up and ordered coffee, and sulked in my bed. And throughout, I did not feel any responsibility, nothing of the brunt I carry, I felt weightless. Do you know what I mean? Have you ever felt it? Feeling weightless, like a balloon, like if you close yours eyes for just a few seconds you might as well fly? 

I smiled at myself, for no reason at all, a couple of times. I listened to music and I let it consume me. I did not stress, panic, despair. I was okay. 

I’ll try to sleep now, even though I doubt I will, due to the uncountable naps of today, but I need to sleep so I have a less cranky Monday mornings than usual, and you all know my Mondays. I will continue watching this episode of Brooklyn 99-season 8 is on Netflix now!-and then attempt to sleep. 

Bonne nuit les petits. Talk soon x

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Let’s go away

To be sucked into a turmoil, unable to drift away, indulged in uncanny in denial and a lust for an escape, a swim in the middle of nowhere, fear of the heavily presence, and the inability to feel within the premises of internal agony and willing to live.

June’s almost over, and I haven’t written anything here. Maybe writing would bring me back, or maybe it’s a push, so I don’t feel like I’m not committing, like leaving in the middle, and then blaming myself for always taking the easy way out.

I’m not depressed; this is a fact. I am not even sad, generally speaking. I have my sad moments, and I am reigniting the shy kid involuntarily; even my sly social skills of not socializing at all are resurfacing, but I am doing okay.

It’s just I feel trapped, overwhelmingly more than usual. Granted, I’ve always felt trapped, and it’s part of my lavishing existential crisis, but it’s been severe lately. I finally understand people’s obsession with oceans; I’ve been craving the sea tremendously.

I finally understand the peace and freedom of diving into the middle of the sea and feeling like you own your space, like you own your liberation, like you can be nowhere, away, very far from your premonition and unbearable obsessions, leaving your heavily sedated baggage of unnecessary responsibilities and self-expectations on the shore.

Yet, no matter how much you swim deep, you can still look back and see the shore; it’s where you will land after you leave for a while. At sea, you sit stretched between the landing hole of maturity and life and the nothingness, and you rest assured that even though you can reach as far as you want into the nothing, there is still a land to go back to. That’s security; that’s my safety.

I am a child of trauma. No matter how much I fight it, no matter how much I act normal and try to blend in, I am a person who still suffers greatly from unresolved trauma. I see two therapists now; my usual therapy, whom I still love as much, and a trauma specialist that I hope can help me tackle the one trauma I want to overcome. I know it’s not healthy to see two doctors, and I don’t plan on juggling this for long; I’m just getting my feet wet and seeing if it’ll do me any good.

The trauma, my unresolved anger, the stress, it’s all getting pretty serious because it is affecting my physical health and not just taking a toll on my mental health. I’ve been sick for a while, but I usually dismiss anything that has to do with my physical health.

Still, two months of unbearable nausea that does not go away, significant weight loss, body aches, back pain, and a high fever on Sunday made me wonder. Nour, you may need to slow down and see what all the fuss is about.

I am a child of trauma, and my brain is wired to live on survival mode and internal search for safety, and I am still roaming deep. I have figured this out through my work with children from traumatic backgrounds; the resemblance in behavior and actions were intolerable, I realized that I have barely healed.

I’ve had great moments in the past month, some may be one of the best memories I have, and I remain grateful. Right now, I am picturing a sunset by the seashore, and I am listening to an idyllic song; I am in a state of peace. Maybe soon I can share a little of what has been going on with me lately, maybe soon I can return home.

For now, I need my sea time.