Tag: self-empowerment

“Every passing minute is another chance to turn it all around”

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It’s a sweet morning. White skies. Stillness outside. Nothing but wind. And I’m under the blankets, watching Vanilla Sky on DVD. There are so many good things about that movie. The soundtrack is amazing. And it’s filled with little lines that fits perfectly as a reminder of what life’s all about.

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Vanilla Sky, 2001

The movie focuses on the relationship between actions and consequences. To be mindless and mindful, to make decisions or to live with the consequences of not making them. To be emotionally numb and awake. To feel like life’s owning you and how to own your own life by painting your sky in any tone you want, grey, blue or vanilla.

It is about human vanity and the comfort of buying a lifestyle and the illusion of happiness it creates, “living the dream” – and the discomfort of adapting to the cruelty of reality – being stuck in a nightmare, a spiral of negativity that makes you feel like a victim of life.

But the message is far from negative. we are not victims of our own lives – we are the artist who’s creating it. “Every passing minute is another chance to turn it all around”. What a powerful statement.

But all those chances are far away from any comfort zone and doesn’t come with a price tag.

You can’t buy yourself a vanilla sky, you have to paint it. The opposite of being a victim of life is to be a Claude Monet. And here comes the importance of making a decision again. Every passing minute is another chance to turn it all around. Now. Now. And now.

The season of pain

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It’s been one of the worst summers of my life. I’ve been dealing with so many different kinds of pains. First the pain of what’s going on in the world – there is so much pain and fear right now with terrorism, increasing of rape cases, especially in groups of men, demagogues and dangerous political drama. But I’ve also endured physical pain. Emotional pain, stirred up by my self therapy (but necessary in order for me to continue my inner journey). But then there’s the pain of knowing that my second trauma is in a way still on going. I don’t talk about this in public because it can hurt people close to me, but even if I don’t talk about it, it’s still there. I’ve learned how to live with it and the pain is mostly about not understanding why. I’ve let got of both shame and guilt, they don’t belong to me. They never did. But it’s this little word “why” that keeps haunting me. To not being able to understand something difficult is not easy to accept. The heart needs closure. And to give up looking for an answer is definitely the best way to heal. That is extremely hard to do. It’s so hard to accept that there aren’t any answers and looking for them is pointless. Trying to figure out why someone hates you, why you are not good enough for them, why they think you deserve to suffer like that, why you are stuck with all the pain while they can live their lives without being bothered by what they’ve done or the consequences of their actions and the lack of responsibility.

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But when I think about it, I don’t think they are happy and living their lives without any pain. I think people who hate other people hate themselves even more. I think these people know more pain than their victims, but in order to survive they project their pain and suffering onto other people. If they wouldn’t hate other people, who would they be? If they didn’t feel superior to other people – how would they feel about themselves?

The most toxic relationships are often between an empath who’s trying to rescue a wounded soul but being the object of projected self hatred and pain. The empath becomes a victim of a dangerous dance of wanting to rescue the wounded soul but end up with a wounded soul because of the dance itself. You can’t rescue other people if you are trying to rescue yourself through them – and you can’t hide from your own pain by inflicting pain in others. It’s that  simple.

Because once they stop hating you, they are faced with their shame, guilt, self loathing – and their unbearable pain. But there is a way out of it, and it’s by facing it. By wanting the dance to end. By surrendering to the reality of things instead of hiding. Instead of escaping into numbing and separating the mind from the soul. Daring to be vulnerable is the key. Daring to be naked in front of oneself – without judging, without feeling shame.

So I wouldn’t trade my pain for theirs. I wouldn’t even trade it for their lack of pain for hurting me. But I do want closure. Whatever it looks like. Accepting that they won’t ever be vulnerable enough to be held accountable for their actions. Accepting that they aren’t strong enough to do that, and I can’t do anything about it. Accepting the feeling of helplessness and powerlessness when it comes to resolving the situation. Accepting the waste of years being part of the toxic dance and allowing them to treat me like a door mat. Accepting that I deserve happiness, success, love, pleasure and freedom, in spite what they think I deserve (which is basically nothing). Accepting that I can’t change another person or make them see what they’ve done or who they are. Accepting that the pain they have caused has helped me become who I am today and feeling grateful for being strong enough to make something good out of it instead of becoming a slave to it. I will never be a slave to my own pain. I want to cut it off and let it go. Maybe one day I’ll be ready to do that or perhaps it’s a slow process and I’m already working on it, what do I know.

Feeling hated is difficult and painful but I imagine it’s nothing compared to what it must be like hating oneself. I am finally in a place in my life where I accept myself for who I really am – and I am able to love myself without feeling shame. It’s a big victory for me – and from here I’ll be able to deal with whatever life throws at me, because I know when something is happening because of me or because of other people’s weaknesses and shortcomings. I used to take on the responsibility for everything, even for things that had nothing to do with me. If someone would hit me, I would think it happened because I was being difficult, that I probably deserved it and that it was my fault, not theirs.

Now I know exactly what belongs to me and what doesn’t. And it makes it easier to live with the pain of being hated and punished for who I am. It’s not my fault. It’s not my responsibility. It’s not my problem. It’s not my choice. It’s not my place to ask why.

Even if this has been a crappy summer, I will make the following months the best autumn of my life. The season of pain is over.

About pity party, love and worlds gone topsy turvy

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From my notebook about the “friends” I invite to join my pity party

I’ve been struggling with anxiety for a few days. There are just so many things up in the air right now, so many important processes in motion. I feel like I don’t have the strength or energy to deal with all of it,  simultaneously – but I have no other choice. And then I feel overwhelmed, lose my drive and host my own pity party (see video in my previous post) and end up with anxiety. The trick is to not let it get to you – just let the change happen without making any resistance.  If you are ready to change or if you are forced to change to adjust to a new situation – then resistance won’t have any impact on the result anyway. But it makes you feel in control for a while.

The more I understand about myself, the more I am able to relate to other people and understand their behavior as well as my own. It isn’t always a good thing. Especially not when they don’t want to hear your brilliant insights or aren’t interested in changing in order to become better people. It is frustrating at times. A spiritual or mental awakening is the biggest thing that can happen to a person, but at the same time it can make you feel intellectually lonely and socially misplaced. I don’t have many friends because I find myself on a different frequency than most people, but the few friends I do have mean the world to me. We share a frequency and a deep understanding of the value of life. Many of my friends have survived traumas or some kind of betrayal.

