#Krešo Sever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mojput-mypath · 6 years ago

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6-months drama/6-mjesečna drama

MY 6-MONTH CRISIS

In average, every six months I have a minor existential crisis, one when I question all I do, where I live, my pay, my work atmosphere, the job, love, friendships, I also question myself. This time it was a bit shorter and there was less drama. Or was it? Is it finished?

After a small enlightenment episode, a blackness took over me. Cuttlefish ink. Cuttlefish are such pretty animals. The ink so powerful, right in the bullseye.

The clearest image in my mind now is a recent impression of a complete blackout I had. The mouth kept opening and the words kept coming out. Well, if it were only the words that came out...but no, they were shouted out from the depth of my soul, and they tore my throat apart. As much as they tore my throat apart, they must have torn her heart apart.

The situation is not so important, the people involved are not important, what matters is the deep scarring. Left in mine, and guessing in the other heart as well. Absolute verbal violence. I have not yet graduated from the first Yama, in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras: non-violence. Nor was I non-violent, nor was there non-violence in my presence. It was just the opposite.

CRAZY FROM MADNESS

If this is flowering, it is certainly a strange one. The flowering of a complete personality, is it a road paved with black bricks? This must have been the darkest blackness coming out of the depth of my soul.

To be spiritual must mean to be polite. But if I am anything similar to polite lately, then the Earth is flat. If I actually believed in the Earth-being-flat theory, this would have made more sense.

I realise more and more that non-violence comes to pass on its own, the same as violence. There is a self-control effect, but man, sometimes it cannot be found even in traces. When you think that 14 years of meditation brought you somewhere, then you are truly misguided. Every attempt to fit your personality and body in a mould, results in nature smelling it out instantly and saying: No, you don’t! Every attempt in creating an eternal security feel just pulls the carpet under your feet and yells out at you: No. Can. Do!

HOLIDAYS

After four months in the Ashram – holidays! This time I agreed with my sister we would go for more days and not travel too much. We needed the rest.

EPIC JOURNEY: TRAIN

Some of you have heard this story already, so I apologise for repeating myself. Also, if you have no time, please stop here, this blog seems like it will be taking a while. I should start writing the “read time” and keywords, as a combination of a scientific article and an online article. What say you?

So, the epic journey began with buying tickets to the airport. I got the tickets in a way I usually do not, guided by our ever tiny budget: I got us regional train tickets that would make the trip longer, get us there eventually, but for 50% less money. Hm, yes. When you want to get out of something, that is when you get what you deserve. The regional ticket was not only regional, but it can be a day or a night regional ticket. The daily version is valid from 7am to 6pm. We took an early train, at 6.30am, and therefore I got us the night tickets, unknowingly. They were valid for an entirety of 30 minutes. After that a daily regional ticket was valid, one which we did not have. Buying both a daily and night regional ticket would cost us the same as getting a normal inter-city train ticket. Discount, my ass! Yes, it was me, guilty! I got us the wrong ticket. I am a foreigner pretending to know German. Katina told me many a time: Why don’t you use the ticket website in English? I don’t want to! ‘Cos I live in Germany, pretending to know the language well enough. Actually, I do not, obviously. I am just guessing.

When it was after 7am, the ticket man informed us of the invalidity of the ticket we had and offered to charge us an extra two thirds of the already purchased ticket. We said okay. But. We could not pay with our cards on the train, with neither the Croatian nor German one. Why? Because the Universe decided to have fun. We were kindly asked to get off on the next stop, walk 500m in the dark, in the snow, dragging along suitcases, until we got to a cash machine. The machine, along with God’s providence, gave us money we did not have. Yay! We got ourselves some new tickets, that cost more than what the man offered on the train and boarded the next train, thinking we had enough time to catch the flight. No problem.

