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 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:)


Madrid, en fantastisk by i hjertet av Spania. Vi dro dit ved morgengry. Jeg pakket ferdig baggen min og presset den ned i korgen på sykkelen, jeg ble nesten litt overrasket over at jeg ikke tippet overende. Det var herlig, den kjølige morgenluften var frisk og vekket meg opp. Jeg møtte jentene ved et drosjestopp, de var litt sent ute. I mellomtiden latet jeg som jeg ventet på noen for å avstøte fulle menn som var på vei hjem etter en natt ute på byen. Bussen var ikke av samme kvalitet som de i Norge, men det gikk fint å sove med solbriller på. Jeg hadde tatt med meg mye nistemat, ostesmørbrød, kirsebær, kjeks, gatorade og vann. De andre hadde glemt å ta med seg frokost så jeg ble matmor på turen. Jeg var klar til å se byen hvor faren min hadde studert under Franco. Det kriblet i magen da jeg merket landskapet forandret seg til åkre, vidder av åkere nesten uten bygninger.  Alt var gult, men man kunne av og til se et enslig oliventre.

Vi visste ikke hvilke busstasjon vi kom til å ende opp ved. Heldigvis hadde Jenna med seg en reisebok om Spania, og vi fant ut at det var veldig mange i Madrid. Vi måtte spørre flere om hvordan vi kunne komme oss til sentrum. Den ene foreslo en 45 minutters busstur, men metro viste seg å være raskere. Madrid var ikke slik jeg forestilte meg, det var koselig, gammelt, og spennende. Været var også mye bedre, jeg kunne faktisk gå rundt uten å svette slik som jeg gjorde i Valencia på grunn av fuktigheten. Vi satte oss ned på en kafé ved Puerta del Sol for å orientere oss litt. Hele tiden tenkte jeg at – her har faren min bodd. De siste årene har vært en reise i hans fotspor, jeg visste ingenting om ham, men nå kunne jeg se noe han hadde sett. Jeg prøvde å forestille meg å bo der under Franco, å oppleve rasisme på grunn av hans latinske utseende. Det var mer mangfold i Madrid, mennesker fra alle nasjoner og som hadde flere kles-stiler. Jeg så for eksempel min første spanske goth med nesten to meter langt hår.

Hostellet vi overnattet i lå veldig sentralt, men vi hadde litt problemer med å finne frem. På veien så vi en bokforhandler, som var ganske så spesiell. Den var laget av bokhyller montert til en mur med vinduslemmer som man kunne låse.  Ingen av oss hadde sett noe slikt før. Men den økte vår følelse av byens koselighet.

Samme dag som vi ankom Madrid dro vi for å se slottet. Det var mye større enn det i Norge og hadde en egen kirke. Vi kjøpte billetter til å se en del av slottet, det var spekket med gull, fløyel, krystall-lysekroner, statuer. Alt var overdådig. Da det var tid for siesta dro vi til et sted for å spise, alt var bittelite og dyrt. Etter et litt mislykket måltid spanderte jeg is på oss, som vi brakte med oss på veien til El Prado. Køen for å komme inn gratis var helt enorm, men den beveget seg fort. I luken fant vi ut at vi som studenter kunne komme inn gratis når som helst. Inne i El Prado leide vi lydguider og begynte vår ferd gjennom en labyrint av bilder. Det var så mye å se, og hodet mitt begynte å bli fult allerede etter å ha vært gjennom noen av salene. Vi ville se alt, og merket ikke hvor fort tiden gikk, og vi hadde bare en og en halv time til det skulle stenge. Det siste kvarteret ble nesten hektisk, for vi ville se de mest berømte bildene. Jeg fikk sett bildet av Goya ”Saturn som spiser sin sønn”. Det bildet har skremt meg siden jeg var liten og så det i et blad. Men vi bestemte oss for å komme tilbake neste dag for det var fortsett mye å se. Det var heldigvis ikke som Louvre som er helt gedigent stort. Dagen etter så vi et marked og  et annet kunstmuseum, La Reina Sofía. Der fikk jeg sett Guernica, bildet av Picasso som fremstilte bombingen av byen, byen hvor familien min kommer fra. Bildet var som et spørsmål ”hvor kommer jeg fra?”. Det første var ”Hvem er faren min?” Jeg har begynt å danne meg et bilde av ham, men av fortiden… Hvordan mine baskiske forfedre havnet i Peru vet jeg ikke. Jeg ville vite hvor de dro fra, hvilke havn, hva slags båt, hva slags farer de må ha møtt ved å krysse Atlanterhavet. Og hvorfor hadde familien min et våpenskjold?

Det var så mye jeg ikke visste om fra faren min sin side av familien. Jeg visste heller ikke så mye om de danske genene mine; tippoldefaren min var visst dansk. Mens jeg skypet med moren min fant jeg det som mest sannsynlig var en forfader, han var en vagabond som drømte om å bli kunstner, og han var flink. Det sto noe om han i et dansk leksikon på nettet. Det var mormor sin side av familien som var kunstnerisk, og kanskje kom det fra ham…

Do you trust?

During this stressy exam time of the year I’m actually quite at ease with everything. I’ve met wonderful people here in Valencia, but it took some time finding them. Going abroad you’re very open to meeting new people, some want to be themselves and others want to show themselves from their best side. In the beginning I thought I met some people I could trust, that turned out to blow up in my face, but I feel I’ve learnt something from it all. I’m very open about stuff so most people know me, I’m honest and always myself with every mood that that entails. If I’m upset you can definitely see it on my body language.

One girl told me to never tell anything personal to anybody, because you can’t trust anyone. But I personally want to trust people and at least give them a chance, though people don’t always act the way they’re supposed to.  You get disappointed, but you learn that that person wasn’t supposed to be your friend, you move on and find others who are much better, because you deserve it! There’s no use hoping that someone will change for you, they will only change when they want to.