Six feet above


Another creativity hangover. I’m exhausted and need some rest. I’m so into Six Feet Under right now. It’s one of my favorite TV series to revisit. The theme of Death goes perfectly in line with the recent contemplation about my own mortality. The timing of this obscure theme is not too odd – since the only view from the windows of my apartment is of the old cemetery across the street.

When I think about my existence  – my own life, I feel deeply moved. I am grateful for the love I have in my life. For the people who appreciate my inner worlds and want to be part of them. I have lost many things in my life, loss has been haunting me since I moved out from home as a teenager. But in each and every loss, I have found something really important in its void. Underneath the surface. I’m not saying I am happy it happened, but I wouldn’t be who I am today if it wasn’t for the things I found when something was taken from me. The more I’ve been mentally and emotionally stripped away by other people, the more naked and real I have become to myself. And that is priceless. The more they took from me, the more I found within myself. It’s not important what they took – it’s all about what I was able to achieve in spite of their greed and selfishness. Nobody can ever take THAT away from me.

It’s ironic – when I first met the abusive man I was only 18 and wrote this little poem to him: “Out of the sweetness of our innocence, we will rise and find our true selves.” – he stole my sense of innocence and because of that I have been forced to make a long and painful journey to the person I am today. Above and beyond all the crap he put me through. I am not buried underneath the traumas anymore. I have climbed at least six feet above it – where the view is absolutely spectacular.

So, I am grateful for how my life turned out. Even though it’s been stained with so much pain and grief. But I use the stains in my art – they are important to my artistic expression. The day when they’ll finally bury me six feet under, those stains will still hang on other people’s walls and be cherished and loved – so in a way it all worked out fine.

Slowly healing


I wish everyone would be able to feel what I’m feeling right now. It’s something quite unique and spectacular. The vulnerable softness of scar tissue in my heart. The endless meadows of silence in my mind that used to be broken in so many places where chaos and fear were leaking out with every thought.

I am slowly healing. The wounds inside are fading and the entangled emotions are sorted out and accepted. I feel proud of myself to be here – in a place where I am able to feel stronger and more in control. I’ve been working so hard to get here. I feel lucky to have met a man who loves me for me, not for who I could be to him or who I should be if I only was a little more, or less than I already am. A man who doesn’t punish me for being a strong woman, for expressing my own wants and needs. I feel lucky to have met a man who doesn’t humiliate or belittle me to feel stronger, better and more in control. It shouldn’t be a privilege to experience this kind of equality and friendship in a relationship, it should be the foundation for all types of relationships, not only the romantic ones.