And because life’s been difficult and painful for both Johnny and me, we share a deep connection based on gratitude and appreciation for what we are able to build together. That and mutual respect for each other’s weaknesses and strengths. I am not used to being in a relationship based on respect. It’s both such a great foundation for our relationship but also the most confusing thing. Where I am expecting an aggressive reaction – he’s kind and accepting, in times when I think he’s gonna judge me for something, he’s embracing it. And when I expect him to betray me, he’s just holding my hand through whatever I’m going through. It makes my whole world go topsy turvy. I am so used to the opposite reactions. To be judged, humiliated, ignored, punished or neglected. The love I feel from Johnny restores all the broken pieces of my poor little heart. I am so grateful.

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I just have to get through this time of anxiety and worries without losing any momentum. I’ve worked too hard for this. I can’t let anything come in between me and my will to live my life as I am destined to live it and not as people expect me to live it. This is the process of independence and it’s scary as hell. And I love it.

The fool

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It’s been raining on and off for days now and I’ve been feeling a little low because of the monthly hormones. I’ve been thinking a lot about where I am going. I’ve never been comfortable with the whimsical nature of the unknown. I always try to tame it, like if it’s a beast, by planning, thinking, dreaming and working hard to achieve something – anything to keep the void of the unknown from getting any closer. The future is my canvas to fill with my own texture, paint and light, but it’s just that the canvas keep changing shape, so my planned brush strokes sometimes miss its target and I end up painting outside the lines where the colors fade with the nothingness underneath. It is quite impossible to tame the unknown, but I’m always willing to try.  At least I have ambitions. I want to live my life without any limitations. To use everything I am in all my achievements. To never stop dreaming. I want to fulfill my life’s purpose. To love and to be loved – all the way. I want to make love without any inhibitions. I want to overcome every fear standing in the way of my curiosity. I want to overcome all the symptoms of PTSD – and to never have anxiety or panic attacks again. I know that through hard work and the right focus, I’ll be able to achieve some of these things, others will just happen naturally without my interference, because that’s how life works – and some of these things will remain a dream and a dream only because you can’t get everything you wish for. I accept that.

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Photo of my used napkins after crying so much, 2013

I’ve wasted too many years on the wrong things. On people who never deserved my time, love or ambition. On worrying. On being insecure and scared. I’ve wasted tears, heartache, headaches, for nothing. It wasn’t even important. It was just stupid and made no sense at all. I’ve been afraid to shine my light and to be who I am because I’ve been scared of being punished for it. To make other people feel uncomfortable around my rawness of strength, power and confidence. But now I’m feeling sad that some people can’t tolerate other people’s strength because it triggers their own inferiority. I wish they could be stronger than that, I wish they could let go of their insecurities and embrace themselves for who they really are. They would shine too. We all have that wonderful rawness inside. I could never go back to how things were. I could never accept being treated disrespectfully or to have my heart and head filled with darkness – a darkness which doesn’t even belong to me. I’m done being forced to carry other people’s darkness and hatred. I don’t deserve that. I never did. No ones does.

I’ve been such a fool throughout my adult life, not because I am stupid but because I’ve tolerated to be treated like one. That will never happen again. I’m only a fool for trying to tame the unknown, and I like that foolishness. It is a driving force. A foolish one perhaps, but it keeps me moving forward no matter what.

It doesn’t make sense anymore

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A little self portrait I made in therapy 2014 about my self-image

If you are like me and you’re always moving forward, life is a series of processes and when you’ve gone through a rough time or a difficult process, another one begins. Time moves like a river, and you just follow its flow and speed with an open conscious and heart. I’ve gone through so many process since the traumas. Survival processes, telling my story out loud for the first time to myself and to therapists, making sense of trauma symptoms, mapping the triggers,  overcoming destructive thoughts, feelings, behavior by practicing new ways and attitudes, acceptance and understanding, self-forgiveness, healing, letting go, starting over and building a new life, from scratch. I’ve done a lot of hard work over a long period of time (15 years). I’ve definitely overcome my traumas, I’m out in the light after spending years in darkness – however there’s a lot to work to be done in the light as well.

I’m at the point in my life where things from my past suddenly don’t make any sense anymore. Before I had some kind of twisted logic to my own behavior, excuses to explain other people’s abuse and idiocy, a distorted self-image (which seemed very realistic to me at the time) and a false sense of control (avoidance, isolation, defensiveness, compartmentalization etc). Now, it all seem weird to me. And I feel strange when I’m encountered with the old stuff. The way I see myself and my whole self image is very different now from just a few years ago. I have stopped trying to make sense of abusive behavior or trying to excuse people’s bad behavior towards me. I don’t allow them to treat me that way because I can’t find any reason for it. I am taking care of myself for the first time ever and I mean ALL of me – body, mind, heart and soul.

At times I’m faced with elements from my past and then it’s like a clash of realities and I end up feeling torn between them. It’s an awful feeling. But once I am taking control over the situation instead if letting it control me – I can move forward without falling back into old behavioral patterns. So I have to keep being in control of my own life, this is the only path to happiness and success. There are no shortcuts and nobody else has the right to that position in my life – I am the director of my life and only I can decide what is best for me. But it’s a very different approach to life if you compare it to what my life has been like where I’ve always expected other people to either save me or lead the way. I’ve grown allergic to that now. I don’t need to be saved anymore – and I ended up saving myself. I hate when people try to control me or tell me what to do. This is a sign of improving independence. I’m happy that things like that doesn’t make sense to me anymore. It really means something. Something very important.

An internal war zone

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I’ve been in bed for the last few days with a horrible headache and an overwhelming pain in my left jaw. Perhaps it’s a toothache or maybe I have a really strong case of a sinus infection, whatever it is it feels like my whole head is an internal war zone. It’s always something.  But I’m not letting this stop me from enjoying the happiness I feel inside. I have so many ideas for future artworks, I’m so inspired. I won’t let this pain or any money problems,  hormone storms or anxiety stand in the way of exploring all the good things in life. My art. Writing.  Pleasure. Love.  Happiness.  Success.  Just being myself.  I know it might sound like something obvious and natural,  but for me it’s been a life long struggle to be able to just be myself – all the way. I mean, without allowing other people to punish or censor me.

And at times when there hasn’t been anyone to punish me, I’ve punished myself. I’m working hard to break all those destructive behavioral patterns. And I’m making progress,  but it’s still very hard for me to just be myself and embrace love and pleasure without expecting a dark shadow hiding behind it. I thought getting over my traumas would be the hardest thing I ever had to do, but letting go of the fear of punishment and humiliation when embracing the good things in life is without a doubt the most difficult and complex process I’ve ever gone through.  People from my past manipulated me into believing that I didn’t deserve good things, that feeling pleasure and happiness made me into a selfish person. They made me believe that I should be shamed for wanting to be myself without apologizing for it. That wanting to express myself made me into a narcissistic attention whore.

