Alex's funeral was kept about two weeks after his death. It took so long time because of the post mortem. We drove together with my aunt to my parents' place. I still remember to this day, that when we started to drive and switched on the radio "Don't Speak" by No Doubt was playing. Every time when I hear that song, still takes me back to that day.
The moment when I saw my parents was heartbreaking. First of all, they looked that they have aged 10 years in a month, they seemed so small and so fragile. I ran to my mothers arms and we were just helplessly crying on each others arms. My father was very serious, but quiet. I had talked with him on the phone the other day, he had been crying then. He was also telling me that there is no reason for him to live anymore. I almost shouted at him "What about me?! Am I not a good reason?" He did not answer, but calmed down. I assured him, that I need him and he has to stay alive for me.
In the morning of the funeral I felt really sick in my stomach, there was a point that I thought I won't make it to the chapel. I remember that just before we left from home, my dad gave my mom and me sedatives, which would make it easier to handle our emotions in the funeral. Lately, I have wondered if this was really wise thing to do - would I have had clearer memories of the service if I hadn't taken any drugs?
The chapel was full of people, old and young, relatives and friends and almost everyone was crying throughout the ceremony. I don't recall much what the priest said, however there is one sentence I remember. He said something like "The devil won't get you!" He sounded almost like an exorcist, which made me feel scared. I was crying, I felt so cold and was my body was literally shaking so badly that it was difficult for me to sit on the wooden chapel bench. I was sitting between my mother and Peter and they both were trying to hold me still.
In my country, there is a tradition that the funeral guests bring flowers to the casket and say a little poem/quote which is somehow matching to the person who passed away or/and the circumstances. Somehow I managed to get myself together for that moment when it was my turn to bring my flowers ( a huge bouquet of long stemmed dark red roses) and say my poem which went something like this " Fall asleep for the scent of flowers, fall asleep for the sound of birds, fall asleep for the teenage dreams, fall asleep for the spring aspirations." I was sobbing, but I managed to do it anyhow. I also added in the end " I will always miss you Alex" and touched the casket softly. It was devastating to see my parents, my grandparents and Alex's friends to walk to the casket and say their verses. So much crying, so many tears.
When the ceremony was finally over in the chapel, we went outside to bury Alex. My father, my grandfather, uncle, and three Alex's friends were carrying the casket. It was a a beautiful, sunny spring day. The sun was shining, but there was still a lot of snow left however. The scene was exactly the same as I had seen in my nightmares earlier. It was so hard to see them carrying him and finally burying him. When the casket was in the grave I threw one more red rose on his casket and whispered "Bye, bye Alex. I love you."
There was a memorial directly after Alex's funeral, but I don't have any memories of that. I can not remember a single thing or word what was said there. I heard later on that Alex's best friends had driven (illegally) after the memorial to his grave and played were loudly his favorite song for him one more time. I thought that was a very sweet thing to do.
Friday, November 13, 2015
Saturday, November 7, 2015
Questions And What Ifs
The days after Alex's death went in haze.I was crying all the time and was waiting for the night to come that I could go to sleep and escape the reality. The nights were my savior. The mornings were my enemy.
There were so many questions and what ifs left.
Was it really a suicide or was it an accident? Like I told in my previous post Alex had told his "girlfriend" that the gun was not loaded. Did he lie to her or did he forget that he had loaded the gun? According to the police's investigation it was a suicide. They found out in Alex's postmortem that he had been drunk, but not under any drugs. They also found out that there was something wrong with his lungs, maybe early stages of lung cancer.
Would Alex still be alive if his friends would not have called him and asked him to come back to the party? Or was he planning to do it anyway, maybe at home? Or what would have happened, if those friends he had tried to call would have been at home?
If Alex was suicidal why he had wanted to stop smoking? Why did he have a haircut? Why was he so excited about his summer job? If he had wanted to die, would he really had energy and interest to all those things?
Did Alex get his idea about a suicide from me? I was the one who was talking with him about suicide and telling him that he should not ever do anything to himself. Did I plant these thoughts to his mind as some kind of option for escaping his troubles? I've also been questioning if I had been even closer with him, maybe he had opened up more with me about things that were bothering him. Maybe I could have helped him to deal with his feelings. Additionally, I blamed myself that I did not protect him better from my father's negative behavior.
Did Alex really have an intention to kill his friend(s)? Or did he take his gun just to show off and threaten them? Alex had never been violent person, the opposite. Did he panic when he heard that the police were coming and due that the only way out was to kill himself? Did he realize that in what kind of trouble he had been if the police caught him?
Was Alex in some kind of psychosis? His friends had told the police that he sounded different and did not even look like himself? Had he lost his mind that night?
The hardest question for me however was that would Alex still be alive if he had a more understanding and supporting father? And I must admit, that for years and years I was convinced that this was the case. I blamed my father for everything that happened. I never said it to him face to face, because I knew it would kill him to hear that. But in a way I think he knew what I thought. And I think he blamed himself as well. There was one incident which actually proves that. Couple of years after Alex's death my father was insisting that I should start to drive a car again (I had had a minor accident and after that I was afraid to drive). I told him, that I won't drive, because I'm scared that something will happen. I also added that how would he feel that I start to drive because he asked me and then I would got in a serious accident? His answer was breathtaking: "Are you saying that ALSO your death would be my fault?". I was speechless and we never talked about it anymore.
All these questions, what ifs and blames where haunting me for years and years. The last matter about my father was haunting me over 10 years. All my family was however sure about one thing. If somebody had to die in that night, it had to be Alex. It's an awful thing to say, but still it's better that he took his own life than no-one's else's.
There were so many questions and what ifs left.
