The trainaccident.

Like usual after work, I take the train home. Yesterday I was happy to be off a bit earlier since I didn’t feel so great, and I took the train home. Yet this trainride, which usually takes 20 minutes, took 2,5 hours almost.

I was in a train that hit a person. The person did not survive. I don’t know if it was suicide or an accident, but I know the railwaycrossing is a ‘closed’ one; with those bars. And they were down.

Suddenly the train started to brake – but against these things I guess you can’t stop in time. There was a hit, and a lot of other sounds. It was obvious we hit something; and
I saw things flying from under the train. Things like a black small wheel, a brown big thing which looked like some kind of pillow, lots of stones (from the railwaytrack), other iron bars and some more little parts (which were maybe parts of a human body- I’m not sure it went all so fast).

The train stopped. Moments of silence. The traindriver giving the message, with a trembled voice: we just hit a person. We’re going to see if we can give first aid.

But first aid with a hit like that, I guess the chance of survival isn’t much. All I could think of is that whoever was under the train, had no chance of survival. And that I later learned, was the truth.

After standing on the railway in the middle of nowhere for a long time, with a lot of firemen, police and other people who ‘clean it up’, we were escorted out of the train to a bus that came to pick us up. We had to walk along the track into the direction of the actual hit. I didn’t want to look- I didn’t want to see anything more than I already saw. I guess I was afraid to see things, I mean, it was still a real person, and his or her life just ended in one or two seconds, and I was a witness of that. I heard, I felt, and I know. That’s such a strange thing to know. Boom, a life away in a flash. Just gone, poof, just like that.

I feel sorry. Sorry for that person. Sorry for the relatives, friends, beloved ones. Sorry for the traindriver, who saw way more then I did. Sorry for the people who saw it.

It’s maybe cruel to say, but I did wonder before how it’s like when things like this happen. I never really wanted to found out, these are not the things you would like to witness.But now I know anyway. The way it goes, the sounds, the feelings. The sensations. I had cold chills on my back while walking to the bus.

I stayed home from work today, I called in sick. I just said I couldn’t work, that I was sick.

It’s true that I was sick yesterday evening and during the night, now I’m not really sick sick and I slept, the whole thing didn’t keep me from sleeping. I don’t seem to feel particularly bad or something. But I was just not capable of going to work this morning.

Now I feel guilty I stayed at home. I’m able to work – but, also knowing that I would have a difficult day and I might have come back sick today if I would have gone.
Now I took care of myself right before getting real sick; but it makes me feel guilty. And I know how that doesn’t make sense. I feel weak, like I’m a person with a weak immune system, with lower energy levels, who calls in sick too quickly. In this world, it doesn’t seem to be about wellbeing. Yet I don’t really get why I know I should not feel guilty, I still do.

I seem to always have to be able to operate. And a moment like the train accident just makes me think: is it really worth it? Is it so bad to have to stop for a moment?

Sometimes the world stops for someone, and yet it just continues like nothing happens around. I don’t get where my head goes, and maybe the story doesn’t make sense.

 

My fortune is freedom

No one yelling, no one trying to make the most profits without being honest,
No pushing and screaming, no mean words,
No rushing and the fight to always be the best and on top.
No rat race, no fighting about a place, or a right to exist,
No war just to have your own little space, warmth, food, and such.

I wish it wasn’t this way, but it seems to get just more and more,
So I run away sometimes, to a place where those things don’t want to be.

There is just silence, the stories of nature and the rain.
The sun and the moon and the stars
Animals, plants, easy and rough terrain.

There, I find peace in myself, and peace with the world.
It’s still not easy, but I won’t regret
You see, that is my world that is hidden from the rest,
The one that keeps me sane.

I just wish, that that was the world I would live in

Every single day.

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Something I don’t like to talk about

As the title says, I’m going to write about something I don’t like to talk – or write – about.

