Nostalgia on a Monday afternoon

I’m pushing fourty which means I’ve been around for at least a little bit. I’ve made some discoveries along the way.

For me, my life is so split into different chapters I can hardly look at old photos of myself and realize it is me I am looking at. This is hard to grasp. And I guess this drastic change between 2016 and 2018 have left a harder mark than I expected. I am still struggling understand it, and in this process I keep having a bit of an identity crisis. Who am I really? What is left from before? What is left of me from 2009? From 2005? From 1999? Why is it so different? I was on the same path until 2016. There were massive changes along the way, but they didn’t feel like this. I am for dear life holding onto what defines me as a person – whatever that can be. And so I get nostalgic and look at old photos of me and remember what it was like. I look at the books I have written and I can hardly understand that I did that – those are my books and my work. It almost feels like it was someone else doing all that writing. It is so far away from what I am now, and have the time for. Did I do all that? Really? I don’t really get it. Now I can hardly sit in front of a computer before I’m being bothered. I guess it’s not all bad. I know I can’t go on like I did with this new situation. It is what I wanted after all.

But yet I guess I wish it wasn’t so brutal. Everything taken away from me so brutally and so unexpectedly. I don’t really consider this place for MY house. Not when she, tired and sleepy, says the house will always be more hers than mine. Not when she still asks her ex boyfriend about technical computer stuff when I have spent a week figuring it out and giving her a good explenation. I don’t know why she does that.

If I tell her all this, all of how I feel some times she will go on the defensive and say something like “I expected you to be ready for a daughter” but you know what – it’s not about her at all. Not at all.

And so I go through old videos and photos and I look at me – this stranger – smiling or doing something with the camera. There’s me with my long hair in 2010, there’s me all skinny and naive in 2001. There’s me with my dogs in 2014 and there’s me where I want to be before anything else, an airshow in England. That’s all me and I can’t understand it is actually what it is; ME. It feels like a crime watching someone elses life. That guy died sometime in 2016 or 2017 and never really returned. Someone else stepped into his mind and body and controls it now. That guy is gone. He is no more. It’s like I’m intruding on myself and my former life looking at it and digging into it.

It should have gone away by now shouldn’t it. A few songs still gives me the absolute creeps listening to. I still miss my old house. I miss my dogs and I miss my computer. I miss so much.

But, I was prepared to sacrifice, and that I did. I did that for you Emma, and never worry about it. I was stubborn as hell. That’s why you are here. It’s all me. I did that. I was stubborn. I did not give up. I rode that bull until the end. My stubborness and my willing to NEVER give up is the reason you are here. I saved you before you were even born, But all this about me is not your fault. I got nothing to do with you. I see that clearly. I had to so drastically change things and in such a short time that I was bound to loose most of myself on the way. It’s just really weird. I have to come to know this new person now – me – and when I don’t know myself any more it is hard.

And so I look back to my old self to try and remember me, and pick up a few pieces of myself that I have dropped along the way. They are still lying around. I just need to find them.

 

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A brother biking away into the morning sunrise

I have one clear image in my head from the fall of 1999; my brother biking to school in the early August morning sun, leaving me behind in the kitchen of our parents home. It was like a scene out of a cowboy movie, and I knew back then that things would never be the same again.

I was 18 back then. Until 1999 I had lived at home, gone to high school and almost finished it as well (flunked math). I had no idea what to do come fall of 1999 finishing high school in June. I remember I had simply applied for more high school, naively thinking I could simply continue on as normal and go to school. I had always gone to school, and this was no different. I didn’t get in of course, I had spent all my school years already. The state basically told me to progress further into adulthood.

I remember my dad taking action that summer, making phone calls and pushing me doing the right thing. I didn’t know what the right thing was, but since I qualified for a health care trainee position, that’s what he had been trying to strike a deal on. I thank him for that because if it wasn’t for being on the offensive from his part, I would have simply stayed in total confusion of what to do with my life that fall 20 years ago.

And, so during the summer of 1999, I was called up by a woman working for a municipality about an hours drive away from our house. The woman on the other side asked me if I had gotten a trainee position yet, to which I said no. She offered me an interview for one. I said yes but was rather lukewarm to the idea. It felt so far away. When I got off the phone, my mom asked me who I had been talking to. I explained it was about a trainee position. When she asked where it was located I said the towns name with as much disinterest I could. I didn’t really want to go, but I knew I had no choice. And so I went to the interview, and got the job. My dad told me, when we drove home, how he was pleased everything worked out for me. I wasn’t so sure, but I guess in the end I was. And, in retrospect 20 years later, he was right.