EPIC JOURNEY: PLANE

We arrived to the airport, went to the check-in, and reached the counter 38 minutes before lift-off. We needed to check in a suitcase (that is yet another long story, how the unwanted suitcase travelled with us, and the same serving us well on the way back, where we stored some nice Croatian goodies). The lady did not check us in, but explained that we needed to go to another counter. In that moment, I naively believed the other counter would be helpful, yet at the same time realising what she had just said, how we could not board the plane.

Considering I was in a bit of a delicate emotional state from all the screaming from the previous night, I started to weep. By the time we had shown our faces on the other counter, I was fully crying. The man had told us none of the two could board any longer, not only because of the suitcase, but the gate was no longer accessible to us. The next flight was 500€ per person, and the one that was leaving the next day, was only 100€ per person. We got the tickets for 35€ to begin with. Moving away from the counter, I just lost it. My thoughts jumping onto what more horrors might be waiting for us now, considering we were travelling on a low budget, considering it was the end of the month, and the paycheck a couple of days away, and as we had all the tickets already bought. Which we no longer had. Just that we don’t have to go back to the Ashram, we are already on holiday after all!

EPIC JOURNEY: BUS

While I kept weeping, Katina got a hold of things and found us a bus that was leaving directly from the airport to Zagreb, in two hours. It did not cost so much. In that moment we failed to get the bus tickets online and went to the bus tickets office. The tickets cost 25% more, and cannot be bought with the only card we still had cash on. We bought the tickets with my card this time, and it went into a minus (?).

OK, so now we have a new ticket. We had time to eat and the time we were already supposed to be landing in the city of Zagreb is just passing by. 12 hours later, we are at our destination. Our cards are maxed out, shaken from the bus and full of dry food we had to buy at the (expensive) airport shop for the rest of a now one-day trip. A truly epic journey. I could say that because of the epicness (I know this is not a word) of the trip and all the challenges we faced, I can kind of assume how Frodo felt while going into Mordor. Let us not assume only the negative, but let us remember a few nice things as well: our cards served us well, even though we were kind of broke, we had a bus going directly from the airport, and everyone was really kind and understanding with us. So were our lovely ladies and hosts, waiting for us in one of our many homes, like Cinderella, coming home at midnight.

ZAGREB CITY

The first week was dedicated to going around with excellent & dear people. The hangouts were inspirational, emotional and full of news. It is nice to be home… I am starting to love Zagreb in a new way. After I have taken advantage of it, then resisted it, to brutally dump it and then tried to ignore it for years. Now all those crappy things are forgotten and only the most valuable items are left in it for me. Almost like an ex, with whom, after a certain time, if both want to, all the crappy feelings are forgotten and only the pure, clear and good ones stay. Each and every meeting was actually really beautiful! Even the one that happened in a hospital, and caught us all off guard, but I think everyone coped quite well.

Sisters, missing 1/Sestre, bez jedne

OUTING

The main reason we went to Zagreb for, at the end of January, is a festival. A (t)rap regional winter festival. This year in an even less smoky club (the club of my former wild youth), we knew what to expect, in terms of noise and craziness. All together it was far less wild than “in my time”: everyone would be brutally wasted already at 6pm, and by 11pm would be on the floor. We had a healthy energy drink, that was more of a joke than an upper. The rest of the evening we had water, like all really boring straight edge girls/ladies/women.

THE HIGHLIGHT

The main mission of this festival was to get a treat for our darling Krešo, who we have known for a million years, cross my heart. The first idea was to throw rose petals at the stage, but the prospect of having to carry the petals into a club and have them there for a couple of hours, I was doubtful if they would stay fresh, and it was not so convenient to be throwing them from below to the stage – would it really have any effect? So there was a change of plan. We’re going to get our boy Krešo a chocolate. Not any chocolate, though. A white bio-chocolate with poppy seeds for him and one for his colleague, with exotic fruits. So, how shall we deliver the chocolate? We were trying to figure something out, and several ideas failed, so we got a little weary.

