calory

These two weeks off has really felt like the best two weeks in a long long time. I've finally had time to work on, and make sense of my own things. Improving myself, both mentally and physically. 

• 🌸 • 

Now I'm back to work. And while that's welcome too, this free time has made me realize how much I enjoy the taste of still life. One I've never liked before. 

• 🌸 • 

This new found joy makes me feel like I'm going the right direction. The bad habits that's been dominant in my life, are slowly loosening up, one by one. 

My inner storms has calmed. 

• 🌸 • 

I am still a hurricane. 

But I am gaining control.

For the first time in my life, I've found someone that's growing closer and closer to me, rather than getting more and more annoyed by. And while that is a beautiful thing, it does go against what the way I've found of how I want to live my life. 

Having to compress all of my love into one and only being, not being able to share it does not feel right for me. While I understand that this doesn't follow the normal guidelines of how relationship work, I wonder why I have to obey to the rules when I don't want to? It's not even about sex. It's about the freedom to share love. We make our own lives right?

I've been perfectly clear about having other wants than normal from the very beginning, but somehow, I've still managed to get into this relationship that requires me to be "normal". What else can one do than being clear and open about it? Isn't it unjust that I have to comply with his values of how our relationship should work, just because they are normal? Does my alternative opinions not matter as much because they are different? 

While my love for him grows every day, I still can't believe that I've now attached to someone that decides who I can meet or not. Who makes a big fucking fuss if I meet the wrong person. Who makes a big fuss if someone is attracted to me, even if I'm not to them. As if my opinion in this doesn't matter.

We have a wonderful relationship that's just getting better and better, but I can't get away from this feeling of unjust. That, just because I am mentally stronger, have to comply with his wishes because he can't handle mine. 

I know that I am different. Even wrong. A villain. But that doesn't mean that my feelings doesn't matter. And in this relationship right now, I comply because I can and will for him, but not because I want to. Which breeds that dark little dot inside somewhere. It itches every damn time I think about it. 

One of my biggest fears has been being with only one person for the rest of my life. 

I somehow hope that this eventually will disappear. What we have is far too precious to throw away because of my alternative feelings. I am willing to wait for this one, until maybe, maybe one day, I will wake up, and be comfortable with the thought of being with him forever, and him only. 

  

While I’m sure that the love I felt, and the lack of acknowledgement of it, was the foundation of the heartache, I’m also sure that this was a certain hell I had to walk through in order to emerge as I’ve done today. So much pain caused by too much inheld love, freed by an amazing chance named Simon, that thanks to his unconditional love made me realise that I can love myself. And with that, the emotional realisation that I don’t need anyone to make me whole. That I am whole. And that I could be happy if I only made peace with my mind. That mind, so toxic and full of self loathing, like dark clouds formed from childhood, that’d clinged to anyone coming close.

But us, Viktor. 

We sure had love, but in very different ways. I loved you too much, too fast, and when you were finally ready to admit your own feelings, I had been starved to the point of desperation. What did it take for you, 2 years already separated, when you mustered the power to say that you loved me? That short time we lived together, I had even start to hurt myself again, in the abscence of answers. The last time I cut myself was at age 25.

You and I met Simon almost the same time. One day in between. Simon had no clue about us, but decided that I was his love at first sight. I had no eyes on anyone else than you, Viktor. But I was starved, and I needed love. One way to put it, I was an easy, fragile victim for the unconditional love that Simon threw at me from the beginning. So there I was, caught in the storm of meeting the person that would give me all and more love than I’ve ever experienced, and you. 

It’s been hell of a ride, these 3 years. I’ve been torn and twisted in between someone that’s willing to do literally anything for me, and you, whom my soul have fought so hard for. The excruciating pain of loving you made me hold on longer. I had Simon, and hurt him along the way. I still couldn’t get rid of the feeling that deep down inside, a part of my heart, will always have loved you.

But with time, came answers. I’ve slowly started to heal. And through those cracked, but healing lenses, I’ve slowly realised a lot of things. And one of them, is that I am happy with Simon, however much I tell myself that I can’t ignore the love I felt for you. He is my best friend. He makes me laugh, every single day. He actively refuses to leave my side (we actually had lots of fights about this). We are happy together, and I’d be a fool to not acknowledge the self-healing he’s helped me through.

