En liten appell

Jeg skriver dette mens jeg ser på det slitte huset hvor han slo oss, hvor han låste oss inne…

Hele oppveksten kalte faren min meg for en idiot og fortalte meg at jeg var ubrukelig. Og jeg trodde på det. Etter år med feil valg av menn og mye terapi, traff jeg endelig en som var motsatt av det jeg kjente til fra tidligere. Jeg forsto at jeg er verdt noe selv om faren min sin hånende stemme fortsatt er der. Jeg er lei av å være sint på grunn av alt som har hendt, og vil derfor heller takke de mennene som har forstått at kvinner og menn er likeverdige, som forstår at deres størrelse og styrke ikke er til for å skade og undertrykke, men for å beskytte og verne om kvinnen sin og familien. Det er lett å si, inklusiv for meg selv, at alle menn er drittsekker, men det hadde vært urettferdig å dra alle under en kam. Vi har fortsatt en vei å gå, men la oss heller gå den sammen.


Silje P.




Suffering with your self

I randomly watched this somewhat cheesy American TV show Dr. Phil, and there was this anorexic girl on it and she was starving herself to death. After coping with a heavy depression and suicide attempts I know that what you’re feeling is often portrayed though other channels such as eating disorders, self-harm or just loosing control of your body. It was quite hard the intervention they had with the girl, but sometimes that’s what you need. I had it with myself, I was so sick and tired of the life I had it was either die or continue on an unknown path. I chose the last one. It was hard and it’s not something you can fix in an instant, but you can’t live on a diagnosis you have to continue without it and not define yourself as it. It’s easy to avoid reality when you have a disorder, but it’s not worth it and you’ll never become whole doing so.  I did so many things when I was a kid, I starved myself (I tried to be bulimic, but I was bad at it as I couldn’t force myself to throw up) I self-injured myself by cutting my arms sometimes legs, I ran away planning on living in the woods; I had lots of weird solutions to my “problem”. The problem was that I thought I was a bad person. My grandmother says bad things happen to bad people, so I believed it and blamed myself. But you reach a point where it’s make it or break it, and I made it. I realized that I had some people who believed in me and had my back, and they held me up while others tried to break me down. I’m not going to list the people that made my life miserable because I’m over it; I’ve cut them out of my life. Sometimes you’ve got to be harsh and kick out the bad (by not giving them a 100th chance) and let new people into your life.

The past semester

I’ve tried to summarise the past semester, but I can’t because too many things happened. It’s been a rollercoaster of feelings from very sad to extremely happy. Finding out I’ve got a baby brother and that my father got married was hard to deal with for a while, but I got over it, and then I found out my older brother got married too without telling anybody, I got over that too. I was with these pot smoking LSD people, but I turned my back on them as I’m against using drugs. I can’t think of anything stupider as using pot to lose weight. Anyways, I’ve had a lot to deal with, but in that chaos of feelings and ruining some acquaintances I found the best friends possible. All of them are so down to earth, funny, thoughtful, smart and open. There were no lies with them. I as a person usually look at the negative side of things to protect myself from disappointment, but now I feel my view has changed. You need to follow your gut instinct and don’t use time with wasted people. Focusing more on the people I really like was the best decision I could ever make and I found amazing people.

So to my amazing people, I hope I can meet you someday soon:)

Easter part 2

After my stay in Sevilla I went to Malaga with my Japanese friend. I stayed in Malaga one month in October November, so that’s how we met and she also stayed at my flat during Las Fallas. We saw the procession there too.

I wanted to see Alhambra and get new memories of it, not those of a horrible trip with my father. I went there alone because me friend had already been there three times. It was very nice, I needed to see some nature again, so I walked around and smelled the flowers. After my short stay in Malaga I went to Barcelona to meet my mother. I came early and got time before some friends were arriving.  My mother got there the next day so we ate dinner together after tying to buy tickets to the Barca game. It would have been cool to see.

With my mother we saw La Sagrada familia, which I saw three years ago so it was almost as i remembered it. We visited Parc Güell and Las ramblas and the Gaudí houses. When we arrived in Valencia we were both really tired. But we managed a little shopping trip and La ciudad de las artes. She really wanted to see the university so we did and took some funny pictures. And I wanted her to see the beach and try the Valencian paella.