We decided to take a seat and let everything go for a moment. How it so often happens: enlightenment is a split second away. Katina got her phone out and a scene flashed across, something that Krešo had posted one hour earlier. That same moment, I was looking at her screen feeling we failed. I suddenly realised the location from where the image was taken, abruptly stood up and turned around, just to realise he, Krešo Bengalka, was just there, a few meters away from us. We practically ran towards him, and he waited for us with opened arms: “Let me give you a hug!”. We gifted him the chocolates and said it was late, and left.

That moment you let go, it comes galloping towards you.

Gordana & Katina, in front of the festival poster/Gordana i Katina ispred festivalskog posters

SWEET HOME

Katina and I have many homes. I would call it nomadic farming, where we are the sheep. After Zagreb we went to Rijeka, where our dearest mommy lives for quite some years, even though this is not her original home (and that is a completely different story). Just next to Rijeka, a little further along the coast, you will find Lovran, where our eldest sister lives with her family. A couple of days on the seaside. It was less important that it had rained for a bit, and that it was windy, because those few hours in the sun, sitting on the pier listening to the sea and reading a book, overshadowed everything else. Both Rijeka and Lovran, our second and third homes, took us in for a short and sweet while. The time spent “home” is the sweetest. And our little nephew! Uninterrupted joy…

FINAL EVENING

Coming back, we passed through Zagreb again, shortly, and finished our holidays in a very nice evening spent with people somewhat younger than us, but only a little difference was felt. I thought again how Katina and I have been quite gangsta when we were younger.

Band Zmajari, at Booksa, Zagreb/Bend Zmajari u Booksi, Zagreb

BACK TO REALITY

Coming back home from home, I went to see my doctor, to check if there was any news about a blood test I did just before leaving, ten days ago, as I was previously lying in bed for quite some time. There was news! The news was that my iron is so low that everyone is still wondering how I was still walking, let alone working, travelling and doing yoga.

That is what happens when you meditate. Your iron drops to levels when people are usually hospitalised, but you keep working, travelling and living, with feeling just a bit tired. Except the occasional aggressive-hysterical fits, but all good otherwise.

I’m joking a bit here, as my health was generally not so good lately, and it is clearer now how it escalated with the drop of iron in the blood, in spite of all my, sometimes more and sometimes, efforts to keep my health in a good place.

Quite incredible how everything changes with changing perspective. How very worried I was about my health and how much I had forced myself to exercise more, then getting overly tired, and judging myself for being lazy. I hope to have more strength with my iron levels going up, and feel more energetic, and finally be physically more active, what I have been wishing for so much. Ah, always more, stronger, never satisfied. What to do. It’s just who I am.

FUCK IT, IT’S JUST GORDANA

What is always left in the end: love. Everything begins and ends with love, right? Usually when we fall in love, it is no ordinary infatuation, rather a complete obsession. It is lovely to be in love, but the obsession is so tiresome, the thoughts that do not leave me, and the intensity of the emotions that just gets more intense, is quite difficult to handle. It wears me out completely, in a way I wish I was never in love. Like with some sort of drug, a complete intoxication and craziness. I completely divide myself from me and become a maniac.

As I thought quite a lot about my recent hysterical behaviour, I remembered how people used to call me “hysterical” when I was a kid. There was this guy in our neighbourhood that used to tease me a lot, I hated his guts. He had horse teeth and a terrible voice and he made fun of me restlessly, and I just kept screaming at him. He loved it a lot, he would then annoy me even more, I guess he thought it was fun how easy it was to disturb me.

HYPER-WOMAN

When I think about it now, I think it would be called ADHD or hyperactivity or social inadequacy nowadays. Then I grew a bit older and learned I should not allow myself to be like that, that it was not exactly nice to behave in that way. Then I became even more self-centered through spirituality, and I became proud of my ability to successfully snuff out my “hysterical” nature. What goes around, comes around, so did this. I have a feeling the hysteria never did leave me, but was suppressed. As I have started to feel more free in expression recently, what was suppressed seems to be really wanting to come out.

