The land shark

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An overcast morning. Grey shadows stretched out across the floor. My inside gravitating towards the ocean. A love story unfolding beyond the depth of the distance. Standing still, yet moving forward. Always.

J calls me a ‘land shark’ because just like a shark, I need to be in constant movement forward or I would probably die. But I do it on land. And the waves are happening inside my mind and heart – a soothing stream of fantasies and feelings, going back and forth, slowly shaping my artistic expressions.

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When I am standing still without any sign of movement at all, I suffocate and wither from within. I just can’t get too comfortable; I need to swim in the deep waters of the unknown instead of the familiarity of the bowl. Yet, the unknown terrifies me. The engines of my creativity is without a doubt both my desire and my fear. It’s all very primal. Sexual energy mixed with horror. Light and dark. Good and bad. Life and Death. Fantasy and reality. Fertility and mortality. Extremes. In juxtapositions. Always having fun together. Always coming together as one single energy. In the experience of a human life.

I am starting to detach myself from my older collections or artworks. They are me, but more like they were me. I have so much more clarity now. I am more present. I am more honest. Raw. Yet delicate in the details I choose to explore. Intricate details. Like symbols. Everything is charged with my personal mythology. Explosive. I am so much more confident in the storytelling. I am choreographing the colors instead of letting the spontaneous choices rule the painting process. I am experiencing more balance in the composition, the color palette and the expression this time. It is really exciting.

I will continue to swim on land later today, with my paintbrushes and the water that is like the blood in my paintings – the water that is the distance between me and the man I love.

I can hear the demons whispering

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Something is happening inside me. I can feel new life running through my veins. Fresh blood. An intoxicating rush of red rivers underneath the surface. The essence of my life. Red. Glowing. Beating. Like it should be.

The sensuality of spring is inspiring. The newness of time, the texture of growth, the birth of a season – of life itself. A thin veil of protection, then exposed and raw in its delicacy. True vulnerability is the source of any greatness. I close my eyes but my world stays intact – there’s no darkness behind the light. Not even a shadow.

I can sense new artworks being born inside my mind like soft dreams but with such clarity that I immediately surrender to it’s pull. I hear my demons whispering inside. I am about to give birth to new life – just like momma spring. I can feel it. They want out of me. And they will take little pieces of pain with them – pain that will never return to my inner world.

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The monthly invasion of excruciatingly intense hormones and anxiety has once again interrupted my process of self therapy. I feel all messed up – over emotional and numb at the same time. But in this break I am able to reflect on what I’m going through and to acknowledge the hard work I’m doing, which I’m usually taking for granted.

Spring is somehow leaking through the chilly winds outside my window. It’s still cold out but I can feel a change coming on. I feel just as restless as spring to unfold and blossom with everything I am.

Soon.

I am thinking about how I found love while looking for it in other places. I’m still so used to destructive relationships that I am having a hard time trusting all the wonderfulness of this love story. I’m learning how to accept love and to trust another person. It is almost as difficult as the process of my self-empowerment. Or perhaps it’s part of it. I feel extremely emotional as soon as I am thinking about him. We are quite different but we share many qualities, especially how we always filter life through our thoughts and hearts and allow details to be as significant as the whole. There is a sense of sensuality in that. We both experienced an interruption of innocence somewhere early in life, and we are slowly repairing it together in each other and in ourselves. We are like a scaffolding to each other’s heart, creating a support system so we can heal and grow. Like the crutches holding the characters together in Dali’s paintings.

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It is a beautiful love. Not harsh or indifferent like the ones in my past. It’s like we are growing up together, although we are already adults. I wonder what that will do to the passive Lolitas in my art.

Today, I will simply let the anxious hormones pass through me as if am a train station. All the emotions are warped and colored with high sensitivity and conflicting meanings. Tomorrow I hope I’ll wake up to be more in control of my inner activities.

Staring into the eyes of life

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Georges de La Tour, La Madeleine à la veilleuse,  1640 – 1645

I am trying to focus on my art again, but I am constantly being interrupted by this overwhelming feeling of being really present in myself – and how that feeling is weaving itself in every moment, and ironically I’m suddenly not sure if I am present in the moment or just within myself and detached from the world outside my own mind. But everything feels different now. I used to be withdrawn because I lived inside my head – now I am living with it as a great companion trying to figure out how to relate to the world. I am centered, but not in the state of just being – I am still layers away from connecting to the real divinity inside myself. The place where fear doesn’t exist – a place where I am accepting everything about myself, the situations I am going through and people, without any judgments or desire to control any of it. I’ve learned that being in control is to accept not having any control at all – and to embrace that notion instead of being intimidated by it.