I am sort of hoping this pain in my jaw is real and not some subconscious self punishment for being so very happy.  it’s a good thing that I’m doubting the pain like this, it means that the days of self punishments are over, that I’ve moved on – that I’ve moved passed their ridiculous manipulations. It’s a sign of growth.

The process of happiness

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It’s been difficult for me to write anything lately because I’m going through so many different and wonderful processes at the same time. Processes are abstract and hard to define since they are in constant motion, sort of in the same way the sun is dancing across the waves of the ocean. It’s easier to describe a process after going through them. The abstractions are less abstract then and replaced by substance and meaning – and a new sense of clarity. Every day I’m experiencing self-empowerment and letting go of negativity and fear in both little things and in bigger ones. I’m focused on pleasure, happiness and strength – and it takes a lot of trial and error to change my thinking style and the way I’m accepting it.

I try not to fall back in old behavioral patterns, but it’s hard sometimes. I’m still struggling with the thoughts that I don’t deserve to be happy and loved. The manipulation is rooted deeply into my system.

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Why wouldn’t I deserve to be happy and loved? Because it makes someone else feel bad about themselves? Because I am not good enough? Because I am in debt to the world? No theory makes sense, they’re all stupid. If I don’t deserve to be happy – who does? Someone who’s more ‘perfect’? Someone who doesn’t demand anything of other people? Someone who’s less fortune than myself? All this is also so silly.

I understand that I can’t just change my approach to happiness over night. It’s a process, like I described. I just have to accept that today I felt happy and loved and no one could ever take that away because I don’t allow people to punish me or shame me anymore. Happiness is a choice – an attitude of the mind. If I want to feel happy I will find a way to feel happy. And then I’ll actually be happy. That’s the best part of process of happiness.

Harmony of the core

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I feel so much gratitude for the people close to me. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have so much love and appreciation around me. I’m building a new family of friends and I have Johnny across the ocean who’s looking after me more than any other boyfriend whom I’ve shared my everyday life with, ever did. I’m painting my life with careful brush strokes. Every decision I make has a meaning and is pushing me forward instead of me clinging to what I already know. I’ve wasted so many years, tears, heartbeats and headaches on the wrong things. Stuff without substance. Destructive things that drained me. And unattainable fantasies and ghost hunting. Now I want everything in my life to be real, positive and to unfold naturally. I’m done forcing life in the direction I want, life doesn’t work that way anyway. I am accepting the fact that even if I make decisions and even if I’m leading my life in a non-forced way, life is still full of surprises and occasionally creates little mazes for me to find my way out of. But with acceptance comes a sense of inner peace. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted for myself.

There’s a big difference between being comfortably numb and emotionally paralyzed that I use to feel – and to be at peace. The serenity of the heart and mind has nothing to do with passivity. On the contrary – a vivid inner life of wants and dreams but with the acceptance of circumstances and reality, creates the perfect balance of ambition and stillness – and ultimately finding the harmony of the core. It is very difficult to get here, but once you find this place everything in life unfolds with a sense of ease and simplicity.

I killed Lolita

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Today’s selfie.

The working title for the new collection of paintings is at the moment “I killed Lolita”. It’s referring to myself and the way I used to make myself submissive to my past lovers and how I belittled myself as a sexual being – and as a person in general. My very first blog [2005] was called “Little Mia”. This collection of new artworks I’m currently working on is not a ‘revenge’ thing nor an expression of a victim, but simply me returning all the crap people put on me that never belonged to me in the first place. Their judgment, sexual perversions, their dark energy, mind games, power fixation, hate, humiliation and neglect. I don’t want it. I’m getting rid of it. And I’m turning the ugly things into beautiful art. THAT is to really overcome a trauma; to reclaim everything that was ever lost or stolen from me – and turning it into something spectacular. Perhaps even turn it into magic, we’ll see when the collection is finished.

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A Lolita sketch from 2010, I never finished it. The time wasn’t right. NOW it’s time to kill her.

Blog post from 2013.

I even wrote about this Lolita murder process on my old blog. 3 years later it’s finally happening. I guess I am going all in. Facing it all. Letting Lolita out to play and have fun with all the humiliation other people made her go through – hence the titles of my recent paintings: “Sperm Wounds” and “His Wet Dream” and I’m working on “Bleeding Nipples” right now.

“His Wet Dream” by Mia Makila (acrylic on wooden panel), 2015

It’s time for me to explore my inner Lolita. To find her weak spots, her power and strength – and why she’s been with me for so many years. I don’t want to portray her as a flat cardboard version of a blow up doll or simply make her into a victim. Like everything about me, there’s a lot of contradictions here; she’s seductive and that is to be in control – but then she is OK with being forced into a submissive position – why? I have a lot to explore. This will be a fun and important collection of works. I will try to make it my best one yet. And for the first time, I have a little distance to my Lolita. I’m breaking free from her and it feels amazing.

I need to kill Lolita – and  my art is my weapon of choice.

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Me, Lolita style, 2009.

Unfolding

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It’s an incredible love. This is the first time I feel like I am safe enough to be honest about who I am in everything – and knowing I won’t ever be judged for it. Sometimes you need to set someone free in order for them to be able to breathe but still be deeply connected. That’s when trust is your guiding light.

My new life is my favorite work in progress. I’m experimenting with the elements of it to see where everything is meant to go. If it doesn’t fit, I will find a better place for it. I’m exploring my boundaries and the shapes and forms of my freedom and independence. I’ve never been able to do this before. Johnny is the most generous soul I’ve ever met and he’s letting me be me – all the way, even though I have my own philosophy about so many things that could easily scare him off. I’m not like other people so I need to find my own lifestyle that feels authentic and true to who I am. This is where I’ve done a lot of damaging compromises in my past – and let men castrate me in order to fit their view of who I should be instead of who I am.  I’ve let them tame my inner wilderness until every ounce of me has dozed off and then I’m just there to serve their needs.

This is my time. The age of Mia. And I’m creating it in real time, letting things unfold without trying to control it and just improvising instead of planning. All I know is that I feel like I’m slowly getting everything I’ve ever wished for. And for the first time, I’m not scared of losing it – because I have trust. I trust Johnny. Myself. I have trust in people. And in life itself. What more do I need to be able to express every side of myself that has been quiet and chained for so long?