I don’t know exactly why, but somehow this subject is a bit sensitive for me.

When I was born, I was born as a woman. I’m still a woman. I’m okay with being a woman. Maybe, or very likely, I’m not the stereotype or standard version, but that doesn’t make me something else. Fine so far.

And, just to be clear about how I feel: I don’t feel the need or desire to be a man or something else. I’m fine with the way things are. I don’t feel the need or desire to have a different body. Yes, I have a relationship with another woman, but I don’t see myself as a lesbian or homosexual. I just see mutual love, respect, understanding of the soul. I don’t see relationships as in physical desire, I don’t even particularly like sex, that’s another ‘issue’ but more about that later. I always try to understand how this works for others, because if you believe the media and some common ‘street’ talk, the first thing people do is look and they feel attraction by the physical, often. Not always, but this is what it seems to me , what is the most common way it happens. Correct me if I’m wrong.

Somehow I also notice that most people feel the need to classify man or woman, or how one should look like. I guess you could probably call me more like the androgyne type. I’m none of both and yet both. I have female things in my body and male things in my body – okay everyone has, one more than the other. It doesn’t really matter, and yet it does. This is so full of contrasts.

So. I have more a male body shape, broad shoulders, big and strong, nothing curvy, fluent or however you call those shapes. And (eeks) I have to pull out some hair from my chin and belly, dark black thick hairs. They always come back. My shoe size is too big to buy woman shoes and the shape of my body doesn’t fit in the clothes they make for women. Women’s jeans are halfway my backside so you see half of the underpants, and shirts are always too short that it looks like you wear a shirt bikinistyle. As well, in blouses, shirts, sweaters and so every, my shoulders never fit in. That’s why I often end up buying men’s clothes or unisex or sports gear. I don’t like high heals and I don’t like dresses, so I don’t feel the need to fit in them or buy them. Even if I wanted to – it would not be possible with my body shape.

But those things, can make you a target. Not that I ever really was, but I do notice it in slightly hidden things. Somehow people do not dare to say it to me, but I bet they think so much more. Or maybe talk behind my back – I guess I will never really know. I remember not long ago, when at work there was a meeting about the future at work, and we had to work in groups with people. You had to describe the people in your group based on a little story you told (a story about something that you carry with you). I talked about my pocketknife, that I carry it to cut fruits at work, but that it’s also important gear in outdoor world.I had it for everything but agressive meanings: for me it’s not a weapon at all. It could, but that’s not how I see it. All of the people described me with things as the eager to know or to learn, being prepared.  One guy, who I don’t know so well, described me as ‘boyish’. That’s all that came to his mind. I saw everyone looking at me from the corners of my eye. I didn’t really know what to say or how to react. All I did was look at him and say: if that is what you think about me, then that is what you think. And so the day went on. But I still felt uncomfortable and it made me think. Yes, I wear men’s clothes, I don’t paint my nails and don’t wear make-up and such, but because I’m more neutral, does that make me boyish?

I admit that I am very happy with internetshopping. I don’t like to go in a store and get clothes in the men’s department. It makes me feel ashamed. You get weird faces. Questions.

And still the answer is: No, I don’t want to be a man, I’m a woman. (Just because it has to have a name, but yeah, I prefer to just call myself a human being).

Why do we seperate men and women clothes? Can’t we just wear what fits good and what we like? Why do there have to be different devided sections in stores, or words that label something as ‘men’ or female’?

I never understood why there is this ‘difference’ in sexes. Like why it should matter if someone is a man or a woman, or whatever in between or out. I don’t really see the ‘difference’ between men and women. Everyone is a person to me. I see people in persons. Yeah, of course, I classify too – male/female/something else. But I don’t understand this load of the word, to classify, or to……I’m sorry, I can’t really express myself well here (maybe that’s my lack of English). I just hope you get what I mean to say here.