Was it really a suicide or was it an accident? Like I told in my previous post Alex had told his "girlfriend" that the gun was not loaded. Did he lie to her or did he forget that he had loaded the gun? According to the police's investigation it was a suicide. They found out in Alex's postmortem that he had been drunk, but not under any drugs. They also found out that there was something wrong with his lungs, maybe early stages of lung cancer.
Would Alex still be alive if his friends would not have called him and asked him to come back to the party? Or was he planning to do it anyway, maybe at home? Or what would have happened, if those friends he had tried to call would have been at home?
If Alex was suicidal why he had wanted to stop smoking? Why did he have a haircut? Why was he so excited about his summer job? If he had wanted to die, would he really had energy and interest to all those things?
Did Alex get his idea about a suicide from me? I was the one who was talking with him about suicide and telling him that he should not ever do anything to himself. Did I plant these thoughts to his mind as some kind of option for escaping his troubles? I've also been questioning if I had been even closer with him, maybe he had opened up more with me about things that were bothering him. Maybe I could have helped him to deal with his feelings. Additionally, I blamed myself that I did not protect him better from my father's negative behavior.
Did Alex really have an intention to kill his friend(s)? Or did he take his gun just to show off and threaten them? Alex had never been violent person, the opposite. Did he panic when he heard that the police were coming and due that the only way out was to kill himself? Did he realize that in what kind of trouble he had been if the police caught him?
Was Alex in some kind of psychosis? His friends had told the police that he sounded different and did not even look like himself? Had he lost his mind that night?
The hardest question for me however was that would Alex still be alive if he had a more understanding and supporting father? And I must admit, that for years and years I was convinced that this was the case. I blamed my father for everything that happened. I never said it to him face to face, because I knew it would kill him to hear that. But in a way I think he knew what I thought. And I think he blamed himself as well. There was one incident which actually proves that. Couple of years after Alex's death my father was insisting that I should start to drive a car again (I had had a minor accident and after that I was afraid to drive). I told him, that I won't drive, because I'm scared that something will happen. I also added that how would he feel that I start to drive because he asked me and then I would got in a serious accident? His answer was breathtaking: "Are you saying that ALSO your death would be my fault?". I was speechless and we never talked about it anymore.
All these questions, what ifs and blames where haunting me for years and years. The last matter about my father was haunting me over 10 years. All my family was however sure about one thing. If somebody had to die in that night, it had to be Alex. It's an awful thing to say, but still it's better that he took his own life than no-one's else's.
Sunday, October 25, 2015
The Night That Alex Died
This post is very hard to write for two reasons: 1) It's so painful to go through those awful things that happened 2) I wasn't there, so everything I write here is based on what I have heard from my parents.
It was a sunny spring Friday, couple of weeks after Easter. Alex had been to school normally that day and his day had went fine. He had actually visited school nurse, 'cause he wanted to quit smoking. He had been hiding his smoking from us, but the school nurse had told this to the police after Alex's death. Additionally, she had told them that he had been fine and in a good mood that morning. Alex also had been to barber after his school day. Earlier that week Alex had been very happy, since he had got a great summer job, which he was really looking forward to start on June. There were no signs what was coming.
In the evening Alex went to a party, which was in one of his best friend's place. Most of his friends and a girl he had been dating for couple of weeks were there. My mother was at home, my dad was working. Around 9.30 p.m. Alex had come back home, he had been very quiet and went directly to his room. Around 11 p.m. phone rang and Alex answered (he had a phone in his room). Soon after the phone call, he told my mom, who was watching tv in our living room, that he'll drop by to that party still, but will come back home soon.
Around 11.30 my mother got a phone call, where one of Alex's friend was telling her that she has to come there, 'cause Alex is there and pointing his friends with his gun! Somehow Alex had managed to bring his gun (he had a gun because he loved to hunt) out of our home without our mother noticing that. Mom started to run there as fast as she could (Alex's friends place was only about 300 m from our home). She was almost there when she heard a gun shot. When she got there she found Alex laying down on the ground, the left side of his head was gone, but he was still breathing. My mother took his hand, and he took his last breaths when my mother was telling him "Mommy is here. Mommy is here." Then he was gone. At the same time the police and ambulance came, as well as my dad, who had heard from his police friends what was going on. My father had been trying to do something to save him and the police had had to drag him away from Alex. There was blood and pieces of his head everywhere, girls were screaming and everyone were in a huge shock.
Police made a large investigation of that night and according to them this had happened. Alex had overheard that one of his friends had been trying to hit on that girl that he was dating, which had made him very upset. At that moment he had went back at home. He had tried to call some of his other friends from home, hut he did not reach them. Then his friend from that party had called him and asked him to come back to that party and he did. When Alex showed up there, he had his gun with him. He started to point his friends with his gun. His friends had to the police that Alex was like a total different person then, even his face had looked different and his voice sounded strange. The girl he was dating had run to him and tried to talk him out of it and she had been begging him to give the gun for her. Alex had whispered her: "Don't be scared it's not loaded." He still kept pointing his friends with the gun and threatening them to shoot them. His friend had told him that he doesn't think Alex could do that and that the police are on their way. Alex had answered him: "You think so?" and then suddenly pointed his gun to his head and shot himself.
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Nightmares Come True
I woke up to some disturbing sound. Couldn't figure out straight away what it was. Then I realized it was my phone ringing. Checked the time and saw it was 7 a.m.. Who would call me that time on Saturday morning? Has something happened to my old grandmother, was my first thought. When answering the phone (I saw it that it was my mother) I knew that something bad has happened, she would not call me at this time otherwise. My heart started beating fast and my hands became sweaty.