For the first time in my life I am also exploring how I feel about my own mortality. I used to live so close to the  darkness that I thought Death was just another word for Life. But now I live in a perfect greyscale – and for the first time I am actually scared to die and to lose the people I love. It was so much easier to live in the dark where loss was an everyday experience in some way or another. I lost my dignity so many times a day, my self respect, my value as a human being, I lost my creativity, I lost faith in myself as an artist and I lost myself over and over again. There is nothing more painful in this life than self abandonment because every external abandonment becomes unbearable – then you don’t have anything, not even yourself. I am grateful for having rescued myself – from myself.

I am going through an overwhelming process of healing and being in love with another soul that I connect with in every way possible. I am filled with warm clouds – and so much hope.

Slowly healing

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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.

2015 – My year in pictures

2015 has been one of the toughest and at the same time one of the best years of my life. It’s been an important year of rediscovering my creativity, exploring new concepts as true love, lasting happiness, freedom and the first steps to independence. I’ve grown so much this year, I don’t even feel like I am the same person as I was in January – perhaps mostly because I’ve slowly been taking back the control of my life and ended some toxic and destructive relationships that were draining me. Now, I’ve become a minimalist in the sense of what I have in my life – only good things and people who makes me happy and inspired are allowed to stay in my life, the rest has to go.

My video messages from 2015:

About missing you

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Missing you is bittersweet. While it’s painful at times, I wouldn’t want to be without it. When you are in a situation or a relationship where you don’t feel the sensations of missing somebody, you end up missing the missing – so it must be a good thing after all.

Tales from a heart

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Was it all just a dream? The highway is covered in a light fog. The late autumn landscapes outside the bus windows are blurred and blended with my own reflection in the glass. The trees are bare and I feel just as naked and raw on the inside. I’m so tired and sick with the flu. I want to go home and sleep, but it’s a long ride and I feel uncomfortable in my seat. My heart has a sour feeling to it. I want to cry but I know if I do, I won’t be able to stop. When we said goodbye at the airport, I thought my heart would physically break. After you went through security and you disappeared from my visual world, I felt numb and went to a café and had a sandwich for breakfast, watching your plane vanish into the grey sky.

Missing you is harder now than before you came here. It was easier to miss you like a fantasy than as a reality. And your scent has already faded from my memory.

Was it just a dream? You came here and changed my life. It was almost two weeks of pure intimacy and love. We were being silly, laughing from our cores, citing Girls and creating adventures with our imagination. Exploring each other and ourselves like we were on spiritual safari. Two weeks felt like one single long and wonderful day – even though I got sick and you had to spend some time taking care of me. It was the first time we shared the same time, and it was confusing and that confusion helped us create our own sense of time, where days and nights were blending and bleeding hours, minutes and seconds. We used our heartbeats and time as oxygen. We didn’t need anything else.

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When I got home to my empty apartment, I started to doubt it all. Was it all just a dream? The long trip to the airport and back had detached me a bit from the experience of you and I felt numb and the fever didn’t help. I went to bed and looked over at the empty side next to me where you slept and I could still feel your presence in my bed.

So – was it just a dream? I have never experienced something like this before. Good things rarely happens to me and I still don’t have any words to describe all the feelings you create in me. It will take me a long  time to be able to find the right shades of red to paint what I am feeling. I want to go back to painting, soon. You inspire me to create, especially with your writing. I know we will collaborate together at some point. My future is filled with unexplored excitement. I am overloaded with unexpressed words, brush strokes and colors. I need you and I need my art.

We are not a dream, but what we share is a gift that will keep creating more and more opportunities for us to grow, experience life, creativity and love, together- and in a way, that is a dream, even though it is as real as life itself.