When I met her at the airport I started crying I was sad and happy at the same time, and I ended up laughing butt he tears didn’t stop. It was weird. I didn’t cry when he left, but I was quite sad. I always leave her and I feel bad that I don’t study my whole bachelor in Norway. I constantly seek outwards and don’t feel comfortable there. But I’m giving it another go only a different university and city this time, maybe it’ll get better….

Education is the best!…or is it?

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the educational systems in different countries. In Valencia I’ve met Germans, French, Danish, American etc who’ve told me about education in their countries (mostly because I’m asking). In nearly all countries you have to choose one thing, if you decide not to continue you have to start from scratch. In Norway, if you study humanities or social science, you get one year in the middle of your bachelor to choose a different subject. And the first semester of your bachelor you study philosophy, ethics and academic writing, to prepare you for studying at a university. I did this semester in Mexico. I’m so lucky! But still I think Norwegians don’t appreciate the great system we have, we always complain. Nothing is ever good enough. I’ve had the chance to study so many different things and still I’ll get a bachelor in the end. And we pay almost nothing for our education. Of course Norway is an incredibly expensive country. Our money goes to housing and food. I don’t come from a rich family, though people think everybody from Norway is rich. I work every summer holiday to get enough money. I’m neither lazy nor snobby. But I do live better here in Spain than in Norway.

Another thing that irritates me is the bad reputation the Waldorf Schools have. People say the strangest things: that we can’t write, we play with dolls without faces or with rocks. I didn’t know that in most countries they can’t go to high school through the Waldorf system, they have to take public exams or go to a public high school. I went to a Waldorf School in my city Stavanger, and I wouldn’t change my education there for the world. I’m so happy that I didn’t have to take a year over again at a “normal” school. If you’re wondering what a Waldorf/Steiner school is you can google it, it’s too much for me to explain in just some sentences.

Those of you who do get to have an education, please be grateful because not everybody is as fortunate.

One birthday and a dead grandmother

My birthday was the 22nd of November, like it is each year. This year while turning 21 my grandmother died. Am I sad? The answer is no. The truth is I only met her twice in my life, once when I was a baby and she taught me how to walk, which I did on my first birthday. The second time was two years ago when I travelled alone to Peru to meet my family, for what felt to me like the first time.  I think she loved seeing me again, but the more I learned about my family the more I learned about why my father became who he is. My grandmother didn’t have a lot of empathy and was very stubborn, like my father.  She didn’t say goodbye to me when I was going back to Norway because I was living with her brother, and they obviously had some unresolved business. I never really liked birthdays anyway. My family has had so many problems that our birthdays were neglected. My mother though always makes the best out of it. She’s always there, my sister too, when the rest of the family doesn’t care. I’m used to not being remembered by my father, he doesn’t bother. I was supposed to be a boy. My last birthday my grandmother gave me a book about a girl that “changed for the better”, and stopped practicing the dangerous art of Yoga and found the way of God. She thinks my travels are dangerous and that I should become a missionary. Because everybody knows that yoga, communism or what ever is sinful. Why can’t family just be supportive?

I wish that someday I will be truly happy for being born, but I guess I’m not there yet. I’ve experienced a lot and I love life now, but the ghosts of my past are still haunting me, and it’s hard to let go and forgive.

A journey

I can say my journey started when I was two years old, that’s when my life changed forever. When I look back now at almost 21 years I’m not bitter anymore. Bitter because I didn’t have a normal childhood. My quest these last couple of months have been to find comfort and a safe harbour within myself. I wrote in one of my earliest posts “You are, therefore am I” and I know now that that is true. I wouldn’t be alive if it hadn’t been for my two companions in this hardship that is life, my mother and sister. We’ve fought, cried, and yelled at each other to get out the demons from our past. I’m lucky to have them. Even though I travel far away I know I have them with me. They’ll support me forever. I’m proud of both of them, because we’ve come so far. Things are beginning to change for the better. And darn it we deserve it!

I love you both!