I don’t even understand why there is a seperate toilet for men and women. I mean come on, in the end what comes out is the same. Then there are these stories about that its dangerous to put them together, because of sexual harrassment and such. But is this really, really happening when you have unisex toilets? Bad people are in every section of the human race. Isn’t this something we try to keep up with media images and stuff like that? Somehow I can’t see or understand this, because I see us all of the same kind. So if you have a different opinion about it, please feel free to share – even if I don’t agree, I’m interested to hear yours about this.Isn’t it just something we tend to keep alive because we are afraid or whatever? I really don’t get it.

And with that other related stuff; sex. A lot of advertisements and things are so focussed on looking beautiful (as in sexy) or sex minded. If you have to believe media and advertisements and series, a lot of guys are out for sex. Are men really that sex-minded? Is it really that all they think about, and that is what drives their lives? Is that why they are ‘dangerous’ and we have to seperate men and women? This part is so difficult to understand for me because I don’t see or feel things this way.

So, back to something that is not the point, I am a human being.
I’m born as a woman, and somehow I always struggle with myself and my appearance. I’m not particularly looking good, female, or sexy, or something else. I’m just me, I guess. I don’t know how to describe myself.

I am probably difficult in relationships – I had very less. And I never cared much about the physical thing, about sex. I could easily live without it. I care more about love in a different way. It’s not that I’m cold, sometimes I like to hug, and cuddle. But I can’t see why sex is so important in a relationship, simply because I don’t feel it. This is a point that I’m afraid makes me maybe weird or what frustrates my partner. I’m in a relationship now , but somehow I feel like I miss something and I can’t give my love what she might need.I know sex is important for her. And that’s something I can rarely ‘give’. I don’t even know if I could call myself asexual. Because I had sex, so I’m not sure if that counts. I just try to understand the world around me in these things, but I can’t really get hold of it.

Maybe it should not matter, but yet, somehow it bothers me. And it bothers me that I can’t exactly express myself the way I want, but I hope you get the meaning of the post. I guess it goes from one thing to another, and it’s not really coherent, but it’s related for me.

With saying that, I appreciate you took the time to read all of this.

Feeling guilty

I had to call in sick again, because I don’t feel well. I guess I went back to work too quickly, going immediatly back when I started to feel better, but not well yet.

I’m not sick sick, like in superbad sick, but I’m not well enough either to work. After a few hours I get a nasty headache and I don’t feel good, with the result of nothing coming out of me anymore. Somehow I need to sleep or rest after a few hours.

I can’t really help it, but  I feel guilty when I call in sick. I know it doesn’t make sense, because everyone (or most) are sick from time to time. But still, this feeling I can’t get rid of. It also doesnt help that these employer services call you with questions like ‘when do you expect to get to work again’ and immediatly bombing you with the procedures.

Seriously, sometimes people are just sick, they dont know when it’s going to be better and what is exactly is, but can you just be sick without being bombed by these procedures? What is that good for? It makes me feel more pushed, almost stressed and not allowed to be sick. Why the heck have we invented this, and why ?

If I think about it, and look around me, all that seems to matter is money and efficiency. That just makes my head spin. Where is life, the wellbeing, the person, the helping each other and have a nice life and basic things you need that everyone should have?

Instead, the world doesn’t work like that. And I don’t get it. Why? Why did it become this way? I can’t stand the idea of people working in poor circumstances, never being able to just live a bit comfortable and send their kids to school just because some multinational wants to make the most profit by buying their stuff cheap and a lot of people only seem to care about the price of something, expressed in the money they pay for it.

The pressure that some work places put on their people. The people who earn tons and have three houses. What the heck? The time employees get to sew a skirt, or to handle a phonecall, or to bake a bread. Seriously? Timed from second to second. Limited time for personal care (hey, if you have to pee, you have to pee right?). Gosh. The more I think about it, the more sick I get. What the heck is this world?