My mother's voice sounded like it came from somewhere really far away. She could hardly talk. She was blubbering: "Something terrible has happened, something terrible has happened!"I was almost shouting at her: "What is going on mom?! What has happened??". Finally she blurted it out: "Alex, has died, Alex has died!". I fell on my knees and shouted "NO!" so loudly that probably the whole building could hear it. I felt dizzy and nauseous and laid down on a cold stone floor. I started to repeat "This is not happening, this is not happening. You are lying. It can not be true!" My mom was just crying in the other end. Then I asked what happened? Suddenly she could talk very calmly and she said on a quiet voice "He shot himself.". Till this part I remember very clearly what was said in the phone call. After that moment I have no memories left.
Next moment I remember is that I was shouting at Peter (I was at his student flat then) "Alex is dead, Alex is dead!" The morning went on like that. I was crying and screaming the same mantra Alex has died, Alex has died! He was trying to hold me, and calm me down.
Couple of hours later my aunt, who lived about 200 km away came to pick us up with her boyfriend. Only thing I recall from that 3 h drive that my aunt (mom's sister) and me were sitting in the back seat of the car, holding each others and crying.
My mother's voice sounded like it came from somewhere really far away. She could hardly talk. She was blubbering: "Something terrible has happened, something terrible has happened!"I was almost shouting at her: "What is going on mom?! What has happened??". Finally she blurted it out: "Alex, has died, Alex has died!". I fell on my knees and shouted "NO!" so loudly that probably the whole building could hear it. I felt dizzy and nauseous and laid down on a cold stone floor. I started to repeat "This is not happening, this is not happening. You are lying. It can not be true!" My mom was just crying in the other end. Then I asked what happened? Suddenly she could talk very calmly and she said on a quiet voice "He shot himself.". Till this part I remember very clearly what was said in the phone call. After that moment I have no memories left.
Next moment I remember is that I was shouting at Peter (I was at his student flat then) "Alex is dead, Alex is dead!" The morning went on like that. I was crying and screaming the same mantra Alex has died, Alex has died! He was trying to hold me, and calm me down.
Couple of hours later my aunt, who lived about 200 km away came to pick us up with her boyfriend. Only thing I recall from that 3 h drive that my aunt (mom's sister) and me were sitting in the back seat of the car, holding each others and crying.
Sunday, October 11, 2015
Last Easter
I went home for my Easter break and was happy see my family again, especially Alex whom I had been so worried about for a long time. I was relieved to see that everything was fine with him, he was the same happy boy that he had always been. For some reason my fears however still didn't vanish.
During that time I was at home we had several long conversations and in one of them I asked him if he was ok (there had been another incident with my father and him, after he had came home drunk after a party). He reassured that everything is fine. I even went so far that I told him how much I care about him and that he can not never, ever do anything bad to himself. I still remember the surprised and interrogative gaze in his eyes when he started to laugh and answered "You don't ever need to worry about that. I will do nothing to myself" I was so relived of his answer and still told him, that I will always love him and be there for him, if he needs me. He just nodded and smiled.
There is something really strange that kept happening during that Easter. (And I know this sounds very crazy!) Many times when I was watching tv (alone) in our living room I saw from the corner of my eye a very tall, black, transparent shadow going through our hallway and entering to Alex's room. If I try to describe it in more detail, it was about 2m tall and it had some kind of hooded cape. It went by so fast, that when I noticed it, it was gone. Every time I saw it Alex was not at home. It felt creepy, but I thought it was just my imagination and put it away from my mind and continued to watch tv. During my last day, we went to visit my grandparents (my parents and I) and for some reason (I don't remember anymore why) I mentioned about this shadow. To all my surprise my parents confessed that they have witnessed the same thing happening! And believe me, my parents are the most rational people I know, they don't believe in any supernatural. We decided then and there, that we won't mention about this to Alex, so that he wouldn't get scared. And we never did.
My plane left the next day very early in the morning. Alex was still asleep when I was leaving. I went to his bedroom, saw him peacefully sleeping in his bed. I still remember the exact image of that moment. His head on the pillow and his hand under his cheek. His top body was naked and his blanket was covering his lower body, except his feet which were bare. I looked at him and whispered softly Bye Alex. And to my surprised he opened his eyes a little and said "Bye" and smiled a little. Those were the last words from Alex that I could ever hear. That was the last time I saw him.
During that time I was at home we had several long conversations and in one of them I asked him if he was ok (there had been another incident with my father and him, after he had came home drunk after a party). He reassured that everything is fine. I even went so far that I told him how much I care about him and that he can not never, ever do anything bad to himself. I still remember the surprised and interrogative gaze in his eyes when he started to laugh and answered "You don't ever need to worry about that. I will do nothing to myself" I was so relived of his answer and still told him, that I will always love him and be there for him, if he needs me. He just nodded and smiled.
There is something really strange that kept happening during that Easter. (And I know this sounds very crazy!) Many times when I was watching tv (alone) in our living room I saw from the corner of my eye a very tall, black, transparent shadow going through our hallway and entering to Alex's room. If I try to describe it in more detail, it was about 2m tall and it had some kind of hooded cape. It went by so fast, that when I noticed it, it was gone. Every time I saw it Alex was not at home. It felt creepy, but I thought it was just my imagination and put it away from my mind and continued to watch tv. During my last day, we went to visit my grandparents (my parents and I) and for some reason (I don't remember anymore why) I mentioned about this shadow. To all my surprise my parents confessed that they have witnessed the same thing happening! And believe me, my parents are the most rational people I know, they don't believe in any supernatural. We decided then and there, that we won't mention about this to Alex, so that he wouldn't get scared. And we never did.