Up until that point I had always been close to my brother. He is seven years younger than me, but we still did lots of things together during our childhood years. Actually, we did most things together. Football, ski jumping, watching TV sitting both in a comfy chair from the 70s meant only for one person. We slept in the same room together, and even shared some friends as well. He copied me in many things and interests.

I knew that once I moved out, things wouldn’t be like that any more, and I dreaded this day that would come when I would drive to this new town and start my job as a trainee. I could no longer mentally reach down towards a younger me being with him doing our things. I would release the final grasp of childhood and be fully connected to an adult world. A more complex world at that. It would turn out to be a more lonely world and a more challenging world, and maybe I knew as much that morning.

I don’t remember much else besides that specific image of him biking to school. It’s funny that. I don’t remember anything about driving there, or staying the first night there. Nothing. I do remember my brother had been talking about getting rid of my bed from what would now be his room all alone. It sort of hurt my feelings that his first task would be to get rid of it, but I guess he wanted to experience what it was like to have his own room at last. He deserved it. And so that morning, I got up as normal and I would drive to this new town starting my life as a trainee and he would continue his life at home. We had breakfast, and then – in the bright morning sun – I saw him bike those 3,5 kilometers to school. I knew that was it. A chapter closed with him disappearing down the narrow country road. While I still would come back and we would do many things like before, it was never the same again. The first step towards a family of five not being so close any longer. That first step of many for all three of us children slowly creating our own lives. I knew it was the first of many. That’s why that image of him biking off is burned into my memory.

I guess I remembered this image of him biking into the sunrise today because of the weather today. It’s warm, bright and the sun today looks and feels the same as that day in 1999. It’s also his birthday today, now all grown up and 32 years old. Many chapters have passed since then.

Happy birthday to him, my brother.

She’s doing quite alright without me

Sometimes I meet my ex. Often it deals with coordinating things with the dogs. Taking them somewhere or driving them somewhere. I’m fine with it. I’m happy to help.

And you know what, she seems fine. She looks upbeat these days. She talks like she have often done in the past, and she doesn’t seem to be in a troubled state of mind. Not that I notice anyway. Maybe she is doing alright after all? Maybe she doesn’t miss me one bit now, and feel really good about her decisions. Maybe she is happy for me, and have moved on. I guess she did that a long time ago? I guess we have that distance now where we used to know each other well, and the present “us” doesn’t do that anymore. It doesn’t really give me any issues thinking about that, and I am settled with it. If I do miss her, I do not miss the present her. I simply miss the scenario of the past I guess. It’s more about me than her. But I do miss someone that understands me like she used to do. Someone that gives me different form of respect than I experience these days. And when we speak, we are still on the same level. I notice that at once. Things I didn’t even think of before.

But there’s still pain. A few weeks ago I was at a friends house listening to music and I put on this song which have basically come to represent our break up and my situation at the time. The song got me really down. It was hard picking myself up from it again and continue playing songs and drinking beer. I am amazed how these handful of songs can affect like this still. These songs gives me a horrible feeling. Here’s the interesting part – I often myself reaching for these songs to play them. Like a morbid curiousity because I know it have a certain affect on me. But my friend is no different. He had refrained from watching a few concert videos from 2017 because after that concert he met someone that truly fucked him over. And so he never watched those videos because he was scared it might mentally fuck him up.

So I’m not the only one, I just never experienced it at this massive level of emotion before.

So, I guess she’s alright then. She looks to be. I hope she is. I am sometimes filled with guilt over finding a bit of happiness and even becoming a parent. Like I shouldn’t be allowed to when she is not a mother herself. There’s no point in having this form of guilty conscience, but I still have it. I wish her all the best and I am still sad on her behalf. Sometimes I feel I might be more down about it than she is. I don’t know.

If my daughter ever comes home one day with heartbreak; all I can tell her is that it will get better. Tomorrow, in a week or in six months. Maybe it will take a year even, but everything does get better. You take a punch, you might go down, but you find a way back into standing upright again somehow. With time. That I know.

And for my extremely intelligent and pretty, exotic foreign girl; you are truly one of a kind. I do miss our friendship.

Summer aftermath

Earlier this year I wrote this https://severeddreams.wordpress.com/2019/07/03/the-cabin-a-cultural-golden-ticket-to-high-status/ about an upcoming stay at a cabin belonging to her family.

Now, the results are in, and the aftermath have already taken place.

