Trust in you

For those of you who’ve read my blog already know about me struggling with family issues. My family members have made it hard for me to trust after being lied to and let down many times, unfortunately I’ve brought this mistrust with me into my friendships and relationships. I’ve yet to find a partner. I must say I’ve been very unfortunate in that department. Some might look at me as a whore that only sleeps around, some whish they could let go and do the same. But that doesn’t really matters, what matters is that I too want to find somebody, I just haven’t come across a person that has made me trust. Most people I’m with open up a lot because I’m very open, for instance about my problems, and I understand. Some people might not talk so openly, as me, about so-called “problems” and keep it to themselves. And when they meet me, who’s also very curious, they open up.

I was talking to a friend to day and we were talking about this, that some people sometimes are desperate to talk to somebody about their issues, and when they meet a person that’s is open and honest they use the situation. I feel I’ve been used as a therapist by many people, and amongst them a lot of boys. In the end I felt like the man who had to listen and be understanding, and not really being listened to. My older sister said to me that I’ve got to ask less questions when I want to get to know people, so that they won’t open up so much. I guess maybe I should change, but I can’t help it, I’m very curious about people and their life, who they are as a person etc. But this has been a problem with every guy I’ve ever met when it gets a little bit serious, and especially when it comes to talking about our lives. They might say: My parents got a divorce. Then I say something about me: I was forced to stay with my dad every other weekend and wasn’t let out of the house until my mother picked me up on Sundays.  (This will be to not freak the person out with the rest of what I could’ve told him). Then they get the confused face, they’re either thinking: what do I say now, should I change the subject? Or “should I say something comforting?”, or they continue talking about themselves. I usually say I don’t need any advice because for me these are facts; it’s not anything I need to talk about.

I’m just tired of feeling used like a therapist. People who’ve actually been through something horrible don’t always want to talk about it or being used as a shrink. People automatically think we’ve got the strength to listen and listen, when sometimes we just need someone to be understanding. What we’ve been through will never leave us; we just have to learn how to live with it for the rest of our lives.

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.

1000 Questions

I usually get many questions about my last name. When people see the name Porturas, and look at me, they never imagine that I’ve got Native American blood. But I do, I’m a white Inca Indian and my father is from the Andes Mountains. When people think about the Andes they usually think that people there live in small huts and are chocolate brown. And when they see me, a blue/green-eyed girl with light brown hair they think it’s impossible that I hail from there. And I have to explain what a mestizo is. “Mestizo is a term traditionally used in Latin America and Spain for people of mixed heritage or descent. In some countries it has come to mean a mixture of European and Amerindian” – Wikipedia

My Spanish descendants come from the Basque country. I found some people in the White pages with my last name. I really want to go and see where I’m from.

Question number one is usually: But your last name doesn’t seem Norwegian.

Answer: No, it’s not. It’s Peruvian.

Q.2: …But you don’t look very Peruvian.

A.2: My father is a mestizo, a mix.

Q.3: Do you speak Spanish fluently?

A.3: No, I don’t. My father didn’t want to teach me.

Q.4: But can’t you talk to him in Spanish?

A.4: I don’t have any contact with him.

Q.5: Why?

A.5: Because he’s a machista. Do you know what it means? If you do, I don’t have to explain more.

Silence…

Q.6: Have you been there?

A.6: Yes, I have, three times.

Here people usually get really uncomfortable and change the subject. And I usually do it too, because I’m tired of the questions.  Even though I’m white I feel like I am a mix, because I am a mix. And Yes, my father is my father! I’m really tiered of those jokes.

Deal with it; in the end the whole world will be a mix, and race won’t exist.

I’m sorry Mikel

I’m sorry I will never see you hermanito mio.

I’m sorry I will never be a sister to you, only a distant figure.

I’m sorry that you were made for selfish purposes.

I’m sorry you will feel the way I felt.

I’m sorry that your father is a psycho,

and your mother a gold digger.

I’m sorry I will never hold your hand, and see you grow up.

I’m sorry I lost you when I knew you where alive.

I’m sorry

Love,

Your sister

Do YOU think I’m weak for crying?

When I was little my father said to me only weak people cry. I only saw him cry once, that was in my grandfather’s funeral. If I talk too long to anybody about my Grandfather I start to cry, because he was like a father to me. Before I never cried in front of anybody, I was ashamed of doing it. I felt weak because I wanted to cry all the time. I usually cried in my sleep so nobody would hear, I felt invisible. I especially don’t like men seeing me cry, because I hate to feel like weak woman who needs a guy to rescue her. My father has seen me cry, and for a long time the only other man who’d seen me was my therapist. The third person was actually the tour guide of the Spanish school I was studying at. Me and another woman watched a movie called “Camino”. At the end he came into the room and explained more about it, and I just couldn’t stop the tears from falling, stroking my blushing cheeks. I felt a bit embarrassed.

I don’t know why it’s like that, that you can’t cry. I cry if I see a sad movie, or if I see a happy movie. I cry happy tears and sad tears.

You know the saying “crying your heart out” I’ve felt it. At one point in my life I was so hurt I felt like dying. It’s a horrible feeling that I don’t wish anyone to experience.

I am an emotional person, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong about it. It’s better to cry and get comfort than to cry in the darkness alone.

L for Live, L for Life

For many years I thought I was dead. I didn’t live the life I was meant to.  When you’re a child you have no control of what’s going to happen to you. And growing up with a psychopath doesn’t exactly leave your mental state very stable.  I was depressed, anorexic, suicidal and I self-harmed myself. I’ve been through most of the mental “illnesses”. A lot of people feel uncomfortable talking about psychological issues, and a lot don’t like to hear what is the reality for some people. I think people need to know. I’ve struggled for most of my life feeling I’ve been carrying a dark secret, a secret that society doesn’t like to talk about. Mine was being a victim of physical and emotional abuse.  I don’t like being pitied it kind of makes me angry, because by pitying me you make me a victim. And I’m not a victim. I found the courage to fight the injustice I was put through, and fight through the depression that came as a result of it.

While going to therapy a “friend” asked me, “Aren’t you going stop seeing your therapist soon? You seem fine” That’s when I found out that many still think depression is a disease, and a disease has a cure. Depression has no cure. You can look for it forever, but you’ll never find one. I’ve tried so many things, I’ve tried pills, I thought that if I just got a super best friend that it would solve it, or if I got a boyfriend or if I became a yoga teacher, the list goes on and on. A cure doesn’t exist. It’s like starting from scratch; you have to find out who you are, what you like, and what you want in life. Being purely egocentric, not letting the depression and emptiness take control. When you are in control of yourself, realizing you can’t change those around you, you start to mend the acing holes in your heart.

When I finally finished high school I realized I was actually in charge of my own life, I could do whatever I wanted. Nobody had the power to suppress me anymore. I kind of felt invincible, I had already reach bottom. What else could happen to me now? I guess I was a bit bold in the beginning, because I didn’t think of the consequences. I didn’t mind if something happened to me that would take my life. I never thought about growing old, doing what grownups do. I never thought life would be bearable. But reality has hit me, hard. By experiencing my grandfather die from cancer, my best friend and my substitute-dad, has in a way given me a lot of respect for death. Time is short, and personally I want to live it to the fullest. I just want to live my life, the way I want to live it.