I often feel like a real lunatic, and wonder about should I be repairing myself and be a better person? I conclude that there is not much to be repaired, and if I do not allow myself to fully be who I am, a few years from now I would be even more of a wreck. I always wish to be a better person, but if I try too hard, I think the naturalness disappears.

I am not denying my behaviour is completely unacceptable at times, in moments and minutes, yet if I extremely and systematically attempt to suffocate myself, it will not be well.

To go back to love. I think the hysteria must be a hormonal imbalance, and that it occurs when I fall in love. I wanted to share with you all that I am much better now. Every time it is a little better. A little calmer, I wait longer and make somewhat less drama. It has been more than two years from my last, obviously unsuccessful, relationship. It seems to have passed quickly. Strange! Me, alone, is it possible? Not that I was not in love for so long, but it was more of the one that drives me insane and makes me tired.

Not much has changed for some time, everything around me seems to be stable, except me, because I’m a crazy one. But a dear kind of crazy, so people can easily put up with me.

Reading a book in the sunshine/Čitanje knjige na sunčeku

Just a little longer and we’re at the end. I hope it was worth it to read five pages of ranting. At the end, two conclusions: When the time has come, then it has come, it is already here and there is no need to wait any longer.

And the second one goes like this: If you push it, my dear, you will not reach anywhere. The only thing you can do is to wait. From time to time you can always come back to those painful points, and see again and again that what you want to look at the most is the most important thing. Only then there is some progress. Everything else is a big fat self-deceit.

I’ve been listening to German music. Amongst others, AnnenMayKanteriet. My ears are on fire. Long live the German language! Long live you guys! And Long live me, good riddance.

P.S. I am preparing some good surprises, are you ready for it?

______________________________________________________________

HRVATSKA VERZIJA TU!

More, Lovran/Seaside, Lovran

6-MJESEČNA KRIZA

U prosjeku svakih šest mjeseci imam egzistencijalnu krizu, kada propitujem sve što radim u smislu lokacije gdje živim, plaće, radne atmosfere i posla, ljubavi, prijateljstava, i u smislu sebe same. Ovaj put je trajalo kraće i bilo je manje drame. Ili?

Nakon malog prosvjetljenja, došlo je crnilo. Sipino crnilo. Sipe su tako lijepe životinje. A crnilo im je moćno, nema šta, u oko!

Najjasnija slika u mom umu je impresija potpunog gubitka svijesti. Usta se otvaraju, izgovaraju riječi. Eh, kada bi riječi bile samo izgovorene, ne, bile su izderane iz dubine duše, parale su grlo. Koliko su parale moje grlo, mora da su kidale njeno srce.

Nevažna je situacija, nevažni su akteri, nevažno je sve, osim dubokog ožiljka. U mom srcu i pretpostavljam u drugom također. Totalno verbalno nasilje. Nisam savladala prvu Yamu, od Yoga Patanjali Sutri: nenasilje. Niti je u meni bilo nenasilje, niti ga je bilo u mojoj prisutnosti. Upravo je bilo obrnuto.

LUDILO OD LUDILA

Ako je ovo cvjetanje, čudno se očituje. Cvjetanje cjelovite ličnosti popločano je crnim opekama. Ima da mi je iz dubine duše izašao crni mrak. Bit' duhovan kao znači bit' fin. Ali ako sam ja u zadnje vrijeme fina, onda je zemlja ravna. Što bi mi išlo u prilog da vjerujem u teoriju zemlje kao ravne ploče.

Sve više shvaćam da se nenasilje događa samo od sebe, kao i nasilje. Postoji neki određeni efekt samokontrole, ali brate nekad ga nema ni trunke. Kad pomisliš da te 14 godina meditiranja dovelo negdje, tad se tek najgadnije prevariš. Svaki pokušaj smještanja svoje ličnosti i tijela u neki kalup, rezultira tako da te posebno tada nanjuši to nešto u prirodi, i kaže: e, nećeš! Svaki pokušaj kreiranja neke vječne uljuljkane sigurnosti, povlači ti tepih ispod nogu i vikne: Ne može!