And the worst thing is that I’m being part of it too. I have cheap things too, or clothes or other products that are made by people in bad circumstances. I try to take care of this and buy fair trade or ecological stuff and such, but is that really what it says? And not everything I have is like that. So I’m guilty as hell too.

On top of that, I feel the pressure of social media, smartphones and stuff, being available all the time, and people expect you to reply in a minute. Seriously, where does this go? I manage so far without a smartphone and without too much social media, but still, I feel this kind of pressure. And the pressure of paying bills, that I don’t know why, but when I had a lower salary seemed to be really less. Now I earn more than the minimum wage, bills seem to find my way, taxes for this, taxes for that, I don’t know where they all come from, but all these insurances and taxes and all other kind of things you’re obligued to pay……..

 

breathe. Just breathe. That is all I should do now.

Empty floors

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After a day and after the rain
Because you didn’t see the sun
You open the door because it was locked
And you will see that the curtains are wide open

Light is falling on the floor
Structures, just being there in silence
and in fact the only presence in your life

You did not pay for them. They did not pay for you.
You did not ask for them. They did not ask for you.

And day after day
Every day the same, but in different perspectives
You open this door
One day in the dark
One day in the light

Nothing changes,
Yet everything changes.
Just because of that.

Existing but not living.
Living, but not existing.

 

I’m trying, but it’s a struggle

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I try to walk. But the walk is not easy.I try to keep moving. But it’s hard.

After I came back from Sweden, from being cut off from the world mostly, I had some trouble to step back in society, in the other life, or however you want to call it.

The contrast was just, I don’t know, overwhelming, and everything seemed too fast, too much pressure, too stressed, to pushy.

The world, and society, really rush and have this enormous pressure and speed. It’s unbelievable how much this seems to has its toll on me. I don’t know if I’m just weak as a human being, but I really find it difficult to keep up with life, with society, with work, with all the things everyone seems to expect from you. Working eight hours a day is the standard but I have a hard time hanging on to that. It’s a bit too much, somehow. I just barely hang on to these eight hours.

As for that, I am fighting too against this depression around the corner – will they ever leave? Or is it melted in my soul?

I am having trouble too since I live on my own again (well, with my love) to find my own pace, to find my own things. I just get lost mostly. I feel lost in the city, lost in life, I don’t seem to have a direction. I just float.

Like walking around but being invisible to everyone.
Walking around silently in noise, and not being able to escape it.

Living in my own place gives peace but it has traps too – there is nothing to force or push me, and I tend to stay in and become inactive – i know this and I try to resist this, to keep moving and going outside, but seriously, this is difficult.

I still keep going to Jiu Jitsu – that seems to go well lately, but next to that my days are pretty empty. I can’t find my things to do. I wish I felt something, some connection to things that I seem to like. But I don’t feel it. It’s maybe numb again, that nothing matters (while it matters a lot).

I don’t know how I feel, I just float. I’m not happy, I’m not unhappy, I am numb. And I find it hard to deal with life, to deal with work. I feel like I just want to sleep and lie on the couch and not move. I wish I could really turn myself off for a while, just like a computer you shut off.

I just wish I could feel or knew a direction where I want to go, or where I wish to be, where I can work towards to. But yet everything is numb and empty. And everything feels meaningless.

And I don’t know what’s worse, feeling awful from depression or feeling empty and numb.

All I know is that it doesn’t feel nice.

 

 

I lost my heart because I found it.

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At the moment I made this photo, my heart was not there. I stood on the beach and cried.
I cried of being afraid, off all these miserable feelings, and because of missing my love.

My love just came to live with me. And I left soon after. Because I went to Sweden, where I went on a survival training.

I have a lot of trouble to ‘get back into the normal life’ again now. I can’t find my words, but I’m full of feelings and thoughts: I just can not express them.

But all I can say is: I love that life. I love survival. I know I can manage. I know I can do it. Even if my  mind thinks I can’t. I can.

I lost my heart, just because I found it.