The dawn of a new era

I have spent months working intensely with my self therapy – to let go, to train my brain to think in new ways – a new “thinking style” and I’ve been studying and making a lot of research about this. It is so much hard work to let go and to start over. But at least now, I have cleaned out all the old and shitty thoughts and feelings that daily used to preoccupy my mind and heart, that used to make me feel lost and scared. I am not a slave to my past anymore. I am not bound to my trauma anymore. I have ended toxic relationships, I have been letting go of old dreams and ideals, I’ve been braking bad behavioral patterns and trained my brain to think in a new, healthy and unfamiliar way – so unnatural from the way I used to think. That was a big challenge. To face my biggest fears and not running away from it. To take a leap of faith. And I failed so many times. Miserably. I almost gave up. Seriously. But I didn’t – and the man who loves me, was holding on to me and made sure I never gave up. I am so grateful.

Basically, what I’ve been doing for the past few years was to break free from my prison (inside myself and in the toxic relationships), losing my old skin, my home and sense of identity, cleaning out the remains of the PTSD, building a new confidence and self esteem, reunited with my core – and with my creativity and with my art again after almost 5 years of blockages, found a new skin to live in, making myself comfortable in that skin, building a new home, a new identity based on what I found in my core – and with self forgiveness, a new self respect and starting to love myself and who I really am (not who I want to be or how other people define me), I could finally see that I do deserve to be happy and that I deserve to be loved by another person, something that the toxic relationships made sure that I never could experience before.

I’m proud of all my accomplishments  – and now it’s time to stop focusing on building and starting over – and instead just actually enjoy life and everything I have created for myself.

In only a few days, I’ll meet my new love – Johnny, who’s coming over from the States to see me. I feel excited and a little nervous. I’m thinking, if everything feels right, then I’ll probably have to move to the other side of the world at some point and that is a little intimidating. But I’m trying to stay in the present, where I  feel happy and at peace. And – if that would happen, I am pretty good at starting over. These last couple of years has been very hard, but also the best years of my life. Because I proved to myself that I am able to overcome whatever comes my way. That is all I need to remember when life feels a little scary or uncertain.

No more starting over, for now. This is the beginning of my a new life – my life, and I feel so excited.

The secret details and the softness of time

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“You fill me with details only you have in you to share. Our private little world is the best creation I know”. I could feel the warmth of every word you shared with me in that moment. We were naked in both daylight and moonlight, with our bodies entangled – but on each side of the world. And with 9 hours cutting the reality in two parts. I am always in your future, and at times, you live within the remains of my yesterday. But we are still able to share a wondrous space together – that’s slowly expanding but somehow trapped in the one dimensional, digital  echoes of our voices but released by the softness of the timeless time in our moments.

The details. Secrets of our true selves, invisible for everyone else to see. How is it that it’s so easy to see them when we share our moments together – they were never invisible to me, and they were never invisible to you.

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You are slowly taming my beast within – I am unleashing the grotesque. It’s shocking. I meet myself, inverted into charcoal in a dense, dark light. Rotten heartache. Ancient. Mutating. Always dancing. But you refuse to dance with it.

It’s liberating.

Beyond the unbearable distance,  is our home. Time is both the ocean between us and the bridge stretching across the wild waves. Untameable. Hunger. So close. Closer. You devour my heart. Pixel by pixel.

The distance

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[photo found on tumblr)

I’m feeling restless. Frustrated. In my mind, I am trying to expand my body so it can reach all the way across the Atlantic ocean to America, so I can wrap myself around the man I love. To melt with him in every way possible – or I guess in all the impossible ways. To fall in love is easy, but to build a real and solid foundation of a relationship with someone on the other side of the world is hard. It is hard work and takes a lot of ambition, to overcome the frustration and to deal with the two dimensional world of talking on the phone. But I’ve never felt closer to anyone in my life. We have created a world of our own, our home, with sensuality and intimacy as the core of that home. It is an incredible experience.

If I close my eyes while we are talking, I can feel how the two dimensional reality is dissolving and transforming into a timeless room, filled with warm light and body heat. It’s all there, in the silences between us, or in the sound of his voice – our world and its strong heartbeats. He can touch me gently with his breath, in places I don’t even recognize in myself, he can light my fire so easily by looking at me through the digital blindness.

I didn’t know it could all be there, without me being there at all. Physically I mean. But he will be here – soon. Only a month to go until I can wrap myself around the man I love.