PRAZNICI

Nakon 4 mjeseca u Ashramu – praznici! Ovaj put sam se sa sestrom dogovorila da ćemo ići na malo duže i da nećemo previše bauljati okolo po Hrvatskoj. Triba se odmorit.

EPSKO PUTOVANJE: VLAK

Neki od vas su već čuli cijelu priču, pa se ispričavam na ponavljanju. Također, ako nemaš vremena, tu se zaustavi, ovaj blog bi mogao potrajati. Trebam početi pisati koliko minuta je potrebno da se pročita tekst, plus ključne riječi, kao kombinacija znanstvenog članka i online članka. Šta kažeš?

Dakle, epsko putovanje je započelo kupnjom karata do aerodroma. Karte sam kupila na inače neuobičajen način, vodeći se vječno malim budžetom: uzela sam regionalne karte koje će nas nekim sporednim vlakovima dovesti na odredište u malo više vremena, ali za 50% manje novaca. Hm, da. Kad se želiš izvući, dobiješ po nosu. Naime, regionalna karta nije samo regionalna, već može biti dnevna ili noćna. Dnevna vrijedi od 7:00 ujutro do 6:00 popodne. Mi smo kretale s vlakom u 6:30 ujutro, te sam ja pametna kupila noćne regionalne karte, koje su nam vrijedile pola sata, od 6:30 do 7:00. Nakon toga je vrijedila dnevna regionalna karta, a kupnja dnevne i noćne regionalne karte koštala bi isto kao da smo kupile normalnu kartu s brzim vlakovima. Kao popust! Jesam, da, kriva sam. Kupila sam krivu kartu. Strankinja sam, pravim se da znam njemački. Katina mi je nemalo puta rekla: Zašto ne staviš website za kupnju karata na engleski? Neću! Jer živim u Njemačkoj i pravim se da znam jezik dovoljno dobro. Zapravo ne znam, očito. Samo nabadam.

Kada je prošlo 7:00 sati, kondukter nas je obavijestio o kupnji krive karte, i zamolio nas da nadoplatimo u visini od 2/3 karte već kupljene karte. Rekle smo: okej, šta sad. Međutim, u vlaku nismo mogle platiti svojom karticom, ni njemačkom ni hrvatskom. Zašto? Jer se Svemir odlučio zabaviti. Zamoljene smo bile izaći na sljedećoj stanici, otklipsati 500m po snijegu i mraku (s koferima!) do prvog bankomata. Gdje smo, uz božju providnost, dignule novce s kartice na kojoj nemamo novaca. Jupi! Kupile nove karte, koje su bile još skuplje od nadoplate u vlaku i sjele na idući vlak, misleći kako imamo dovoljno vremena do aviona. Nije problem.

EPSKO PUTOVANJE: AVION

Stigle na aerodrom, otišle na check-in, i došle na šalter 38 minuta prije polaska aviona. Morale smo čekirati kofer (to je sasvim jedna druga priča, kako je taj neželjeni kofer putovao s nama, a isti kasnije poslužio da donesemo u Njemačku hrvatske poslastice). Teta nam nije čekirala kofer, nego nas je uputila na neki drugi šalter. Ja sam u tom trenutku naivno pomislila kako će nam primiti neželjeni kofer na drugom šalteru. Na putu do tog drugog šaltera mi se izvrtilo u glavi sve što je žena rekla, i shvatila sam da je zapravo rekla da ne možemo na avion.

S obzirom da sam bila u poprilično delikatnom stanju od sinoćnje deračine koju sam priuštila nekolicini najbliskijih, počela sam plakati. Dok smo bili na drugom šalteru, plakala sam kao kišna godina. Čovjek nam je rekao da ne možemo na avion, i da više ni jedna od nas ne stigne, jer nije samo do kofera, ne može nas više pustiti na gate. Sljedeći avion koštao je 500€ po osobi, ili onaj drugi sutradan, samo 100€ po osobi. Karte smo originalno kupile za 35€. Odmaknule smo se od šaltera, bila sam oduzeta. Misli su mi mahnito išle u smjerovima drugih užasa koji nas sada čekaju, a hvala bogu, putujemo bez previše para, jer je plaća za koji dan, i zato jer imamo karte u džepu. Koje sada više nemamo. Samo da se ne moramo vratiti u Ashram, ipak smo već na praznicima!