To be special and not ‘special’

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Every day I surprise myself a little with my intellect and creativity. I was brainwashed and manipulated for so many years, to believe that I am stupid and incapable. That I am ‘special’ in that other way – ‘special’ like a freak. Manipulations are tricky and even if you are a smart person and even if you are very strong, there are ways for them to break you down and to groom your mind in order for them to match your thoughts with their twisted perception of things. It’s a slow process and you might not even register that it’s happening to you. And suddenly, you stop believing in yourself, you question your taste, your intellect and the value of your experiences – or you start doubting friendships, interests, hobbies, goals, dreams and desires. You lose the connection to the things you love – and instead it’s replaced by their judgment and vision of what’s right and wrong.

Here is a list of things some people close to me have manipulated me into believing:

  • that I am not a real artist, it’s only a hobby
  • that I have bad taste in movies, literature, music and just bad taste in general
  • that I am too naive to be smart and strong
  • that my seduction is an act, that is something to laugh about
  • that I am incapable of being independent
  • that I’m too stupid to be taken seriously
  • that I’m too short and small as a person to be of significance
  • that I’m unintelligent because I use my creativity and imagination where other people might focus on logic and ‘inside-the-box’ -thinking.
  • that I can’t have sex because I demand too much of my lovers (to be connected, sensual, seductive and expressive)
  • that I don’t deserve to be happy
  • that I don’t deserve to be successful
  • that I don’t deserve to express my sexuality
  • that I don’t deserve to be popular
  • that I don’t deserve to be loved
  • that I am selfish
  • that I am egocentric
  • that I am ugly and gross when I put on some weight
  • that I have no value as a writer
  • that I am not allowed to call myself a writer
  • that I should not be heard
  • that I should not be seen
  • that I am tragic because I’ve been depressed
  • that I am difficult because I’ve been struggling with PTSD and traumas
  • that I am a problem because I suffer panic attacks
  • that I am a social misfit because I have a lot of integrity and don’t engage in social activities
  • that I’m worthless

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My art is the biggest part of who I am – it’s not a hobby nor does it make me a freak

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The list is not a collection of my own words – these notions doesn’t reflect my own perception of myself. So I’ll let it all go. I’ll never look at myself that way ever again. I’m out of the manipulations. Their spell is broken. I am beautiful. Smart. Talented. My art is amazing, not a hobby but my legacy to the world. And I am special – in a positive way and not as a freak. Well, I don’t mind being called a freak if by freak you mean ‘I’m proud of who I am  without apologizing for it!’. If so – then I’m a very proud freak!

Post ‘Post Traumatic Stress Disorder’ – Reclaiming my history

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Me – reclaiming my own history

My life is slowly coming together in all areas. The things that used to be broken inside me, are healing, the dark memories are fading – and I am liberating everything that was ever suppressed or filled with shame and fear. Reclaiming my strength. I am not suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder anymore, even though it will always be there, but in the background. I’m going through a post ‘PTSD’ phase right now.

This is the first time in my adult life when I can enjoy my days without expecting abusive attacks, humiliation or painful neglect (including self neglect). I feel happy. Strong. At peace. Awakened. With that comes a new sense of clarity – and suddenly I see things from a completely new perspective. From a place of self-compassion and disillusion. But it’s not always a pleasant experience. It can be quite difficult at times.

I look at myself, the me I was back then – and I see so many strange and confusing things I had to put up with. Things like always being on the lookout for a possible betrayal just because I was so used to it. Little betrayals. Big ones. Traumas. And things like other people’s sick behavior that I transformed into my own shame and guilt. Like it was my fault they would behave like that in front of me. Now, I look at all that and I can’t even picture myself with those people anymore. Sharing my bed with them. Sharing their sperm. Blood. Life. Plans for the future. I can’t see myself laughing at their jokes and innuendoes like I did – stuff that was supposed to belittle- and humiliate me in an indirect way. The passive aggressive crap. I can’t imagine how I could allow anyone to ever spit in my face. Or drag me across the floor, holding me by my hair so that some hair would come out by the roots. The really aggressive crap.

To be called ‘cunt’. ‘Whore’ (by 4 different men in total). ‘Disgusting’. ‘Worthless piece of shit’. To be forced into the position of a victim. Or to have my orgasms being forced out of me because it was a turn on for him when he was feeling like he was in charge of my body. Power stuff. I hate that. My discomfort was his fetish. My sense of pleasure was not interesting to him. Or to a lot of the other men before him. Not important. And I wasn’t important. Just like I was a whore to some men, I was a fuck-doll to others. Or a punch bag. A dog.

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At times I felt like I was halfway to this sexually abusive style. What a nightmare.

I just can’t see myself in those types of situations anymore. It hurts so much when I look at myself from this new perspective. I feel very naked in front of myself and my own history. It has the ability to tear me apart at times. But I have decided to use everything to my advantage. I will reclaim every moment of humiliation and abuse – and turn it into something useful. A detail in a novel. A side note in a blog post. In a future lecture about overcoming trauma. And as part of my private mythology that I use in my art. I’ll squeeze the juice right out of it. If they wanted me to have all these painful experiences, I will turn it into magic because that’s what I do. That’s who I am.

The details of humiliation vary in dark tones and pain. But they are all mine. Like the awkward detail including one of these men who, before dinner (as a regular daily routine for a few months in the beginning of our relationship) would take out his semi-flaccid penis and put it on the edge of the dining table so it would look isolated from the rest of his body – and then he would make a hand gesture like it was saying ‘please… behold… and adore my pride and joy.. please…look – stare for all I care’ and with a smile on his face he would patiently wait for my reaction. In the bright light from the big lamp hanging above the table, he would also be in full display for any people who happened to pass by our windows – and for the family across the street (with two teenage sons) who were also having dinner at the same time every night and could see us just like I could see what was served on their plates. This is a confusing detail in my history of humiliation. But what the hell was it all about? What does it even mean? He seemed so proud of himself – even though his penis was flaccid and the situation was bizarre.

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With his dick next to the bowl of rice, I would cover my eyes and giggle like an embarrassed little school girl. Although it was so much more than an embarrassment. I was mortified. Humiliated. And I was suffocating, hoping the neighbors hadn’t seen the routine this night either. I lost my apetit. But I forced the food into my mouth after he’d zipped up. Like a good girl. Just like I zipped up after he had forced my orgasms. Perhaps it was his twisted idea of equality.

Not wanted for who I am but for what I have to give

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I am suddenly reminded of who I used to be. Other people’s coldness makes me feel like my past is starting to breathe again. My inside turns into a closed box. Inside the box is a smaller version of myself – screaming but without any sound.