My plane left the next day very early in the morning. Alex was still asleep when I was leaving. I went to his bedroom, saw him peacefully sleeping in his bed. I still remember the exact image of that moment. His head on the pillow and his hand under his cheek. His top body was naked and his blanket was covering his lower body, except his feet which were bare. I looked at him and whispered softly Bye Alex. And to my surprised he opened his eyes a little and said "Bye" and smiled a little. Those were the last words from Alex that I could ever hear. That was the last time I saw him.
About This Blog. Little Change of Direction
When I started to write this blog, I didn't really know where it was going and what I was going to write, where to concentrate. Now that I've been writing several posts, I know exactly what I need to write about. I need to write about Alex, what happened to him and more importantly how it made me feel. There are probably still after all these years many unprocessed feelings, thoughts and memories I have not let myself to remember or say aloud. I try to be true to myself and dare to let myself to go thorough it one more time.
One might wonder why I do this publicly? I hope that maybe someone, who is going through the same what I went through could find some comfort and feeling that they are not alone. Unfortunately, there are many of us out here.
One might wonder why I do this publicly? I hope that maybe someone, who is going through the same what I went through could find some comfort and feeling that they are not alone. Unfortunately, there are many of us out here.
Friday, October 9, 2015
Worry Grows
The following year went went very peacefully. at least from the surface. I started to get used to live without Peter a bit better and begun to take more part to some social events and made new friends at university. Peter and I stayed very close however, we called a lot, he came to visit me during his spring break and I moved to his country for my summer break. And after the summer came great news, Peter would move to my home country and continue his studies there! I was the happiest girl in the world after getting those news.
Something had changed between Alex and I after he was sick. We became closer then we were before. And I started for some reason, which I still don't know, be also worried about him. There was not a real reason for that. His life seemed to go fine, he had lots of friends, girlfriend(s), went to school regularly and he seemed to enjoy his life. The "battle" between him and my father however went on. They were so different personalities: My father had pretty much always got his way through with everyone - but not with him. My mother told me many years later that sometimes their fights were so bad (on occasions when Alex had got home drunk from a party) that my mother had to go between them so that my father wouldn't hurt him physically.
I don't remember exactly when my nightmares started, but anyway sometime during my second year at university I started to have similar nightmares regularly which had two themes. In one of them there were 6 men in black suits carrying a white casket in a beautiful winter scene. In the other dream I went to our garage and found Alex hanging from the roof. I was horrified of those dreams and shared them with Peter and with my best friend. Later on, my grandmother told me that she had regular nightmare around the same time as well. In her dream she saw a young man from behind, but half of his head was missing.
I'm still thinking were there any real signs or reasons that would explain my worries and my nightmares. Alex never complained about his life, and always when I asked how he is doing he said is doing great. I knew that my father was way too strict and demanding with him - maybe I was worried what that would do to him? I knew that even though Alex was not living his life through my father's expectations and didn't seem to give damn about them, probably inside he was hurting and felt like a failure in his eyes? Oh, how I wish I would have told him more often how special and dear he was.
Something had changed between Alex and I after he was sick. We became closer then we were before. And I started for some reason, which I still don't know, be also worried about him. There was not a real reason for that. His life seemed to go fine, he had lots of friends, girlfriend(s), went to school regularly and he seemed to enjoy his life. The "battle" between him and my father however went on. They were so different personalities: My father had pretty much always got his way through with everyone - but not with him. My mother told me many years later that sometimes their fights were so bad (on occasions when Alex had got home drunk from a party) that my mother had to go between them so that my father wouldn't hurt him physically.
I don't remember exactly when my nightmares started, but anyway sometime during my second year at university I started to have similar nightmares regularly which had two themes. In one of them there were 6 men in black suits carrying a white casket in a beautiful winter scene. In the other dream I went to our garage and found Alex hanging from the roof. I was horrified of those dreams and shared them with Peter and with my best friend. Later on, my grandmother told me that she had regular nightmare around the same time as well. In her dream she saw a young man from behind, but half of his head was missing.
I'm still thinking were there any real signs or reasons that would explain my worries and my nightmares. Alex never complained about his life, and always when I asked how he is doing he said is doing great. I knew that my father was way too strict and demanding with him - maybe I was worried what that would do to him? I knew that even though Alex was not living his life through my father's expectations and didn't seem to give damn about them, probably inside he was hurting and felt like a failure in his eyes? Oh, how I wish I would have told him more often how special and dear he was.
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Spending My Time Watching the Days Go By
When autumn came, I moved away from home and started my studies. I was happy to get a place for myself, and a way from those small circles. My university city was about 10h drive from my parents' place. That was actually the only positive thing I can remember from that autumn. I put all my energy to my studies, but totally shut myself away from the social events that the other students had (partying, get togethers, etc). I was just studying and the rest of the time I was at my student flat either writing letters to Peter, looking at our pictures, or just daydreaming about him. I did not have appetite, I lost 6 kg in couple of months (and I wasn't that big to start with), I had mild fever for months (I went to doctor, no reason was found), I was literally sick from missing him so much. I was hanging in there just for that reason that at Christmas we had agreed to meet again, I would travel to meet Peter.
Finally Christmas came. I had three weeks off from uni and I had promised my parents to spend the first week with them and the two last weeks with Peter. When I got home, I found out that Alex had been sick for days, he had been having a high fever. Since the fever didn't reduce and he became weaker and weaker my dad wanted to take him to hospital and to have him examined thoroughly. They found out that he had high infection levels in blood and he was diagnosed pneumonia. That was the first time when the thought that we might be losing him came to my mind. He seemed so fragile and pale in that hospital bed and receiving iv antibiotics. He was a shadow of himself compared to those pictures my mother had sent me couple of months earlier. (Alex had been offered some modeling jobs and his photos had been published in local newspapers, which my mother proudly sent me as well.)