EPSKO PUTOVANJE: BUS

Dok sam ja slinila, Katina se sabrala i našla nam autobus koji ide ravno s aerodroma do Zagreba, kreće za 2 sata. I ne košta abnormalno puno. U tom trenutku nam ne uspijeva kupiti karte online, pa idemo do šaltera za buseve. Karta košta 25% više, i naravno da se ne može kupiti karticom na kojoj jedinoj imamo još novaca (pitanje da li dovoljno u ovom trenutku?). Kupujemo kartu mojom karticom koja iz i dalje nepoznatih razloga odlazi u minus.

Okej, imamo novu kartu. Imamo vremena za jelo i upravo prolazi vrijeme kada smo već trebale sretno sletjeti u Bijeli Zagreb Grad. Na odredištu smo samo 12 sati kasnije. Kartice u minusima, izljuljane od busa, najedene suhe hrane koju smo neplanirano morale kupovati na aerodromu. Stvarno epsko putovanje. Mogu reći da se zbog osjećaja vječnog putovanja i prepreka mogu reći da mogu pretpostaviti kako se osjećao Frodo dok je klipsao prema Mordoru.

Nemojmo pretpostaviti samo negativno, nego se sjetimo i par lijepih stvari: kartice su nam radile, iako nismo imale novaca, busa je bilo direktno s aerodroma, i svi su zapravo bili ljubazni i strpljivi. I naše domaćinke, u još jednom od naših domova, su nas dočekale kao pepeljugu u ponoć.

ZEGE

Prvi tjedan je bio posvećen bauljanju i druženju s odličnim i dragim ljudima. Susreti su bili mahom inspirativni, emotivni i puni novosti. Lijepo je doći kući… Opet počinjem voljeti Zagreb na neki nov način, nakon što sam ga iskorištavala, zatim bila prema njemu u otporu, zatim ga brutalno ostavila i trudila se ignorirati godinama. Sada je sve ono šugavo zaboravljeno, i ostale su samo najvrijednije stvari. Poput bivšeg partnera s kojim se nakon nekog određenog vremena, ako to oboje želite, zaborave sve šugave emocije i ostanu samo one čiste, jasne i dobre. Svaki susret je u stvari bio prelijep! Čak i onaj u bolnici, koji nas je sve uhvatio nespremne, ali mislim da smo se svi dobro snašli.

PROVOD

I da, naravno, praktički prvi razlog zbog kojeg smo i otišle u Zagreb krajem siječnja, je festival. (T)rap regionalni zimski festival. Ove godine u još manje zadimljenom klubu (inače klubu moje raskalašene mladosti), već pripremljene na što nas čeka u obliku buke, ludila. Sve skupa puno blaže nego „u naše doba“, kad su svi bili brutalno i vidno zgaženi već u 6 popodne, a do 11 već padali po podu. Popile smo neki zdravi energy drink, koji je zapravo bio više kao neka šala, nisam primjetila da je nešto posebno djelovao. Ostatak vremena smo pile vodu, kao prave dosadne straighterice.

HIGHLIGHT (REFLEKTOR JE PAO NA…)

Najvažniji zadatak ovog festivala je bio počastiti našeg dragog Krešu, s kojim se znamo sto miljona godina, majkemi. Prvobitni plan je bio bacati ružine latice na pozornicu, ali u vrućem klubu nije baš djelovalo da će cvijeće izdržati, i nije bilo sigurno kako će te latice letjeti odozdola, iz publike, njemu gore na pozornicu. Zato smo promijenile plan. Kupit ćemo mi našem Kreši čokoladu. E, ali ne bilo kakvu čokoladu. Bijelu bio-čokoladu s makom, a njegovom kolegi s egzotičnim voćem. I? Kako da dostavimo čoksu? Petljale smo ovamo i onamo, pokušavale se nekako domisliti kako da mu damo poklon, i na kraju se smorile.