When love is a crime scene

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Yesterday feels like a black hole in my mind. I feel emotionally hungover. Something happened and triggered my PTSD symptoms and I was sucked back into the trauma again. Starting over with an new love, in a new relationship is hard for me. Trust is so very difficult, and accepting real love and to be loved without waiting for a betrayal or to be prepared to be humiliated, is even harder.

My trauma didn’t happen in a dark alley somewhere downtown, or in a park at night. My trauma happened right in the trust and in the love I thought I shared with the man I had let inside my heart. Love was the scene of the crime.

And now, when I have overcome the PTSD and the person I’d become because of the fear and the constant humiliation, I choose to love again, whole heartily and totally, and for the first time I am willing to accept the unconditionally love from another man – even though I am more used to neglect or aggressiveness than love. I feel more at home in humiliation than in tenderness. I feel more comfortable with waiting for the disrespect than to feel respected. And I don’t understand the concept of love as it is supposed to feel – warm, sensual, naked and intimate. It’s all I ever wanted – but I don’t speak the language of accepting it.

Now, I am forced to revisit my crime scene, not in the dark alley or in the park at night, but in trusting love again. It is hard and excruciatingly painful at times. In situations where I am so used to being ridiculed or ignored, I have to accept to just be seen – as I really am, and accepted and loved. It’s like preparing yourself to be hit by a train that’s coming right at you, but instead of the crash, somebody is holding you, and won’t let go until you understand that you are completely safe and there’s no train in sight.

To be safe to feel vulnerable – is the most beautiful thing I have experienced but it is also the scariest thing you could do after a trauma (or in my case, two). I am scared to death of being betrayed, but I am brave enough to risk it. I am doing it. I am going against my fear, I am ignoring the PTSD and the old behavioral patterns I repeated in my past – I am letting go – and starting over.

It’s so fucking scary.

And so incredibly wonderful.

Why I am “jealous” of gay people

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Even if I don’t envy the hardship
and the struggles that gay people have to endure on a daily basis; the prejudice, the ignorance and the cruelty of narrow-minded people and societies, they do have something I wish was available for all of us to use at some point in our lives: a closet to come out of.

In my entire adult life I have found (heterosexual) sex to be the most difficult and confusing thing I know. I’ve had a series of relationships and the sex in all of them always felt uncomfortable and sometimes even painful. Although I was struggling with penetration pain for almost 15 years, I was struggling with something just as painful: emotional numbness and boredom during sex. I couldn’t feel IT, I couldn’t relax and enjoy myself – and I was not feeling any pleasure. While I could follow my lovers excitement and pleasure all the way to the climax while we were having sex, I was having a totally different experience.

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I was traumatized, totally disassociated, distant and bored out of my mind. I couldn’t understand what was wrong with me and I started to hate my body, my pussy and my own sexuality. But at the same time, I could feel how sexual I was, how I was longing to be touched “the right way”, to be fucked “my way” and to be seduced and teased so I wouldn’t be able to take it anymore and just unleash and be as sexual as I knew I was even though I didn’t have any experience of it. I was a butterfly trapped inside a jar and I couldn’t breathe or fly. I was a roaring lioness but chained and drugged in my cage.

My cage was the relationship – the mainstream version of a monogynous relationship, and the jar was my fear to look at the nature of my own sexuality and acknowledging its power and force.

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Once I started to do that – everything else was falling apart. I went to sexual therapy (all alone, without my boyfriend) to “fix” whatever was wrong with me and my body so I could enjoy our sex life again, because it was so good in the beginning. Not once did I think that this might not be MY problem, that perhaps the problems didn’t have anything to do with me at all. Not even once.

I was the one who was experiencing the penetration pain, I was the one who hated my body, I was the one who felt gross and disgusting when I looked at myself naked in the mirror, I was the one who couldn’t relax and surrender to my boyfriend and the moment, I was the one who was a mess and felt like crap about sex. My boyfriends were all fine with the sex and their bodies. They had crooked penises, small ones, big ones, they were fat, skinny, tall, short, they had all kinds of weird sexual fetishes, loved to show off their sexual power or wanted to be dominated and they didn’t feel weird or awkward about it. They were all sexually confident (or like “whatever”) and I was confused and lost. The problem HAD to be mine.

I was the problem.