Realities clashing. Still no sound. Muted rage. And I’m standing here like a time traveler.

I am reminded of who I used to be in a time where nothing was solid. Not even time itself. Time was broken. There was a glitch in the timeline. And missing pages in a long story.

I am reminded of who I was in that story.

A girl who wanted so much to feel wanted. For all the things she kept inside the box. All the wild and free butterflies of her youth. And the bleeding house inside her chest.

She didn’t know it was a misunderstanding. She was never wanted for those things. Not even for her green eyes. Not for her talent. The nuances of her smile. Not for the depth of her soul. Or the welcoming heart between her legs.

Not even for what she had to give. But for what she was willing to let them steal from her.

Butterfly after butterfly on a plate. Delicate wings with the most delicious taste of innocence. A blood house torn apart by their hunger for more than she had to offer.

When the girl wanted something in return there was nothing but silence and rejections.

Empty faces. Humiliation. Ejaculations.

Frozen leftovers. Dirty plates. Zero butterflies.

I still remember the feeling of being her. The loneliness. The excruciating vulnerability.

Unwanted memories. Unwanted coldness. Toxic words. I don’t want it.

I don’t offer myself on a plate to other people anymore. I don’t have anything to give to people who don’t appriciate me. The memories are fading along with the sense of their frigid love.

I’m not that girl anymore. In a way, I never was. It was just a big misunderstanding.

Turning shame into pride

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This week has been really intense. I’m in this new place where everything is finally starting to come together. My life has been really fragmented for so long, but now it’s like all the pieces are finding their way back to create a more solid shape. There are still some cracks and gaps to fill, but it’s just a matter of time until I find whatever is missing.

I am really happy I made so much research about shame, vulnerability and fear of failure/success, because they were all tangled up together inside me – one thing fed the other in a very destructive way. I feel so liberated. Where I used to feel shame, I now feel a sense of pride. I had lost the joy of looking at my own art – it made me embarrassed and uncomfortable. But now I feel very connected to my artworks and I feel happy looking at them. During the years of blockages and artistic drought, the characters in my art turned into my enemies. They were never as perfect as I wanted them to be. Not expressive enough. Not as alive as I wished they could be. My art made me frustrated. It pissed me off. Made me depressed. I don’t see it like that anymore. I feel really proud of what my mind, eyes, hands and soul can create together. I try to not judge it and to let it be whatever it is without wanting it to be more than it is; more perfect, more expressive, cooler, more playful, creative or more intellectual. It is what it is and I created it, it is part of me. It is something to be proud about. It is the part of me that makes me really special. I will try to remember that more.

The new painting (still without a title) is sitting on the easel in my studio right now and I am in love with it. I can’t wait to work on it tomorrow again. I’ve missed this feeling of love and intoxication in the first stages of making a painting (before you feel done with it and start thinking about the next project).

The destructive doubt

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Step by step, I am deconstructing myself in order to find understanding and acceptance. In each step, I am healing a little bit more. During a period of only a year or so, I’ve dismantled old survival strategies, destructive behavioral patterns, I’ve demolished false self-images, fantasies, old belief systems, I’ve explored and confronted concepts such as fear, guilt, shame, control, power, anxiety, worry, vulnerability, dependency, suffering, trauma, sexuality, trust, home, integrity, thinking styles, health, strength, awareness, destructive relationships, freedom, victimization, law of attraction, peace of mind, meditation, letting go, starting over, change, psychological projections, the core, self sabotage, happiness, creativity, failure, success, pride, connection, mental paralysis and passivity – and love.

It’s been hard work. A LOT of hard work. And after I’ve filled nearly 15 notebooks with therapy notes and self-therapy notes, in only two years – I’ve cleaned my inside from the chaos and pain of two traumas. The pain will always be there of course, but it’s not an active pain. I think I have to write a book about all this – I want to share my knowledge, especially with younger women who could identify with what I’ve been going through.

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My latest challenge and concept to break down – so I can get to the core of it and apply that knowledge to my consciousness and awareness – is ‘doubt’ – or self-doubt. And I think it’s the essential ingredient in most self destructive thoughts, behavior and perception. Whenever there is a doubt – there is a sense of loss. A loss of belief, trust, acceptance or faith. And if we’re talking about the belief, trust and faith in oneself, the doubt will lead to insecurities and suffering. It’s the moment where you start to doubt yourself that can lead to damaging decisions – or the consequences of not making one at all.

Imagine the doubt as a meteorite coming right at you. Now imagine its impact – and how it will change your thoughts, behavior and feelings just like a crater changes the surface of the Earth. The doubt-meteorite is an interruption of a flow of thoughts and behavior – and a disruption in our confidence and self-esteem. This is very destructive.

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The impact of the doubt-meteorie will create thoughts like “am I good enough?”, “perhaps their abuse is my fault after all?”, “am I really worthy of love and happiness?”, “could somebody really love me?”, “can I really do this?”, “what will other people think of me?”

Every doubt comes with a little fear. To overcome self-doubt – we need to examine that fear in order to rebuild whatever it destroyed inside us. Doubt can be good and can carry a lot of important information – like if we have doubts about a relationship, situation, a job or in things we know we need to change in order to be happy. But self-doubt is nothing but destructive. Believing in yourself and the things you do, will protect you from the any approaching meteorite inside your mind.

Red

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Photo of me from March 2006, when I began dyeing my hair red

Today marks an important anniversary for me; I have been a fiery redhead for 10 years now! It might sound a bit superficial to you – but there is a story behind the transformation.

I was born a blonde. When I was a little girl, my dad used to tell me that my hair was made of gold and if I would brush it a hundred times – I’d turn into a real life princess. Of course it never happened and I thought my hair looked more like hay, or something less exciting.

When I was only 18 years old, I met my abuser He was a schoolmate and my first real love – and I stayed with him for five years. Those years would change my life forever. I lived in a secret Hell, and I didn’t tell anyone about the abuse, not even the cops that came to our apartment because the neighbors heard me scream for help. I kept it all within myself and it grew, and grew like a black tumor inside. I started to loath myself – I projected his evil onto myself. His dark visions of me turned into my own twisted self-images. I thought was fat, ugly and gross, the same words he used to describe me with.

Before I met him, I was a very strong and expressive young person and I tried to keep the memory of that girl alive in my soul – and when I finally found the courage to end the marriage, I looked for her to find strength. But the trauma had blurred the memories of myself and it was harder than I thought to find the way back to myself. I felt lost.

I didn’t know who I was anymore. I felt like I was this blonde shadow of someone I used to be before I turned into nothing but a victim.