Odlučile smo sjesti i pustiti na tren sve kvragu, i kako to obično biva: sekunda je do prosvjetljenja. Katina je upalila mobitel, na njemu je izašao kadar kojeg je Krešo snimio sat vremena ranije, i tog trena, gledajući u njen mobitel, već razočarano kako nam plan nije uspio, shvatila sam iz kojeg kuta je snimka uhvaćena, digla se kao furija, okrenula se, et voilà: Krešo Bengalka par metara iza nas. Maltene smo potrčale prema njemu, a on nas otvorenih ruku dočekao: „Da vas zagrlim!“. Poklonile smo mu čoksicu, rekle da nam je kasno i lijepo se pozdravile.

Tog trena kad pustiš, dođe ti u skokovima.

DOME SLATKI

Katina i ja imamo mnogo domova. Ja bih to nazvala nomadskim stočarenjem, u kojem smo mi ovce. Nakon Zagreba smo se zaputile u Rijeku, gdje nam živi najdraža mamica, već dugi niz godina, iako nije iz Rijeke (to je sasvim opet neka druga priča). Odmah do Rijeke, malo dalje po obali i eto ga: Lovran, gdje nam živi najstarija seka sa svojom obitelji. Par dana uz more. I nije bilo važno što je kiša padala, i vjetar puhao, jer onih par sati na suncu, sjedeći na mulu, uz more, čitajući knjigu, je zasjenilo sve drugo. I Rijeka i Lovran, naši svojevrsni drugi, treći domovi, ugostili su nas kratko i slatko. Vrijeme provedeno 'doma' je najslađe. I mali nećak! Neprestano veselje…

Pogled na Rijeku/Rijeka city view

ZADNJA VEČER

Na povratku smo prošle kroz Zagreb i završile praznike u baš ugodnoj večeri s malo mlađima od sebe, ali skoro da i nije bilo razlike. Opet sam razmišljala o tome kako smo Katina i ja baš bile mnogo gangsta kao mlade.

POVRATAK U STVARNOST

Po povratku sam se zaletjela do doktorice da vidim ima li kakvih vijesti vezanih uz nalaz krvi, jer sam prije praznika ležala u krevetu par tjedana. I bilo je vijesti! Vijesti su da mi je željezo u krvi toliko nisko, da se svi još uvijek pitaju kako to da još hodam, a kamoli da radim, putujem i vježbam yogu.

Tako ti je to kad meditiraš. Željezo ti je na razini kad su ljudi obično spremni za hospitalizaciju, ali neka, ti radiš, putuješ, živiš, i kao malo si umorna. Osim što povremeno imaš agresivno-histerične napade, ali sve je to okej.

Malo se šalim, nije baš sasvim tako. Zdravlje mi općenito nije baš bilo na nekoj zavidnoj razini u zadnje vrijeme, i sad mi je jasno kako je to sve eskaliralo padom željeza, unatoč mom nekad većem, nekad manjem trudu da se tijelo sredi.

Nevjerojatno kako se sve mijenja s promjenom perspektive. Koliko sam samo bila zabrinuta za zdravlje, koliko sam se forsirala da više vježbam, pa bila umorna, pa se grizla što sam lijena. Čudo koliko energije imam s obzirom na to zdravstveno stanje. Nadam se da ću kad mi se željezo malo podigne, osjećati još više energije, i napokon početi fizički biti onoliko aktivna koliko već duže vremena želim. Eh, uvijek više, jače, bolje, nikad zadovoljna. A šta ćeš. Taka sam ti.