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But after a year in sexual therapy,
I was finding pieces of my sexuality that I didn’t know existed – or that I had repressed in order to fit into the mainstream idea of a relationship and its boring sexual routines. And this is what I found: I am VERY VERY sexual, I don’t like to be either sexually submissive or a dominatrix – I want to feel like an equal, I don’t enjoy sexual routines (like “foreplay-blowjob/being-licked-doggystyle-some-missionary-more-blowjobs-more-doggystyle-my-orgasm-and-the-big-finale-his-cum-on-my-tits/ass/face-and-then-feel-like-“OK-that-was-that”) I want the sex to feel like a dance – like pure energy being produced and released through my entire being. And I need to feel deeply connected to my lover, not just like the sex is part of the relationship because that’s what a normal, healthy relationship SHOULD include, like a duty or a responsibility, I need to be seduced and teased in order to feel sexually curious, awaken and stimulated, if I’m not, if you try to fuck me after a little foreplay (a foreplay that is ALL about getting me wet, not as a time to really connect through intimacy and love, but more like a necessary act before the “real sex” can begin), my pussy will be dry and the penetration will be extremely painful (like pouring acid into an open wound), it’s very simple really – I am not a machine that you have to lubricate so it can start working properly, I am not only a body that needs to get your sexual attention – I am a woman, a human being and I am sexual in my mind and heart too. That’s where the real sexuality lives anyway even though it is expressing itself through the body.

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I can’t stand the mainstream idea of what sex is. I need so much more than that, I am so much more intellectual and present than it allows us to be. Before I started my journey to find out who I am sexually, I had no idea that sex is so much more than what we learn in school, hear from our friends when they share stories about their sex lives – or from the world of pornography. We think that the definition of sex is penetration and that we have to give blowjobs while the men tug our heads back and forth so our gag reflex is activated (it’s so fucking gross!), We don’t like to swallow a whole banana, we eat it like it’s supposed to be eaten, so we don’t enjoy that feeling during sex but with a cock either. It’s not a pleasant experience. We don’t like to feel like a piece of meat that you can put your cock into just because we are in love with you and because we happen to have a hole down there, we want to feel connected and loved – seen and appreciated for ALL of our existence, body, mind, heart (soul and spirit too) and invite you in because we want to feel close and a sense of total belongingness to you.

And we want to be FUCKED (so badly) but in OUR own way, not in the way you see in the porn movies. There is a balance between passionate, animalistic sex and sensuality and intimacy. It’s not only the women’s responsibility to know this balance, and to have fun with it and explore and experiment with it during sex – it’s an equal responsibility (or enjoyment). I guess you can find it in the love. Look closer. It’s there.

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It was never my problem.

My body wasn’t abnormal or gross, my pussy wasn’t worthless and my sexuality was never in black and white – submissive or dominant. It was a perfect greyscale.

The problem was the shitty relationships and the boring sexual routines – colored by porn and silly mainstream ideas and definitions about what sex is suppose to be like and look like (because it’s so much about how it looks like from an outside perspective – to please the man and to live up to what a girlfriend is suppose to do for her partner), the problem was that I didn’t know that I was allowed to say “Hell no! Fuck this shit! If you can’t seduce me, if we are not connected and intimate in a way where’s there’s room for seduction and sexual exploration (without necessary props and fancy lingerie), then you aren’t allowed to come into me!  It’s as simple as that!”

When I found all the missing pieces to my sexuality – I broke up with my boyfriend and began to look for something new – something true to my sexuality. I had to find out what I DIDN’T want in order to know what I really want and need in sex. No more penetration pain, no more self-loathing. No more boring sex routines or a sense of sexual duty to my partner.

I hereby reclaim every single piece of my sexuality – I am gonna spend the rest of my life exploring my sexuality with someone I feel connected too, seen by, and equal to.

I will borrow the infamous closet from the gay people and I will come out of it and proudly say:

I am NOT sexual in the way I am “supposed” to be in a monogynous heterosexual relationship (and I am not a lesbian or a sexual freak because of that). I am not interested in sex as you see it being interpreted and portrayed in porn movies. Foreplay isn’t good enough – seduction is something that demands something from both of us. There’s no room to be lazy in sex. Lazy-boring sex is not gonna do it for me.

Let’s share any sexual problems, work on them together. To feel sexually lonely and lost is awful. It always results in a feeling of shame and being inadequate.

Let’s be connected.

REALLY connected.

Let’s create fireworks!

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