It took me 2 years to muster the strength to decide that we have to be over. Took me additional 2 months to grow the balls to set up our last meeting. 

While some might wonder why I needed to meet to fully separate, I needed a proper farewell. I needed to spill the contents of my heart out, and make sure that I had nothing unsaid that would come back and haunt me. It was also incredibly important to me to express the gratefulness I feel for the time we’ve spent together. What happened between us was no one’s fault. We were just not synced very well. A sad case of bad timing, that to this day count as one of my biggest life lessons. 

I maybe had to scar the most, right before I could heal. And in spite of these events, I am eternally grateful for meeting you. You taught me a lot through pain. The lucky chance that Simon came along is also an incredible stroke of luck. Without the combination of both of you, I would maybe be stuck with my toxic self. I wouldn’t have learnt to heal on the inside. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

So thank you, Viktor. Thank you for your time. Thank you for your love. I am sure that it was hard and painful for you too, and I’m sorry for being part of it. I can only hope that you’ll walk away from this with a new set of eyes on life, and with cherished memories of the good times we had. Thanks for meeting me for the last time, and for showing that the appreciation of what was us is there. Thanks for letting me cry about us, and comforting me about it. Our chapter is now closed, and I’m happy to be able to look back at this as something that started out dark, but ended up beautiful. The power of a proper farewell, and a chance to show that I’m grateful. 

Thank you, always 💜 

  

First meal of 2020, in Sicily!

After starving for the last few days because of too much work, the 2 pizzas & roasted veggie plate + bottle of Nero D’avola completely killed us. It’s now 20:22, and we’re already in bed (?!?!?!) 

Looking forward for a glorious tomorrow, as we continue to eat the rest of Sicily away 😘

But

I have fought SO hard to accept the person I am, with all my flaws that I’ve blamed myself for having my whole life. And when I finally reach that goal, when I finally accept myself for now knowing what I want, I also have to come to the understanding that by being myself, I am now hurting the one I hold dear. As we wish different things. As I’m now true to my wants. 

So, it’s either hurting him by staying true to myself, or letting go of all work I’ve done to become comfortable with my different lifeviews, and start all over again. For his sake. 

A relationship is surely about compromise, but the edge is clear at this point.

 It’s him or me, and I don’t know what to do. 

Ah... April is here. Springtimes.

The weather has been a bit cloudy lately, but it's okay. I'm enjoying every second of  the cold seasons, knowing that appreciation will make the warm ones even better. So many people in hurry for summer, forgetting to breathe in the seasons in between. Malta's got loads of summer to come anyway. I'm not in a hurry.

And life? How do I feel? 

Life feels unexpectedly... good. For now. Sure, I still have the daily anxiety to deal with, but then; who doesn't? The level of anxieties may vary, but I understand that the reasons may not be really that usual in my case though. I've broken it down to 2 main worries for now:

1) I can't sleep because I can't stop fantasizing about the roof crumbling down on me. Literally.

2) I'm sickly worried for my future, and the fact that I'll never know how things turns out. The uncertainty of the unknown, with an exceptionally cynical mind you may call it. 

However bad my anxieties may be from day to day, I'm still reminded daily of the small beauties in life. The sun saying hi in between the clouds. The sea glittering in my eyes. My lovely new flat where I've finally found a home. Random bumps of happiness coming my way. They keep me smiling, and my heart from turning to stone. 

So, life is good now. I’ve got a beautiful home. I eat a lot of good food every day. I spend a lot of time outdoors, chatting with friends or drinking coffee in the sun. I just filled my flat with green plants. My anxieties can go fuck themselves. 

Don’t blame the clown for acting like a clown

Ask yourself why you keep going back to the circus

For me, this happened on so many levels, just over a day; I suddenly wanted to keep myself in better physical health, and I also got fed up with this mindless, daily alcoholic socialisation. And with that, stopped smoking, as I’ve never really been a smoker without a drink in my hand. Suddenly, there’s so much extra time.

The strange part is that it hasn’t been difficult at all. It all came to me very naturally, by just being... fed up. Fed up of going out most nights of the week. Fed up of spending many of my free hours recovering. Fed up of being ashamed of going too crazy. Fed up speaking to the endless stream of people whom probably won’t bring more than one nights joy to my life. Fed up of not developing any other part of myself than my social network. I guess that hopeless december of life-anxiety and hormone swings did something magical. Maybe that Christmas fever was my toe-dip in hell in order to enter my next phase in life?