I was feeling a bit uncertain, if I should leave now when Alex wasn't still 100%, but my dad assured that he will be fine. And so I packed my suitcase and flew to Peter's arms. For some reason, I couldn't get a rid of being worried about Alex during my whole trip. I even sent him postcards to hospital (which he actually never got, 'cause he had been released to go home before the postcards arrived). But Alex got better and was back to normal in couple of weeks. And we all thought how lucky we were, that it wasn't anything more dangerous and now we could continue our lives like before. ..
Finally Christmas came. I had three weeks off from uni and I had promised my parents to spend the first week with them and the two last weeks with Peter. When I got home, I found out that Alex had been sick for days, he had been having a high fever. Since the fever didn't reduce and he became weaker and weaker my dad wanted to take him to hospital and to have him examined thoroughly. They found out that he had high infection levels in blood and he was diagnosed pneumonia. That was the first time when the thought that we might be losing him came to my mind. He seemed so fragile and pale in that hospital bed and receiving iv antibiotics. He was a shadow of himself compared to those pictures my mother had sent me couple of months earlier. (Alex had been offered some modeling jobs and his photos had been published in local newspapers, which my mother proudly sent me as well.)
I was feeling a bit uncertain, if I should leave now when Alex wasn't still 100%, but my dad assured that he will be fine. And so I packed my suitcase and flew to Peter's arms. For some reason, I couldn't get a rid of being worried about Alex during my whole trip. I even sent him postcards to hospital (which he actually never got, 'cause he had been released to go home before the postcards arrived). But Alex got better and was back to normal in couple of weeks. And we all thought how lucky we were, that it wasn't anything more dangerous and now we could continue our lives like before. ..
Saturday, October 3, 2015
Back at Home
I was back at home. Nothing around me had changed during the year I was gone, but I had. That small town felt even more depressing than before. I had tasted freedom, which had now been taken away from me. I spent my days writing letters to Peter (this was way before e-mails or Skype), thinking and dreaming about him and the time we had together. Our phone calls were the highlight of the week for me.
My family was pressuring me to do something for my future, I couldn't just lay down on my bed and daydream. Of course they were right, and so I started to apply to different universities. I was also applying to university which was in my Au Pair country, near where Peter lived. I kept that as a secret from my family. My plan was to to move back there, since for some reason, I was so sure that I would not be accepted in university in my home country. I still don't know why I just did not apply only there, because that was definitely what I really wanted to do. Maybe I felt unspoken pressure from my family to stay in my home country or maybe it was just inside my own head - I wanted to please my parents by doing things that I think that they were hoping me to do. Like I had always done when I lived at home. How knows?
Weeks went slowly by and finally came the day that Peter came to visit me. And it felt like we had never been apart. Everything we had shared before was there and I felt reborn. Every night I fell asleep on his arms a smile on my face and woke up at the same place from his sweetest kisses in the morning. All my family also fell in love with him, they called him Mr Sunshine, since he was smiling all time and he was full of that positive energy which radiated everywhere where he was. I was in heaven.
Three weeks went fast and ironically his last day was also the day when I got the information from the university, if I got in or not. I opened the letter with shaky hands. I got in, with highest points possible. Till that moment, I had believed that it would be only couple of weeks that we should stay apart and now, only one hour before Peter's plane left there was no certainty when and where we would see again. I felt like I was dying.
My family was pressuring me to do something for my future, I couldn't just lay down on my bed and daydream. Of course they were right, and so I started to apply to different universities. I was also applying to university which was in my Au Pair country, near where Peter lived. I kept that as a secret from my family. My plan was to to move back there, since for some reason, I was so sure that I would not be accepted in university in my home country. I still don't know why I just did not apply only there, because that was definitely what I really wanted to do. Maybe I felt unspoken pressure from my family to stay in my home country or maybe it was just inside my own head - I wanted to please my parents by doing things that I think that they were hoping me to do. Like I had always done when I lived at home. How knows?
Weeks went slowly by and finally came the day that Peter came to visit me. And it felt like we had never been apart. Everything we had shared before was there and I felt reborn. Every night I fell asleep on his arms a smile on my face and woke up at the same place from his sweetest kisses in the morning. All my family also fell in love with him, they called him Mr Sunshine, since he was smiling all time and he was full of that positive energy which radiated everywhere where he was. I was in heaven.
Three weeks went fast and ironically his last day was also the day when I got the information from the university, if I got in or not. I opened the letter with shaky hands. I got in, with highest points possible. Till that moment, I had believed that it would be only couple of weeks that we should stay apart and now, only one hour before Peter's plane left there was no certainty when and where we would see again. I felt like I was dying.
Thursday, October 1, 2015
Dream Life
My Au-Pair year was a dream come true. I did not go to U.S. though, decided to stay in Europe instead.
If I should consider one word how I'd describe how I first felt when I moved away from home, it would be Free! i was free from my parents, free from that little town that I hated, free from everyone's expectations. Nobody knew me, I could do (almost) everything I wanted. Suddenly it felt like the whole world (well, at least Europe) was open for me!
After about one month I met Peter. I was coming back from a party and there he was at the bus stop, waiting for the same bus as I was going to take. Peter was very tall, handsome, strong build and his smile seemed to lighten the whole world (and he was smiling all the time). In the bus he came to sit next to me and we talked the whole way back home just to discover that we lived only about 300 meters apart. I fell for him head over heels that night and so did he.