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Three years after the divorce, in 2006, I felt like I was in a place where I could start looking for a new me, instead of trying to go back in time and try to rescue myself before the trauma happened. I hated the position of being a victim and I made a promise to myself that I would do anything to overcome my horrible past. Unfortunately, at this point, I was struggling with a new trauma  and it became the final straw – so I slipped into a deep depression. Even though this was one of the hardest times of my life, I kept myself alive by working with my art – non-stop. I created art (the first collection horror art) to distract myself from the pain I felt inside – and it’s safe to say that my creativity saved my life. It’s not the first time – and it won’t be the last.

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“It’s All In My Head” by Mia Makila, 2006 [mixed media on canvas]

My Hell

“My Hell” by Mia Makila, 2006 [mixed media on canvas]

I kept pushing through the pain with my will to survive and to thrive through my art. To make something beautiful out of the grotesque and ugly that was happening to me at the time. I felt like I was going through a metamorphosis in my art – it changed so much, both technically and in expression. That’s when I really started to change as a person too. And I decided to become everything I wanted to be – and to not only overcome my traumas, but also to become who I was meant to be in this world. I knew it was a real challenge, but I also knew I could do it. I would recreate a new version of myself, piece by piece and by facing all my demons (that’s why I make so many demon portraits). I would become my own work of art.

I began this metamorphosis by dyeing my hair red – to make a real visible change. Then I put myself in therapy. I wanted to use every expression I could find, every possible way to disassociate myself from who I used to be. “His wife”, “the victim”, “the submissive”. I now looked so different from her.  It was liberating.

That is the story behind my red hair. I highly doubt that I’ll ever go back to being blonde again. I love my fiery hair, it illustrates so well what’s in my heart. I am still a work in progress. I’ve failed a million times and I’ve fallen down the dark rabbit hole, over and over again. It has taken me 10 years of hard work to overcome my traumas and I’m still not quite over them yet – but at least I am on my way to achieve something extraordinary. I can feel it.

The fiery red will guide me on my path. It’s so much more than just a color. So much more.

The space in between

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For four days I’ve been trying to write something here, but it’s like the words just won’t come out. I can sense them, flowing like a river inside me, but something is blocking them from floating out on the screen.

At times I am going through very abstract phases of healing and soul searching and it’s hard to form any tangible sentences to describe what I am experiencing. It’s nothing religious or anything like that – it is simply the space in between two different versions of me or my own perception of things. A space where it’s too late to feel like my old convictions are still believable, because I am growing out of my old beliefs but it’s too early to totally grasp a different and deeper understanding. It makes me a bit withdrawn and contemplative. But it’s exciting – to let go of whatever I thought I knew about myself and to open my mind and expand it in order to welcome new and different ideas. My warped self images are burning away and being replaced by a sense of inner freedom. But it’s in the gaps in between these different viewpoints where I’m feeling a bit lost.

On the inside, something is always dying and being reborn. There is a sense of innocence being lost and found while other things are already rotten and something new stars to grow out of the decay. It’s a wonderful process of growth and strength. But it can be overwhelming – some days I just cry and cry. Not because I am sad, but because I feel so damn alive and so full of gratitude and love.

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Today

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I am spending so much time trying to erase my past that I feel blindsided when I discover that the past never cared to erase me in the same way. Suddenly there’s a clash of realities. A confusion in perception. Memories and question marks blending inside my bloodstream. I had a dream last night where I died and I was bleeding red syrup. It kept leaking out of me in slow motion. Perhaps that’s what happens when your heart is contaminated by a trauma.

Days like this is a reminder that the world I am slowly creating for myself is much more beautiful than the world we are born into. Reality is just raw material for creating magic.

Reclaiming my intelligence

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Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do   

–  Marianne Williamson

 

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An awakening is not only a pleasant experience. It can be brutal at times. I can see things so clearly now and it’s all painfully real. Suddenly I get these realizations – or like a spiritual ‘epiphany’ – and I start to look different to myself. It feels both liberating and scary at the same time – and can be very confusing at times. This week I made a strange realization.

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Throughout my whole life, I’ve heard that I’m different, special or an ‘odd bird’ – but I’ve never really defined what that means to me and what consequences those labels have had on me and my life.

I haven’t followed conventions and rules – so I am considered as ‘difficult’. I never understood superficial social interactions – so I was labeled ‘weird’. I have never wanted to belong to any group, any religion, political party or ideology – so I am a ‘misfit’. I have always expressed myself and who I am – so I have been considered to be ‘too much’ – and deserve to be punished. I have my own Universe inside me, I have a vivid imagination and a heightened emotionality – so I’ve been called  ‘crazy’ (mostly in a positive sense, whatever that means). I’m overcoming PTSD – so I must be ‘sick’. The right hemisphere of my brain is more dominant than the left therefore I use my imagination, empathy and creativity more than I use logic – so I must be ‘stupid’.

But that’s just it – I am none of those things. I just have a lot of integrity and won’t give up who I am in order to ‘fit the system’. I am not mentally ill because I have PTSD, I am simply fighting the traumas, caused by other people’s madness and manipulation. I am not crazy, just open-minded.

But, what I’ve discovered lately is how much and often I’ve belittled myself in order to make other people feel smarter and less insecure around me. So much so that I forgot about my own intelligence. I acted stupid, felt stupid and then believed in my own lie – I started to believe that I actually was stupid. It might be hard for you to understand why I would do this to myself – but it has an explanation, rooted in the PTSD (in psychology called “regression”). It’s a common survival strategy during a trauma; to endure unbearable long-term situations the victim takes on more childish mannerisms in order to escape the responsibility and emotions of an adult. There is often a bond between the abuser and the victim in which the victim is both terrified of the unreliable nature of the abuser and at the same time is seeking comfort and security in the same person (I call this destructive bond ” the dance of death “, this routine is why people stay in abusive or toxic relationships). To act oblivious, or more ” innocent ” can make the victim feel safer because the abuser (especially in domestic violence) is also the “caregiver” and authority figure as some sort of a parental substitute. It’s a complex phenomenon.

So I felt comforted in the way I acted stupid – and that allowed the abuser to seem smarter and more in control, so I wouldn’t question the situation. Sometimes abuse seem to make more sense than the thought of breaking free and having to deal with the aftermath – that’s what abuse does to your mind. After the trauma, this was just part of my twisted behavior and part of my PTSD. I didn’t even notice how I was belittling myself and acting stupid. It became part of my self image.

At one point I even thought about making a boyfriend my legal guardian. That’s how fucked up this self image was. I thought I was incompetent, talentless, worthless and such a victim of my own bad decisions that I couldn’t be trusted.

