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.

Mvh

Silje P.

 

 

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.

Power through

Is it true that women are from Venus and men from Mars? I think I put having a relationship on hold because I thought so. I thought we were very different, but are we? Of course there are physiological differences, but we all feel and want to share what’s happening in our lives. I used to despise men, thinking everybody’s a prostitute-using asshole (like my dad). Most guys I’ve met in my life have tried to put me down, but I always power through. I’ve never let a man not know that he’s undermining me. I guess I’m kind of a feminist.

Recently my uncle told my mother that I should delete this blog (in his mind ”protecting” me from not getting any jobs in the future, and he didn’t see any point in writing it). A lot of men in my life feel threatened by me and say things to make me feel bad about myself, and leaving me feeling used. They can say whatever they want; I’m not going to remove my voice. And yes, I want my voice to be heard because a lot of people suffer in their personal lives. Family issues are quite common and I want to speak out, not feeling ashamed about it so that things still stay taboo. What I talk about (when I write about my personal life) happen to a lot of people: anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, violence. The list is long. But I’m so happy that I’ve mostly gotten supporting comments. I don’t need people’s pity, I want people to understand and be understanding of people’s struggles in their daily life. I’m telling you: your wounds will heal.

My Reality

I’ve fought hard to get to where I am now, but sometimes I think how great it would be not having to fight anymore. A lot of people which I try to keep out of my life follow me like ghosts, and contact me whenever they feel like it, making me feel baffled and shocked over their next move.

My dad contacted me the day I got accepted to go to art school, I was so happy earlier and then very surprised to se him leaving me a message in my inbox on Facebook. I haven’t seen him in two years, and the last time he tried to contact me was in March, when my sister told me he had gotten married and that I now have a baby brother (who’s now 6 months I think). I told him to go to hell. This time he wrote something stupid like “Accept this kind request and my wish is to follow whatever you say attentively. Sincerely, the loony” After consulting my older sister we decided to ask for the money he promised to give us 5 months ago. He answered me by writing one of his stupid jokes and said because I had been acting badly I wouldn’t get anything, but my younger sister would. Right there he was saying ‘I had no right to be upset that my 60 year old father didn’t tell me I’ve got a brother or that he got married’. I told him he could go to hell and that he wasn’t my father or my other sister’s father, and that I have a new one. I told him to never write to me again, never. He seems to have this amazing ability to fuck you over when you least expect it. I’m done with that, I don’t want his money, and he’s never helped me out with anything financially. I helped me out, and it was our mother that provided for us when we were children. He’s so greedy. When my sisters met him in Norway one of them asked him: is it hard taking care of the baby? He laughed and said: Yes, for her (his wife)…

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 100^th chance) and let new people into your life.

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….

Finding someone special

I’ve done something I didn’t think I would ever do. Well, I did it out of curiosity. I made a profile on a dating site. I was quite surprised that so many men contacted me. Many of them wrote on their profile that they’re shy, and I figured that it’s hard for them to make the first move. You also got some freaky pervert-people. A 62-year-old man contacted me, and I immediately blocked him. There are some risks, but also a lot to gain. I personally am quite tired of the whole going out thing, with drunk guys hitting on you, trying to hump your leg. Most of the girls I talked to about this subject tell me that they first sleep with a guy then maybe find them on Facebook, add them, chat with them, and then get their phone number so they can meet again. It’s a very long process. People decide for themselves what they want, but I like to do things differently. I’d rather have my integrity intact. I am very direct, some guys like it and others get frightened and feel intimidated. The last part saddens me a bit, because girls should be able to ask a guy out face to face. But it’s their loss, not mine.

My two best friends found each other on the Internet, and they’re very happy together. I don’t know why going online to find someone is still taboo. But I know many use it as a last resort. I must admit I’ve always been a bit sceptical, but I wont just sit on my ass waiting for Prince Charming to come along.

I saw this very funny movie some days ago, its called “What’s your number?”  You see the protagonist going through her exes trying to find her true love, yes that part is a cliché.  In the end she finds out that being in love means being yourself. I think that’s kind of true. A lot of people try to be perfect, something they’re not. You can’t really be anything but you, with the good and the bad. Either they like it or they don’t.

❤

Nudity

In an earlier post Girlism part 3 I told you I could never imagine myself posing naked, ever. Recently I was an extra in a movie. They first told me they needed extras in clothing. I came to the set and they needed me to be naked. First I was shocked, but they said I could wear a tank top and panties. I said okay.  Then they changed their mind and needed someone to sit on a bench and they would film that person naked from behind. My heart was racing and I discussed it in my mind, “I’m not ashamed of my body, and they’re going to film me from behind. And they’re also going to film my tattoo”. I said “Yes”. I even got a compliment afterwards; they said my ass looked very good on the bench.

While waiting I talked with some of the extras, some of them were nudists. It was kind of liberating talking about nudity. As a woman the female ideal is forced upon us and we feel inadequate. But we are different. We can not all fit one standard model. I think all body types are amazing, and nudity isn’t always sexual. It’s not like I get aroused seeing some guys penis. The whole situation made me look at my body in a new way. We’re all different and that’s wonderful. I’m happy I’m unique, and so are you!

Girlism part 3

I was quite surprised and happy when a friend told she could definitely model naked, because she’s proud of her body. I am proud to be a woman, but I must admit I’m not confident enough to show myself naked like that. It took me years to accept my figure, hips and ass, when all I saw was people stribing for an anorectic looking body. We’ve come a long way for woman rights, but we still got a way to go. This “Ideal woman”- campaign has to stop. Nobody’s perfect, why strive for something that you can’t achieve, and that isn’t you.  Be proud, not ashamed. Being a woman is great, we need to take a stand for what we represent and put all aspects of it in a positive perspective.

Girlism part 2

We used to hide our tampons. (We stopped using towels because it showed too much, or we thought it showed through our pants.) When going to the toilet to change you had to use as little time as possible, so nobody would suspect anything. It was awfully embarrassing dropping a tampon on the floor, in case anybody saw it. We used to put it in our pant-pocket and nonchalant cover it with our hand.  We girls are happy now when we can stop the process entirely and not getting pregnant. I use an Implanon, I can’t say I’m not happy because having menstruation is quite a messy business. One girl in my class told me her mother wanted to celebrate with champagne when she became a woman. In a way I think we deserve a celebration. I think its enough that we have to live up to the standards portrayed in magazines, being skinny, have hairless bodies, volumized luscious hair, pretend we don’t go to the toilet, and hide our womanhood (the fact that we get our periods).

tbc- to be continued