PA TO JE, JEBI GA, GORDANA

I za kraj, ljubav. Sve počinje i završava s ljubavlju, zar ne? Obično kad se zaljubim, to nije obična zaljubljenost, već potpuna opsjednutost. Lijepo je biti zaljubljen, ali opsesivnost koja me obuzme, misli koje ne prestaju šibati i intenzitet emocija koji ne jenjava, je strašno. Izrazito iscrpljujuće, toliko da poželim da se nikad nisam zaljubila. Poput kakve droge, potpuna opijenost i ludilo. Potpuno se odvojim od sebe i postajem manijak. Kako sam dosta razmišljala o svojim nedavnim histeričnim napadima, sjetila sam se kako su me kao malu uvijek nazivali „histeričnom“. Imala sam tog lika u kvartu koji me konstantno zezao, mrzila sam ga. Imao je konjske zube i grozan glas, stalno mi se rugao, a ja sam samo vrištala na njega. To mu je bilo posebno milo, onda bi me izluđivao još više, valjda mu je to bilo zabavno koliko me lako bilo potpuno izbaciti iz takta.

HIPER-ŽENA

Sad kad razmišljam, danas bi se takvo ponašanje zvalo ADHD ili hiperaktivnost ili socijalna osjetljivost ili šta ja znam više kako se to sve zove danas. Onda sam malo porasla, pa sam naučila da se to ne smije baš tako i da nije lijepo. Onda sam se još malo napuhala kroz duhovnost, i bila ponosna na svoje uspješno zatomljivanje svoje „histerične“ prirode. Sve se vraća, sve se plaća, pa tako i to. Imam osjećaj da ta histerija nikada nije nestalo, nego je bila potisnuta, a kako se u zadnje vrijeme osjećam nekako sve slobodnije u izričaju, sve to što je bilo potisnuto odjednom je navalilo da izađe. Tako se često osjećam kao još veći luđak, i pitam se trebam li se popraviti i biti bolja osoba? Zaključujem da se nema što popraviti, i da ako si ne dopustim da budem ono što jesam, za par godina ću biti u istom sosu kao i sada. Uvijek želim biti bolja osoba, ali ako se previše trudim, mislim da prirodnost nestaje.

Ne niječem da mi je ponašanje neprihvatljivo na trenutke, i minute, ali ako budem ekstremno i sistematski pokušavala samu sebe ugušiti, neće biti dobro.

Da se vratimo na ljubav, mislim da je ta histerija neki hormonalni poremećaj, i da se takva ista pojavljuje kad se zaljubim. Htjela sam s vama podijeliti kako sam puno bolja sada! Svaki put sve bolja. Smirenija, čekam i ne dramim. Prošlo je više od dvije godine od moje posljednje, očito neuspjele, veze, i čini mi se da je brzo prošlo. Čudno! Ja sama, jel' to moguće? Nije da mi je falilo zaljubljenosti, ali više je bilo one umarajuće, pa ni nije bilo toliko fino.

I ništa se nije promijenilo već neko vrijeme, sve je stabilno u mom okruženju, osim mene, jer sam ja jedna luda. Ali draga luda, pa me se lako podnosi.

Još sam malo i pri kraju smo. Valjda je vrijedilo čitati pet strana trabunjanja. Za kraj dva zaključka: Kad dođe vrijeme, onda je došlo, onda je već tu i ne mora ga se više čekati. I drugi je genijalan, samo tren, evo, samo što nije…

Drugi ide ovako: Ako guraš, brate, nema nigdje. Jedino što možeš je čekati. I s vremena na vrijeme se uvijek vraćati na one najbolnije točke, uvidjeti ponovno i ponovno da je ono što najmanje želiš pogledati, najvažnije. Jedino tada ima pomaka. Sve drugo je debelo, masno samozavaravanje.

Slušam njemačku glazbu, pogotovo AnnenMayKanteriet. Izgoriše mi uši od njih. Živio njemački! Živili Vi! Živila i ja, sretno mi bilo.

P.S. Spremam baš dobra iznenađenja, jesi li ready?

Letenje iznad Schwarzwalda/Flying above Schwarzwald

#personal blog #gordana tihomirovic #drama queen

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