How deep is your love?

20,000 days with him by her side. Her solid rock, her encourager, her love. Together they raised their offspring and were the joyous grandparents of the bunch of grandchildren they got.  

2,500 days without him by her side. He is still in her heart, her mind and thoughts. She misses him so much, wanting to join him desperately.

Two people united in one true love, two souls became one. Beyond earthly boundaries. To be reunited someday. That is love that makes living without unbearable. An eternal deep love. It exists. Ever after. Even after.

What should one do when witnessing this struggle, this pain? Hold on move on? Hold tight. Hold hands. Rub feet. Be there.

Let go. Let go. Let go.

Oh no! That means that she cannot tell, she cannot teach us anymore. Or still?

Sitting next to her when she mourns at his grave brings him back somehow. The sun winks behind a cloud, the wind tickles to dry the tears. The fresh candle she brings him has been lit. When she talks to him she tells us how deep their love is. Making me realize how much I love her. 

Nuclear receptivity

While I am struggling to make a coherent story about the estrogen signaling pathway I studied extensively the last months, I am confronted with an huge harsh world beyond my own tiny clog in the big wheel. Estrogen is a hormone which is not causing my troubled thoughts by the way. Although, it could have caused some cognitive disturbances when I was pregnant and maybe it enhances my emotions a little in this typical time of the month.  It might even influence my maternal behavior but it is not solely a feminine trouble maker. Moreover, even men depend on estrogen in their delicate homeostasis, a shortage will cause osteoporosis and men wouldn’t have a proper prostate for example if it wasn’t for estrogen’s role in the fetal development .

Estrogen binds to the estrogen receptor, obviously, but then the confusion probably sets in. We have got alpha and beta estrogen receptors and they are classified as nuclear receptors because they are found in the cell, close to the cell nucleus. Once the ligand, that is the hormone in this case, binds to the receptor, the latter starts to switch an estrogen gene on or off which in turn … (well, you’ll have to read my report if you really want to know how this story may or may not be continued).

In the meanwhile I receive updates from my dearly beloved traveling offspring. The daughter in Ghana is using her anthropological skills to determine if she is ready for more than a day job at the local art-market. The son and his companions are on their way to test distant hostels, challenging that with, in my opinion, a little too much of the products of the local breweries.  Not while they drive though. But what shocked me more than I could imagine beforehand was that their journey also means excursions I would never consider even if it would be mandatory. Honestly, I wonder what it is that makes kids, young men and probably also young women, go there.

I am talking about Auschwitz and Tsjernobyl, both places ultimately connected to disaster and loss of so many. Pictures cannot describe the feeling, they wrote, neither can words. Why would someone voluntarily want to experience such a feeling? Am I ignorant? I won’t say that, I am quite likely able to imagine how it feels there and I don’t want that imprinted in my soul. For the second place, I still remember vividly the news reporting about the accident with the nuclear plant and the immense outcome back in 1986. That year I went to the former Yugoslavia for my vacation and it scared me to go so close near the disastrous area. Well, they may explain it further to me when they return home, my kids. I already learned from them that the dose of radio-activity is higher in a transatlantic flight than it is there.  And all four of them do have a scientific education, they don’t avoid the truth, contrary they are looking for it.  Even the not so nice aspects are part of our lives.

Thankfully, the other daughter is closer to home although abroad. She is charging her battery with books she finds in the local charity shops and doing lots of other shopping and girly stuff. And the youngest daughter follows her friends to sunny places in typical tourist locations neither too far away. I, however, had to dig deep to find my own dream destination this year, that is as soon as I would have finished this assignment. The core of what I am looking for is beauty, a good feeling that refills me for the next year. I know that it won’t be enough to simply read or watch movies and pictures about such places. I am receptive to feel good.