I can’t believe how I could ever think like that. It’s shocking. Gross. Bizarre. And embarrassing.

After my last break-up  in 2014 I started to change, drastically. I had overcome most of the PTSD symptoms through therapy and nothing made sense anymore – I was finally shedding skin and finding closure in all the destructive behavioral patterns.

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Now I am finally able to acknowledge my own intelligence, not only how smart I am but also HOW I am smart – in what way I am smart, what my resources are, my strength and my competencies. Basically it’s all about the qualities that I’ve been bullied for – the qualities that made people say I am difficult, weird, too much, a misfit and crazy. All that is what make me intelligent and amazing. I never want to act stupid again just to make other people feel better about themselves.

I know my intelligence is rare and beautiful – and when I combine it with my creativity and imagination I can be very powerful. I know it can make people uncomfortable but it’s just not my problem.

I’ve only just begun exploring my intelligence and where it can take me. I wish all people could experience this kind of enlightenment – even if it uncovers embarrassing and painful truths about who we have been forced to be while hiding our true selves. We all deserve to shine from within.

The importance of role models

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Made with Square InstaPic Some of my favourite role models: Anne Shirley (the main character in L.M Montgomery’s novel Anne of Green Gables), Ingmar Bergman, J.K Rowling, Pippi Longstocking, Frida Kahlo and Edvard Munch.

Last week I made a list of my role models, to see if they have anything in common – and what that would say about me. What I found was actually quite surprising. My role models are a mix of artists, fictitious characters and creative personalities (I also included some scientists like Stephen Hawking and the whole institution of NASA. The Weta Workshop in New Zealand is the perfect example of the meeting point –where creativity, imagination, absolute dedication and respect for make-believe worlds come together) but they did have a great deal in common.

Most of them are survivors of both internal and external struggles; depression, anxiety, overcoming illnesses or some kind physical purgatory but also the struggle of maintaining their core beliefs and integrity in a society which doesn’t allow much space for that kind of genuine spiritual freedom. They refuse to victimize themselves although they are emotionally or physically crippled in some way – instead they embrace vulnerability and use it as a source of raw material to put into their work. Almost like a testimony of human nature – somewhere between the horror and supernaturalism of life itself.

My role models are ambitious, curious and focused and all that is woven into their creativity. They use it boldly to express themselves and to be seen in a world with closed eyes for whatever is painted outside the lines of conformity and any approved ideology. They are brave and courageous in that sense. As a teenager, I was obsessed with Madonna and her song Express Yourself was like my own private anthem of who I wanted to become and what I wanted to achieve in life; “Express yourself, so you can respect yourself”. My role models are individualists who are celebrating their true nature instead of hiding it behind mainstream ideals and ideas of appropriate decorum, perfectionism and conformity. They follow their own path. Uncompromisingly. They do things in unconventional ways and add humor and depth to it. Like Pippi and the way she goes about scrubbing her wooden floor. The boring task of house cleaning turns into a fun adventure. It is liberating.

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 The most striking feature my role models have in common – is their need to create magic. Reality can be harsh, raw and unforgivably hard at times – and the antidote is and has always been the product of human imagination. Religion, occultism and the fantasy worlds of artists, writers, musicians, dancers and actors have served as escapism and vicarious truth and realities since the dawn of humanity. Nietzsche claimed that “no artist tolerates reality”.

Anne Shirley in L.M Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables (1908) creates her own magical worlds which allows her to escape the painful reality of being an orphan – and the misfortune of being a misfit with a deeper intellect and more vivid imagination than society allowed for a young girl at the time (doomed with red hair and all).

The need for instant transcendence and transformation is translated in the artist’s imagination and creativity as a gateway to a higher level of living and existing. A ‘homemade’ space of total freedom and a place where magic is allowed to happen without any threatening consequences and the adamant qualities of real life.

The artist creates a Universe in which he/she is both God and the vulnerable mortal, but with a sense of control of his/her own destiny. Like Alexander in the opening scene of Ingmar Bergman’s Fanny and Alexander (1982) where he is seeking magic beyond his own boredom of passing time (and ultimately the waste of life).

The results of my research about role models really surprised me –  I suddenly realized how much of them I can see in myself. I share a lot of qualities and strength that I admire and respect in these people. It kind of shocked me to see how much of them was reflected within myself. I am ambitious, brave, creative, I too am overcoming traumas and hard times without accepting the role of a permanent victim. I am searching for that spiritual freedom by following my own path. And I never thought I would discover just how important magic is to me. It made me think of the years of creativity blockages and mental paralysis – where I created my own worlds of magic at home – with interior decorating almost like backdrops or settings – where my imagination could run wild and free, until I was able to create art again (any moment now).

My “winter room” (which was featured in a local interior decorating magazine) in 2009:

and this is in my next home, a house in Stockholm, it’s the same room that I just kept transforming over and over again (2009-2014):

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It is important to examine our role models and what they stand for – because it will expose something very vital about ourselves. They are there to remind us who we really are, beyond all the crap we are going through in life. They are our spiritual family where everything makes sense in the most comforting way.

And once in a while I get messages like this on Facebook:

Learning how to say “Fuck it!”

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I’m slowly making progress in my process of self-empowerment. I’ve made so much research about fear of failure – and fear of success that I now feel confident in my awareness about these mattes (both my weaknesses and my resources and strength) and I feel ready to embrace failure and welcome the benefits of making mistakes in order to become wiser and better at things.

“People who succeed have the courage to fail.”

– Richard Sudek

But the most important and valuable thing I’ve learned about fear of failure – and success, is to say “fuck it!” when it comes to what other people think or say about me and what I do. To not apologize for who I am or for the decisions I make in order to reach success. To not censor myself in order to make other people feel more comfortable or superior And to not feel responsible for other people’s opinions and judgment. Just “fuck it!” – I am who I am and I feel damn proud of myself! I’ve accomplished many amazing things already and I will achieve so many victories and successes in my future. The shame and humiliation of a possible failure – or the fear of being punished for being successful is slowly fading.

Fuck it!

Goal Blocks

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I’m currently planning my comeback as an artist and and the long journey to success by breaking down the essential steps to be able to be more creative and to rebuild my career after the 7-year hiatus (due to creative blockages and being all burned out). It is important to do this slowly and methodically, otherwise I am putting my health and my whole future career at risk. If I rush it, I will just end up burned out again. It is frustrating, but I accept it – and now it’s just a matter of improving my self-esteem before I can get into that focus and flow that is necessary when striving for success.