With all the extra time that I’ve got nowadays, I try to focus on things that I’ve always liked, but had fallen behind with amongst my priorities. So far, this stretches over 2 main topics (on top of my daily cooking & baking);

1) I’ve always been a very energetic person. Contortion, gymnastics, ballet and acrobatics has always been a huge interest of mine. As circus arts and gymnastics require more specific training halls than what I can find in Malta, yoga has been the go-to, as one can do it in any peaceful spot. Combine it with some nature and boom! Stretch and balance is back in my life. Mind you, as an ex-gymnast, I’m not sure if I’ll ever reach into the peaceful, yogi nirvana mindset. But that’s okay as long as my body agrees to bend into strange positions.

2) Another huge deal I’ve slowly gotten back to, is my arts. I’ve never seriously tried drawing with colours, and yet here I am, experimenting with brushes and acrylics and colour pencils. It’s sure as hell isn’t as easy as it was 10 years ago, but I understand that I’ll have to grind through it before it starts flowing. I did neglect it fo so long. It’s still going very slowly, but I’ll give myself that. I just hope it’s not too late for me to create art I’m satisfied with. Time will tell.

With all of this said, I’ve entered the new phase. I’m just 26, but I already feel middle-aged? 

My focus, at least right now, is finding a place where I can finally make my own home, self-care and self development. Mind you, I’m still allowing myself to go out every now and then. 2 evenings a week is okay (and a huge improvement), if the occasion is calling. Just not.... 6 days a week, every week, as it’s been the last 7 years. 

My body is thanking me with a better mood & general well-feeling (even tho sleeping might be difficult because I stopped numbing my brain with alcohol. So much clear thoughts running through my brain, making it impossible to fall asleep). But... Babysteps. I’m better. 

Phew. Finally grew a bit more. Just took me long enough.

It wasn’t the best of years, but it was hellofalot better than 2017. 

To start with, I haven’t really been myself for the last couple of months. My routines and general well-being has changed. Unfortunately, not to the better. Which is strange seeing that I’ve finally met someone that’s really good for me. I’m now spending most of my time together with someone who really really adores and respect me as an emotional being. And who loves me unconditionally. 

Just this alone should be enough, right? 

Lately, I’ve felt this illogical tiredness weighing me down to the point that all I want to do is to just sleep all of my life away. Nothing is fun anymore, and I can’t bring myself to get anything done. This tiredness just hit me in the face this autumn 2018. Out of nowhere. Which makes me panic inside, as I’ve been this super productive workaholic for all of my adult years. What happened to getting things done, all the time? Surely, relaxing is good, but going from super-productivity to sleeping 12h every day, that’s just not okay. I need to find a way out of this. 

I have my theory about the implant in my arm malfunctioning. Which I strongly believe in. You see, I’ve got this P-rod stuck in my arm since 2011, which sends out hormones and basically stops my menstruation and ability to get pregnant. Basically, I haven’t had period in 8 years. Then, this autumn, I suddenly notice some tiny bleedings. Nothing to worry about, I thought. A bad case of influenza followed, killed my immune system and I slowly notice myself getting more and more demotivated, starting to sleep more, starting to crave foods that I normally don’t crave and now I’m so far gone in this that I’ve kind of lost hope, I’m overthinking every normal aspect of life and panics about elderdom and I’m more and more consumed by paralysing anxiety for each day I decide to stay in bed because I can’t face the pain of being conscious.

I still have a part-time job to go to, but I don’t think it’s enough. As I’m so used to being a workaholic, I might need to find something that keeps me more busy from my demons. Which is really hard now that I’m stuck with whatever this tiredness am. Whatever’s wrong with the hormones that my p-rod is sending out, I need to find my way back to productivity. I can’t count on getting this fixed even when I change the implant. It might not. 

So far, the only hopes I have of 2019, is to get back on track. Find my way back to being happy with little. Seeing beauty in the small things around me. Find hope, and my will to live again. And to stop sleeping 12 fucking hours a day. 