Once upon a time on a dark sunny day…

Thumbling thoughts with no reason in it are also part of memories. Feelings, emotions, overwhelming and most time hidden under a heavy lid. We don’t know exactly where memories are stored in the brain, although we do know that the hippocampus is important in forming new memories the memories themselves don’t resident long there. They might even diffuse throughout the body. Why else would we put our hands to our hearts when expressing the feeling about someone we love? Or point to our belly to express that there’s something very dark hidden in us?

Without much (conscious) effort we manage to keep the lid put firmly. Not aware how much the content under the lid, or the void most likely, is influencing our present lives. Until something distracts us and we let our attention slip for just a millisecond. Life’s lessons don’t have clear timetables and when they present themselves they don’t appear as kind invitations to grow.

Rationally you know you’ve dealt with your past experiences. However, emotionally it takes much longer before acceptance does occur.  A lifetime, sometimes. After all it takes a whole lot of courage to take a look under the lid and even more so to unwire the mess and reconnect it properly again. A task which is almost too much to do alone. Like in the case of Alice.

She was very young when you was disconnected for the first time. She didn’t fall in the famous rabbit hole yet but let’s say that she sprained her ankle on its surface while running in the imaginary woods of her childhood. Not able to bond really with her peers but not showing much trouble either. It was not long before she was really disconnected. This time it was serious and physically visible so she received much concern and care from people in her environment. She dwelled in the attention she got then, it felt almost like being popular and loved. Meanwhile the wounds seem to heal properly. What Alice didn’t know at that time was that the true wound has been covered under the metaphorically lid. And stayed there for a very long time, unhealed.

It was confusing to feel totally despair without a single soul present who could explain what was going on. It was not constantly that she felt that way but more attack wise. It terrified her to feel not able to breath and many times she thought she would die or was losing her mind. There was more that bothered Alice at that time. She was also afraid to express anger. Afraid to drive the people she needed most to survive away from her.  At that point it was clear to her that the physical expression of arousal had a psychological foundation. If only there was some psychological help. A long journey began and she found some but not all the help she was looking for. It never seemed enough to reach out to the matter under the lid. She learned to peek briefly under it but was ready to flee from it again quickly. After a while she became aware of her greatest fear, being alone by herself, without distractions from the muddy pool she could easily drown in. She felt she was frequently lured into that challenge by life’s lessons because she was attracted to people who did not bond really to her. Sometimes she confused those feelings with love. If only she learned to love others for who they really are then she would… What? Find happiness? Being whole again? Lifelong commitment?

Then fortunately her helpers were born. Kindly pushing and stretching her boundaries. Teaching her the skills she lacked so far. They made her see she was somehow worthy. With so much unconditional love she was ready to jump out of the nest of lonely safety she was living in.

Another journey began where she learned that she was rather harsh for herself. She had much to catch up with and felt that no matter whatever she accomplished, it was never enough. Never enough.

She was still striving for acceptance. Acknowledgement for her birthright to live, love and be loved. At the time I start working with her slowly she became ready to really look under the lid. To disentangle the mess and reconnect the wires. At that time it started to make sense to her what loving oneself is. I accepted her for who she was and made her stand out for herself. Told her that true love does not need clinging to and that umbilical cords are very flexible by the way. Oh and of course she may say no or have her demands. It is her life, she rules it. Sweet Alice doesn’t need to be sweet all the time. Alone is not lonely per se. And lonely does not always mean being by yourself. Damn, Alice? Who the fuck is Alice? It’s me who is still standing and turned July in the bright and sunny time of year again.

Annoying buzzer

I’ve got a new roommate and he is getting on my nerves already. After only a couple of hours together I’m fairly positive that I might kill him if he won’t die soon by himself. I know, harsh words by someone who is mainly very tolerant. That’s his own fault because he keeps entering my personal space uninvited and what more keeps circling very close around me.  “Live and let live is my motto, but I simply cannot concentrate on what I have to do with you around buddy. Oh, did I scare you with my murderous thoughts? What? Why are you sitting there smugly rubbing your hands together? Do you like pissing me off? You know what, I’m going to bed and you’re not allowed to follow me upstairs. You may wake me up in a couple of hours, though, you’re probably better than my alarm. That is, when you haven’t give up living here by then. Night, bluebottle.” 