In his book Outliers; The Story Of Success (2008), Malcom Gladwell states that it takes 10 000 hours of practice and preparations before you become really, really good at something – and add talent and a willingness to work extremely hard to that and you’ve got the recipe for success. Here is the ironic part: while being depressed and passive in my art career for so many years, I haven’t really been completely passive when it comes to creating art.

Because I couldn’t paint anymore (I just completely froze, every time I stood in front of the easel), I started to explore digital art instead and I’ve practiced and learned so much during these years and I’ve become really, really good. Since I started digging deeper into the digital media in 2012 during my creativity blockage, I’ve created over 60 digital artworks! While I was crying and being depressed because I couldn’t paint – I was slowly became an expert of making digital art. Funny.

And, I’ve also spent at least an hour every day writing on my blog – and I’ve been blogging for 11 years now, which may not be a big achievement in itself, but I have become very good at expressing myself through writing. It feels completely natural for me to write every day now – just as natural as painting or creating digital pieces.

And finally – if I hadn’t been depressed and creatively passive during these last 7 years, I wouldn’t have spent so much time binge watching so many American movies and TV-series and become this good at English.

So it all worked out fine in the end. I might have lost many years working as a successful artist – but now,  I’ve collected knowledge, practice and cleaned the mental palette of old energy, mannerism and distorted self-images. I’ve grown and matured both as a person and as an artist.

At some point 7 years ago, I just stopped believing in myself – and that is the true death to an artist or any creative person. I will never make that mistake again. Nothing and nobody can stop me from achieving all my goals and dreams now. This is my time to not only rebuild my old career – but to design and create a new one.

Slowly.

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Regret

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This week has been intense even if I barely left the apartment at all. I don’t think I’ve met anyone other than my dad this week. I’ve been isolating myself on purpose. To go through this process of self-empowerment – to really break through the old layers of self-images, false convictions and warped perspectives on myself and the world, I have to have the biggest dedication to the task and an intense focus – otherwise I won’t find any clarity and enough strength to actually change my behaviour and way of thinking. I love to be really focused, to make research and to dig deeper into something that fascinates me. I would make an excellent scientist if I had any talent for logic. But I don’t. My mind is too wild and free.

There is, however, an overwhelming side effect to go this deep into the process of healing; the clarity and the realizations makes everything you’ve gone through look completely real and raw, in some kind of harsh daylight. I can see every mistake I’ve ever made, every bad decision, every toxic relationship and its destructive anatomy, every persona I’ve ever created to adjust to a life I felt trapped in and I can see why it was so hard for me to break free – and it’s painful. Overwhelmed with emotions and nowhere to direct it. I have cried a lot this week, but I’m not sad, not really. I’m just waking up, and it’s a rude awakening. It’s a constant stream of awakenings when you are healing.

But I do feel a lot of regret. In fact, I think I regret everything in my whole adult life up to the point where I fell in love with my best friend last year. It was the first time I’ve ever felt truly seen, by anyone, ever and it inspire me to look deeper into myself, beyond who I have been and who I wish to become – it was the first time I saw myself that way.

I’m sure it’s unhealthy to feel regret, to feel nauseous and claustrophobic while thinking about the past, but I can’t help it. I regret it all. The relationships, the sex, the lifestyles I had, the way I saw the world, my taste in music, clothes, friendships, how I acted on social media, blog posts, selfies, old flirts and flings, phone calls and Skype talks. I regret food I use to eat, routines I used to have, art I used to like, celebrities I used to look up to, attitudes I had and belief systems I followed. I regret it all.

But I’m not bitter – in fact I feel liberated. I feel free.

I won’t isolate myself much longer, I’m soon done with this phase of the process, I can feel it. I’m gathering new energy, pure and raw, that’s why I need solitude and silence to clean the old energies out of my system.  Then I will start making art again, for real this time. And perhaps be a little more social.

I see my feelings of regret and the way my heart gets a little panicked when I think about everything I used to be, know and believe – as a perfect guideline to my next destination on my inner journey. That way, it will be a positive thing.

Building an invisible house

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I made this image to illustrate my process of self-empowerment

I’m taking big steps in my self therapy – which I will refer to as ‘self-empowerment’ from now on. I am on a different journey now than during the years I lived with the PTSD where the cruel symptoms ruled my every day life.

During my abusive marriage, 2003

I might not be the smartest person in the world, I might not know much about anything really – but I am an expert when it comes to the process of losing the connection to oneself – and finding a way back. It’s been taking me about 15 years to accomplish that.

My old journey was to overcome PTSD and my new journey is all about reclaiming life and the power I lost to other people by accepting (and encouraging) a submissive position.

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It all comes down to vulnerability. For a long period of time, I was trapped in various situations where it was forced on me from many directions. Vulnerability became the texture of my identity – and so also the visual expression of myself. I couldn’t see it. I was busy reliving trauma every day because of the PTSD (that I didn’t knew I suffered from at the time). But the vulnerability was the only thing I could offer men in relationships, I confused it for warmth and love – and so I attracted the narcissists, the aggressive ones, the assholes, the ‘strong silent’ men without any empathy – and the broken souls in denial with a tough exterior to overcompensate for their own vulnerability issues.

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I payed the price for their repressed pain or for their lack of emotions – and I let them. I gave them my vulnerability as a currency so they could buy my loyalty, love and sexuality with it, over and over, without losing any of their own currency. I cared so much, they didn’t care at all. I risked my life for them, they neglected me and took no risks at all. I thought that love would either ‘make me or break me’ – they thought of me as a submissive addition to their lives which had no real influence on their hearts. Indifference is a perfect armor, it allows no emotional risks at all. I can’t relate to it  – it’s a blind spot for me. I was an easy target for their selfish conquests when it came to what my vulnerability was worth – and  how it was perceived. They were addicted to it – and it made me look weak so they could look stronger, better and smarter.

Therefore, the first step to self-empowerment is self-forgiveness. I have forgiven myself for being so careless with my vulnerability and for letting men do whatever they want with it.

And with self-acceptance – where I am accepting both my weaknesses – and seeing my vulnerability as something precious that I have to protect and maintain (which, ironically, makes it shrink) and my strengths and resources (where vulnerability is a great one if handled with care) – I have a good foundation for what I need to achieve success, happiness and self-fulfillment.

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2015

It’s not a random coincidence that my recent artworks all have houses in them – and that I registered my new website as “The House of Mia Makila”. I am slowly building an invisible house around myself – a protection of inner strength and an uncompromising integrity – an empowerment of everything I am – to myself and to the world.

Iceland (digital)

Iceland (digital)