Spent most of the year drinking happy hour cocktails at 

The Black Sheep in Sliema, my second home during 2018

And there I was, with the wind in my hair and the sun warming my skin and the Mediterranean Sea glittering at me. I felt so lucky. I mean, it’s 8:30am and I’m on a boat on my way to work? Sure, I’m an super anxious person but how could I not feel these huge waves of gratitude?! I might have my problems, but I’m constantly trying to remind myself of what a beautiful life I have. Really fucking painful, yes, but beautiful. I don’t take the sun, the sea and the blue skies for granted. I’m lucky to have this around me, and I think more people have to stop up and remember that.

Apparently, I'm doing quite a good job looking like I don't care about anything. It's just out out out, drink drink drink, laugh laugh laugh. Don't get me wrong. I love it. Mindless socialisation is by far the funniest hobby I have. I'm just a bit... excessive with it.

I just wish it was true. That I don't care about anything.

I know I'm an emotional hurricane, and I realize that I might be way to much, way to fast and way to intense for most people. Not being able to fully express it is killing me. I'm imploding, heart breaking all over and over and over again. The future might prove me wrong, but so far, the agony versus the love I've felt isn't even. My heart's been breaking as far back as I can remember. No love is worth this. I wish I could stop caring about anyone, anything at all

 

So, I'm back on the island of no fucks given (actually meant that in a homey, heartwarming sense). Still got another 2 weeks of holiday before I'll get back into my chef's wear. I've been, ever since Thailand, quite motivated to use this free time to develop my art stuff and practice of yoga. I'm afraid that I've lost all skills because of constantly working. Always at work.

 

I know that even if you're given a talent, it still won't become anything if you don't practice it. It's like that with my art. I know I've got potential, just looking back at myself growing up; always holding a pen since I was 2y old and man, I've been pretty impressive for my age. And then I started to work and almost instantly; I stopped evolving. Now, I'm stuck at the mental drawing-stage of 16. Damn, I think I even went back a few years! Surely forgot some techniques and killed a lot of creativity. I've stopped evolving.

 

My mind used to be a sprouting wild forest, stretching all over my vision, through my soul and arm and out on the paper. Oh man, all the creativity and techniques that just came to me naturally! Thinking back, I feel really impressed of the younger me, especially the teenage one. I can really feel the difference, because I remember how idea after idea popped into my head. I drew for hours every day for most of my teenage years. I remember how it felt like when my head was full of visions I could reach.

 

At first, I didn't realise that this was something I have to work for to revive. I've spent 6 years waiting for ''the inspiration'' to come back; It does not work that way. I've realised that if I want to revive whatever talent I once had, I really need to work on it. Learn those techniques back, continue through failed attempts and maybe, maybe my head will start flowing with creativity again. Maybe it's just me being very motivated in this moment, but I really want to try now. I want to see how far back I can reach. I want my wild forest back.

The sweet escape was a bittersweet mix between intense dancing joy, and ambushes of depressive realitychecks.

 

The time up north was unfortunately quite depressing overall, but considering that it was the last place me and my ex had spent our last holiday.... Let's just say that I saw it coming. However, it was really nice to spend some time with the lost family. Drinking, eating and driving around together... Sometimes I wonder if it'd be the same if we met more frequently. One will never know.

 

And then we went south.

 

Oh Pha-ngan. This place grows closer and closer to me. Especially with this visit where we actually hung out like/with locals. Met my maltese party crew up and oh my god, the first 4 days was just a hurricane of FUN. We danced, we drank, we had liquid love and we laughed. Danced til dawn, and welcomed the sun back up in the morning; bliss. Obviously, a downhill had to come. After a 53h dance-binge, my time was up. I walked through the jungle high as a kite, made it home and slept for 13h straight. 

 

The next 4-5 days was detox times. Wasn't feeling too well, which was understandable after drinking and dancing in the heat for days, barely touching food. Spent those days just taking care of myself.. Eating, beaching and resting. A lot. I was surprised that I didn't feel like partying again for so long; normally I would struggle to stay clean already after 2 or 3 days. There's something differnt about Thailand... My urge to drink does barely exist over here. It's not difficult to stay sober. Throw me back in Malta, and I'll be drawn to the bars like a fly to the light. I don't know what Malta does to me, but I turn into a complete crazy dancing alcoholic panda there. I wonder if I'll ever understand why. 