After that night we were inseparable. I had had boyfriends before, but Peter was my first big love. The whole year was like a dream, everyday was a new adventure with him. From the beginning we knew that we have only about 9 months together. Maybe because of that we did not want to lose a second of our time together. It felt that we couldn't get enough of each others, like we were just one person breathing with the same heart. We travelled together all around Europe, we did crazy things (e.g. like making out on a park bench on a cold autumn night), we went for long walks and bike trips, partied and got wasted together (once I was so drunk that I couldn't bike by myself anymore and Peter put me on the back of his bike and biked all the way, about 10km holding me with one hand at the same time, that I wouldn't fall). Every single day when I saw him I ran to him and he lifted me up with his strong arms and whispered into my ear something like "My girl, I love you so much". My lips were all the time literally swollen from kissing so much. We never argued during that 9 months, ever. Because of Peter, I felt loved like never before, I felt I was where I should be and with the person I should be with.
The day I had to go back to my home country was the worst day in my life so far. We had no idea what would happen next. The only plan we had was that Peter would come to visit me on his summer holiday. At the airport I was a wreck and I wouldn't want to let go off Peter. I had to force myself to walk to my plane. I cried the whole way back home. All my family, my parents, Alex and both of my grandparents were picking me up from the airport and they had organized a welcoming party at home. Of course I was happy to see them, but at the same time my heart was in pieces and I felt stronger than ever that I do not belong there.
If I should consider one word how I'd describe how I first felt when I moved away from home, it would be Free! i was free from my parents, free from that little town that I hated, free from everyone's expectations. Nobody knew me, I could do (almost) everything I wanted. Suddenly it felt like the whole world (well, at least Europe) was open for me!
After about one month I met Peter. I was coming back from a party and there he was at the bus stop, waiting for the same bus as I was going to take. Peter was very tall, handsome, strong build and his smile seemed to lighten the whole world (and he was smiling all the time). In the bus he came to sit next to me and we talked the whole way back home just to discover that we lived only about 300 meters apart. I fell for him head over heels that night and so did he.
After that night we were inseparable. I had had boyfriends before, but Peter was my first big love. The whole year was like a dream, everyday was a new adventure with him. From the beginning we knew that we have only about 9 months together. Maybe because of that we did not want to lose a second of our time together. It felt that we couldn't get enough of each others, like we were just one person breathing with the same heart. We travelled together all around Europe, we did crazy things (e.g. like making out on a park bench on a cold autumn night), we went for long walks and bike trips, partied and got wasted together (once I was so drunk that I couldn't bike by myself anymore and Peter put me on the back of his bike and biked all the way, about 10km holding me with one hand at the same time, that I wouldn't fall). Every single day when I saw him I ran to him and he lifted me up with his strong arms and whispered into my ear something like "My girl, I love you so much". My lips were all the time literally swollen from kissing so much. We never argued during that 9 months, ever. Because of Peter, I felt loved like never before, I felt I was where I should be and with the person I should be with.
The day I had to go back to my home country was the worst day in my life so far. We had no idea what would happen next. The only plan we had was that Peter would come to visit me on his summer holiday. At the airport I was a wreck and I wouldn't want to let go off Peter. I had to force myself to walk to my plane. I cried the whole way back home. All my family, my parents, Alex and both of my grandparents were picking me up from the airport and they had organized a welcoming party at home. Of course I was happy to see them, but at the same time my heart was in pieces and I felt stronger than ever that I do not belong there.
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Nightmares And Doubts
Last night I woke up in the middle of the night all sweaty and scared. I was having a very disturbing and overwhelming nightmare. There were people (mainly relatives) from my past, my childhood home and my grandparents home. Everything was very confusing and pressuring.
And now I'm thinking do I dare to go on with this blog? There are so many things I have forced myself to forgive and to forget. What is going to happen if I let it all out? Is it really going to help me, or is it going to make me as miserable as I once was? This blog was just going to begin, I hadn't even written hardly anything about those things that have been haunting me. Do I dare to reveal my darkest secrets?
Even though I have these doubts now, I still want to believe I'm doing the right thing here. What I have experienced, what I have done have mold me to be the person I'm now, right? I have to go through this. To look all what has happened eye to eye and then finally let it all go. So that I can finally be free.
And now I'm thinking do I dare to go on with this blog? There are so many things I have forced myself to forgive and to forget. What is going to happen if I let it all out? Is it really going to help me, or is it going to make me as miserable as I once was? This blog was just going to begin, I hadn't even written hardly anything about those things that have been haunting me. Do I dare to reveal my darkest secrets?
Even though I have these doubts now, I still want to believe I'm doing the right thing here. What I have experienced, what I have done have mold me to be the person I'm now, right? I have to go through this. To look all what has happened eye to eye and then finally let it all go. So that I can finally be free.
Saturday, September 26, 2015
It's a Big Big World
Since I was a little girl I knew that one day I would leave my hometown and move abroad. I was always especially fascinated about U.S. and I remember telling people that when I turn 18 I'll be moving to L.A! Well, it didn't really go quite that way, but there came a day that I left my small northern hometown for good.
In high school I was dreaming about going for an exchange student for a year to Japan, but then I chickened out and did not go, even though my parents were supporting that idea. After graduating from high school, I had no idea what should I do with my future, what I should study and where I should live. There was however one thing I knew, I have to get out of this place! I felt I don't belong there. All my family and my friends and my high school sweetheart seemed to be happy to live there. And I was suffocating. The small circles, strong norms how you should live your life. I wanted something more, I wanted to break free, I wanted to BE FREE. The last thing I wanted is to do was to settle down there, go to local college, get married and have two children and a dog! I wanted to see the world, experience everything it had to offer and leave everything behind.