Multiculti Summertime

The similarity between Ghana and Russia is that both nations host children of me during a whole month this summer. Since both cultures are quite unknown to me it will result in a boot camp summer course and by the time they’ll be back I’d be able to tell you about a variety of topics from gari (Ghanaian dish) to KaZantip (Festival in the Ukraine) . Secondhand of course but still. If only…

Well, in one instance the car is already filled up with four broad shouldered (more or less) young men which leaves literally no room for me and in the other case I would also definitely be the proverbially fifth wheel. So it is out of the question to join them physically. Therefore it is great to have an imaginative mind and picture in my mind’s eye what they write and tell me.  It is a challenge for my presumed open mindedness, I realize. Next to a lot of monitoring of the respective local situations and being greedy for updates I will have to hunt a lot of bears on the road of my mind. But I do also envy them a little. What would be more helpful to tackle stereotypes than meeting the people after all? 

Pleasure toys

I tend to be so damn serious sometimes that when I observe myself I can only think “boooring”. Do I really feel my life is only a tour of duty? So much that it literally presses my head and shoulders down? Thankfully not all the time but often I need someone else to make me aware that it’s time to loosen up a little. Like today when I got a present.

I didn’t expect one and the image on the rectangular box didn’t give much away. A bit suspicious I opened the box in the meanwhile informed by the kind giver that there were already 4 batteries in the thing. “4 batteries?!” was all I could think. The giver went on with more enthusiasm, probably reading my expression, and explained how handy it would be and the fun she had from using hers. “With a thing that uses 4 batteries for a job that requires no effort when you’d do it manually?” my thoughts went on. She also brought a nicely smelling refill and I didn’t want to spoil her surprise totally so I filled the thing after we finally managed to open it. “Now I am supposed to use this because she’ll notice when I don’t. It has to be on display forever”, I thought depressed. She warned me that I’ll have to be careful though because sometimes the thing starts accidentally, spilling its liquid unwanted. “Great, so I’ll have to dab the liquid whole day long”, my nagging conscious thought. After all, in this life we are supposed to save energy, to save the environment and to save ourselves from unnecessary stress.

But, I’ve already used it a couple of times now in the few hours I own it and like all new toys it was fun using it. Even witnessing how it spilled its fluid accidentally felt like a challenge of how to prevent that as much as I can. And how funny would it be when my kids and guests will discover my new toy. Why did my mind not come up with that kind of thoughts right then when I got it? Well, at last I proudly present my automatic soap dispenser, a present from my mom. 

Bubbling

It has been a while. A very busy time and I still have loads of work to do. Not only study and job related things but many things in and around the house also, the latter I save mainly for the weekends. At least I try that. There were many months that I didn’t feel like writing here, simply because my business was booming, almost over the top. Now with most of the job done and the end of term nearing there’s room for other matters. Like the backyard. Just in time for the Summer.  

I had a vision of a porch-like attachment to my house. That side of the house faces the sun. It would also be handy when I would finally find the will power to smoke my cigarettes outdoors. But the sun blind hangs in the way. Therefore I changed the original idea for an attachment to the shed at the end of the backyard. Funny how words have an ability to mislead you. The end of the backyard. Bet you imagine a whole lot of space outside my house. Backyard sounds huge to me anyway, but garden seems neither appropriate. It is nice though, and when it’s done, the porch-thing has to be covered in Wisteria. I’ve already bought two white ones and a blue one. I will also plant honeysuckle and lavender because I love the smell of flowers. I imagine myself sitting there after dinner until dusk turns in to the night. The warm glow of a wood fire in the patio heater.  Reminiscing about the past year and everything that happened.

So many thoughts in my head ready to spill out but I’ll try to spice them up with what I’ve learned from Psychology and mold them neatly into little stories. Until then I leave them bubbling inside me. I’ll be back soon.