 

So, I was the last one to leave this beautiful, spiritual little island, and headed up to Bangkok where I would spend 1,5 days in wait for the flight back to my mediterranean home. Spent those days with my mother and cousin, wishing I'd stayed a bit longer... But the tickets were already booked. How foolish of me. This sudden family time was unexpected. If I'd known, I'd stayed another week. It's not like I've got a deadline to get back this time...

 

Oh yeah. I have to figure out what I want to do when I get back since Gochi closed. I've got a few options. Let's spend those 15 flight hours with that.

 

My dear friend snapped these when we played in the waters of a hidden beach on the west side of Koh Pha-gnan. One could never have guessed that there was a tiny trail into the jungle behind some bushes next to the road, leading out to this little paradise... off with your clothes!

 

 

 

 

 

The last few months has been more stressful and alcoholic than ever, with double the amounts of worries than usual, piling up on my shoulders. Paying rent for a flat I’m not staying in, the aftermaths of heartbreak, still sharing bed with the ex, not having time to move out in time before the travels, considering a change of career (economical reasons, I’m burning out) but not being able to come to any conclusion whatsoever, running in mental circles, started to date a human who sends mixed signals (I don’t even know if he enjoys my company or not?) and who’s absolutely impossible for me to read, yet I’m so hooked but also is also afraid that I’m probably still too emotionally disturbed to handle this in a good way, but then, won’t I always be? 

Add working 6 days a week on top of that and yes, I was close to hit the wall. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close before. I could feel myself loosing sense of reality. And oh, shouldn’t forget to mention the alcoholism that comes as a coping mechanism aswell.

In any case, I’m in the writing moment on a plane away from Europe. We’ll start easy with a family reunion up north, followed by some normal charter holiday down south with Ruby and the Maltese techno crew. I am slightly worried about my economical situation, but anyway; I can’t wait. I need this. My mind needs to unwind before it implodes in fireworks of manic-depressive fits (which has starting to present themselves the last week).

I’ve never been the warmest person towards my family since I grew up in a foster home, but I really looking forward for this week with them. Some soothe after this close-to-crash-period. Trying to behave like a normal family. Not having to worry about anything else than gaining weight from all of the good food we’re guaranteed to devour. Washing it all down with ice cold Chang from 7eleven ;) 

Being a food champion doesn't neccessarily mean that I eat like a pig every day. Actually, I've got my periods of binge-drinking and no food for days aswell. Guess that's a party-girl's way of compensating haha. Absolutely not saying that it's neither healthy nor intentional, but point is, my intake sure as hell isn't five pizzas a day, every day as some seem to believe.

 

On a regular basis, I would say that my eating is very healthy. Tons of seaweed, ginger, beans and vegetables, a bit of seafood/fish and some carbs on the side (I'm not afraid of carbs, duh). Probably eating waaaaaaay too much fresh chillies and raw garlic. And I don't really drink anything else than green tea, coffee, water and beer. Occasional cocktail.

 

And tequila.

 

Working as a chef means long long hours at work on my feet, which means that I have full control over my intake. There's no time for going out for dinner, so I'm already skipping the heavy takeout meals many have on a regular basis. Add 12+ hours of running around, lifting stuff and voila! It feels okay to not stress over skipping gym.

 

Even though I can (and will) eat anything that's presented to me, there's a few things I really don't like and would avoid if I can;

 

• Jellied stuff
• Melted cheese (cheese tastes better cold, in my opinion)
• Chocolate (Unless it's over 90%. Can't stand the sweet, melty feeling)
• All sorts of candy
• Sweet pastry. Cakes. Sugary stuff
• Pork meat (Yes. That includes bacon) #hatebacon

So, In general, I seem to have pretty healthy preferences anyway. Just by not even liking many of the so called bad foods, it’s not even an effort to stay on a good level of health. I don’t cry for that lost cupcake (anyway, too sweet, ew), but oh my god, give me another five portions of lentil curry!! I do eat a lot. But a lot of healthy food. Guess that’s the difference.

 I feel super lucky to crave what’s good for me instead of the artificial stuff many people seem addicted to. I don’t know how it changed to become this, I do have a history of sweets just 6 years ago, but I absolutely don’t complain :)  

 

And then we went for more beer to celebrate, of course. :)