I examined different possibilities to full fill my dream and the easiest and fastest option was to go for an Au Pair. And so I did. I found an international Au Pair agency and it did not take long when I found a host family and was ready to go!
My plane left early in the morning. My dad was still working (he had a night shift at the hospital) thus I didn't see him that morning, I said goodbye to Alex and my mother brought me to the airport. She was crying, I didn't, I guess I was so excited and nervous of what would happen next. And when I stepped into the plane I was smiling, almost laughing - I was free, I felt something good was happening. And I was so damn right about that.
In high school I was dreaming about going for an exchange student for a year to Japan, but then I chickened out and did not go, even though my parents were supporting that idea. After graduating from high school, I had no idea what should I do with my future, what I should study and where I should live. There was however one thing I knew, I have to get out of this place! I felt I don't belong there. All my family and my friends and my high school sweetheart seemed to be happy to live there. And I was suffocating. The small circles, strong norms how you should live your life. I wanted something more, I wanted to break free, I wanted to BE FREE. The last thing I wanted is to do was to settle down there, go to local college, get married and have two children and a dog! I wanted to see the world, experience everything it had to offer and leave everything behind.
I examined different possibilities to full fill my dream and the easiest and fastest option was to go for an Au Pair. And so I did. I found an international Au Pair agency and it did not take long when I found a host family and was ready to go!
My plane left early in the morning. My dad was still working (he had a night shift at the hospital) thus I didn't see him that morning, I said goodbye to Alex and my mother brought me to the airport. She was crying, I didn't, I guess I was so excited and nervous of what would happen next. And when I stepped into the plane I was smiling, almost laughing - I was free, I felt something good was happening. And I was so damn right about that.
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Early Years Part 2 Alex
I have hardly no memories of the time before my little brother Alex was born. I was almost 5 years old when he arrived and made me a big sister. Alex was a gorgeous child, he had thick brown wavy hair and big green eyes. He was friendly, kind and everyone who knew him seemed to love him, well almost everyone.
There is one thing that Alex didn't have what I had: He did not have the need to please my parents, the way I had learnt to do from an early age. For example, my father was a huge sports man, he played tennis, volleyball, ran a lot and Alex wasn't interested in any of those at all and he wasn't afraid to show it. That annoyed my father a big time. My father was also a tough guy, didn't show much of his emotions and e.g. till today I have never seen him crying. My brother was the opposite, he showed all his feelings very openly. I remember one thing what happened when he was around 7 years old. We were watching a children's movie and the main character of the movie died, which made Alex cry. When my father saw this he was very upset to him and said "Stop that silly crying! Boys don't cry!".
When Alex hit the teens he didn't care that much of his school. Girls and partying were much more his league. Again, that was a huge difference for me, who was an A+ student, studied hard and hardly partied at all (I did have a boyfriend though!). Alex heard several times from my father sentences like "Why can't you be like your sister" or "With that kind of lifestyle you'll achieve nothing, you'll be nothing!". Every time when I happened to hear that it hurt me, but I never said anything. Neither did Alex, but I saw the anger, hate and also sadness in his eyes.
All my childhood I sensed that I was my father's favorite child and Alex was not the "right kind" for him. From my mother's side I never felt that, I think she equally loved us both as much. Alex and I used to fight the same way as I think all the siblings do. However, we always stayed close and I loved him a lot.
There is one thing that Alex didn't have what I had: He did not have the need to please my parents, the way I had learnt to do from an early age. For example, my father was a huge sports man, he played tennis, volleyball, ran a lot and Alex wasn't interested in any of those at all and he wasn't afraid to show it. That annoyed my father a big time. My father was also a tough guy, didn't show much of his emotions and e.g. till today I have never seen him crying. My brother was the opposite, he showed all his feelings very openly. I remember one thing what happened when he was around 7 years old. We were watching a children's movie and the main character of the movie died, which made Alex cry. When my father saw this he was very upset to him and said "Stop that silly crying! Boys don't cry!".
When Alex hit the teens he didn't care that much of his school. Girls and partying were much more his league. Again, that was a huge difference for me, who was an A+ student, studied hard and hardly partied at all (I did have a boyfriend though!). Alex heard several times from my father sentences like "Why can't you be like your sister" or "With that kind of lifestyle you'll achieve nothing, you'll be nothing!". Every time when I happened to hear that it hurt me, but I never said anything. Neither did Alex, but I saw the anger, hate and also sadness in his eyes.
All my childhood I sensed that I was my father's favorite child and Alex was not the "right kind" for him. From my mother's side I never felt that, I think she equally loved us both as much. Alex and I used to fight the same way as I think all the siblings do. However, we always stayed close and I loved him a lot.
Sunday, September 13, 2015
Early years Part 1 Mommy's Confidant
Where does my story start?
I have always told people that my childhood was a happy one and I have believed that myself as well. But was it? For sure my childhood was safe and in many ways happy. We did many mice things together as family (sports, traveling, visiting friends) and I always knew that my parents loved me. Only now, when I have started to analyze my past more I have come to understand that there were some issues in my childhood actually that were not that perfect as I wanted to believe.
I grew up in a small town, in a middle class family. My dad was a general doctor and my mother was an accountant. I got a little brother Alex when I was 5 years old and a dog Max when I was 10. We lived in a nice and safe neighborhood with lots of families and children around.
So, from the outside everything was perfect. But there was something that was not even close to thatt, the constant battle between my parents. I'm not 100% sure of the reasons why the relationship between my parents was so difficult, but my best guess would be that my father had other woman/women. He was a handsome, charismatic man and also well aware of that. My mother used to complain so much about him to me: "Your father is lazy, difficult and arrogant". "If you'd ever known what your father has done you would understand me". I was her confidant, the person she poured her negative feelings when she was angry or miserable. She gave me repeatedly those little hints how bad person my dad is and how tired she is to live with such a person. She was also openly nagging at him about his laziness (my dad was working hard, but at home he hardly did any household chores) and how difficult person he is to live with. Sometimes my mother was openly threatening to leave us - She never did. My father on the other hand, has never said a bad word about my mother, ever.
It's actually really weird, that only now when I'm 40 I have let myself to admit, that my mother was really unfair. Of course I understand how hard it must have been to live with my father if he was unfaithful and how angry and humiliated she must have felt. But still, pouring it all to your child, that was not definitely right. I was so used to her behavior that I did not even question it back then, it was a normal life to me. And I must say, that even though my mother was nagging almost constantly about my father, she was a very loving and caring mother for me and my brother.
There has been a long time in my life that I have hated my father from the bottom of my heart. And only now I have started to question was my hate so strong towards him partially because of what my mother did through my childhood? Or was it just because of what kind of person my father was (I will write more about him soon), and how I so long time blamed him about a terrible tragedy what happened to my family later on? I don't know really, maybe my hate was a combination of those two.
I have always told people that my childhood was a happy one and I have believed that myself as well. But was it? For sure my childhood was safe and in many ways happy. We did many mice things together as family (sports, traveling, visiting friends) and I always knew that my parents loved me. Only now, when I have started to analyze my past more I have come to understand that there were some issues in my childhood actually that were not that perfect as I wanted to believe.
I grew up in a small town, in a middle class family. My dad was a general doctor and my mother was an accountant. I got a little brother Alex when I was 5 years old and a dog Max when I was 10. We lived in a nice and safe neighborhood with lots of families and children around.
So, from the outside everything was perfect. But there was something that was not even close to thatt, the constant battle between my parents. I'm not 100% sure of the reasons why the relationship between my parents was so difficult, but my best guess would be that my father had other woman/women. He was a handsome, charismatic man and also well aware of that. My mother used to complain so much about him to me: "Your father is lazy, difficult and arrogant". "If you'd ever known what your father has done you would understand me". I was her confidant, the person she poured her negative feelings when she was angry or miserable. She gave me repeatedly those little hints how bad person my dad is and how tired she is to live with such a person. She was also openly nagging at him about his laziness (my dad was working hard, but at home he hardly did any household chores) and how difficult person he is to live with. Sometimes my mother was openly threatening to leave us - She never did. My father on the other hand, has never said a bad word about my mother, ever.
It's actually really weird, that only now when I'm 40 I have let myself to admit, that my mother was really unfair. Of course I understand how hard it must have been to live with my father if he was unfaithful and how angry and humiliated she must have felt. But still, pouring it all to your child, that was not definitely right. I was so used to her behavior that I did not even question it back then, it was a normal life to me. And I must say, that even though my mother was nagging almost constantly about my father, she was a very loving and caring mother for me and my brother.
There has been a long time in my life that I have hated my father from the bottom of my heart. And only now I have started to question was my hate so strong towards him partially because of what my mother did through my childhood? Or was it just because of what kind of person my father was (I will write more about him soon), and how I so long time blamed him about a terrible tragedy what happened to my family later on? I don't know really, maybe my hate was a combination of those two.
Saturday, September 12, 2015
This is Me
I¨m Emilia, well that's not my real name, but that's the name that you will get to know me.
I live in Scandinavia. I'm a wife and a mother and I just turned 40. If you would see me like 99% of those people who actually know me see me, you would probably think that I'm a happy, successful and a beatiful woman. I have a great husband, handsome son, good career and I have a pretty home in a respected area in a big city. I'm kind, liked by many people, have couple of very good friends. I'm healthy, I have caring parents, great in-laws. I have travelled all around the world and continue to do that still. Sounds pretty perfect, right?
Like we all know, everything is not always what it seems. Especially in my case. I have faced many painful situations in my life. Some of them I have caused by myself, some of them have just happened. I have not told my full story to anyone. I went to see a psychologist this week (I was there to solve work related issues) and I mentioned a little bit about my past to him. He suggested that maybe I should start to write a diary about everything. It could work as a self therapy, he said. And that's the reason I decided to start to write this blog. At least I will try, I'm not sure if I can let myself to open those old wounds again. To let myself remember all the things that have hurt me so much. But I will try.
So, this will be My Walk to Freedom. To finally bury those old demons of mine, so that I could truly live my life to the fullest.
I live in Scandinavia. I'm a wife and a mother and I just turned 40. If you would see me like 99% of those people who actually know me see me, you would probably think that I'm a happy, successful and a beatiful woman. I have a great husband, handsome son, good career and I have a pretty home in a respected area in a big city. I'm kind, liked by many people, have couple of very good friends. I'm healthy, I have caring parents, great in-laws. I have travelled all around the world and continue to do that still. Sounds pretty perfect, right?
Like we all know, everything is not always what it seems. Especially in my case. I have faced many painful situations in my life. Some of them I have caused by myself, some of them have just happened. I have not told my full story to anyone. I went to see a psychologist this week (I was there to solve work related issues) and I mentioned a little bit about my past to him. He suggested that maybe I should start to write a diary about everything. It could work as a self therapy, he said. And that's the reason I decided to start to write this blog. At least I will try, I'm not sure if I can let myself to open those old wounds again. To let myself remember all the things that have hurt me so much. But I will try.
So, this will be My Walk to Freedom. To finally bury those old demons of mine, so that I could truly live my life to the fullest.
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