I have been quite open about what I have been worried about concerning these cabin stays. In short, it comes down to the lack of proper private sphere and the lesser availability of hygiene. During my stay, even some of the others involved admitted the place was too small for the amount of five adults and three children.

But I also discovered other challenges I had during my stay.

I felt I had very little control over my own days. I was always following someone elses plans or agenda (or lack of). If we we’re going out for a trip, it was someone else saying this would be the activity. Whatever it was, I was simply degraded to a follower of someone elses ideas and schedule. I am not used to this. I have always been my own boss, and if not I have always been asked or been taken into consideration when theres plans to be made. With this, it felt I came last. I was simply part of other peoples plans. Today we go to the beach, today we go for a boat ride, today we don’t know what we’re doing…and so on.

I told my girlfriend about this, and I said I wanted more part in planning these days for next year. Maybe I want road trips to certain coastal towns, or visiting my aunt down south. I want plans settled and decided for. These days are important. Apperantly, she can’t really give straight answers about making plans because it’s like she doesn’t want to plan big things except things that will happen a short amount of time ahead.

Like an example;

If I suggest a hike to a certain mountaintop. Instead of saying yes, she hesitated and talks about another mountain instead that she feels is nice (nicer?). And so I tell her that mountain is nice as well, and I’m up for it – but that means automatically the burden of planning is on her now and not me as my suggestion was halfways voted down. I have no inside knowledge of her mountain which means it will be on her. And so, we often simply end up not doing anything at all because she is not at her best if planning ahead is involved.

When we got back home after our cabin stay she was in a sombre mood. In the end, she got mad because I wasn’t willing to say I loved going swimming in the ocean. I don’t. But, in the end it’s just a symbol of her disappointment. I have never really liked swimming. She accused me of going too quiet and simply being annoyed during our stay. She wanted confirmation on confirmation that I enjoyed my time.

Did I?

Yeah, sometimes. Not always. Not when I felt I was panicking because I had no space to think. Not when I felt I couldn’t even take a shower because no one else did. And I clearly remember someone else being grumpy – and vocally grumpy at that. Since everything is being compared to this individual, I did the same back. I said he was grumpy, and much more than me.

And so she came to attack the core of me, as I have written about here; https://wordpress.com/post/severeddreams.wordpress.com/1511

She attacked the airshow. MY airshow. My holy four days abroad with my father and brother. Those days that cannot be altered. The weekend I can’t find a middle road on. It is mine, but anyone can come. Those that respect me and my interests and wants to get to know me, they can all come. Anyone can come. She don’t want to come. I suspected so, and early on told her she didn’t have to go. She proceeded to attack the event itself without knowing anything about it. How it was just for old men. How it wasn’t a family thing. How it was about looking at old aircraft. I got mad. Very mad. Bullshit! All of it!

In the end, she apologized, but damage has been done. How disrespectful is it really to not accept my four days and to equally expect me to accept her three weeks at the cabin. How rude! The cabin is HER airshow, and I’m trying my best. She’s not even trying to adapt to my life. My narrative. My interests. She just expects me to be all in love with this cabin and I have constantly told her my challenges with it.

And so I expect this scenario to play out once again come this next January. I want to plan ahead, she doesn’t. I want to go to the airshow, she wants to go to the cabin. I accept her cabin and two weeks minimum there, but she doesn’t accept my airshow. And so I have to quite frankly beg for forgivness because I want to go. It shouldn’t be necessary.

The Third Age of Mankind (part 5)

I don’t know why we stopped by Athens, Texas. I thought we had been going northeast, not southeast. The alternator belt on her car kept dropping off, which meant we had to turn back and pick up from from anywhere it fell off. It happened a few times. And so we slowly made our way across the huge plains of Texas. I thought we were going towards her hometown and her parents house, and maybe we were, it’s almost twenty years later I discovered we were taking a good de-tour.

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We fixed the car outside a Taco Bell restaurant in Athens, and was on our way soon enough. At some point we stopped at a gas station, and while her boyfriend et. al was out looking to buy dope, I made a much welcomed call to my mother. She sounded stressed on the phone. She had been trying spiritually get in touch with me by thinking «please call home, please call home». Maybe it worked, and I finally did call. It surpised me though, these peoples relationship to their parents. It didnt look like they cared about their parents, and wanted nothing to do with them. That was the impression I got. I didn’t understand, as I always had a very good relationship to my parents.

I guess we turned north at some point because we finally made it her hometown. In the meantime, her boyfriend had lost his job at some fast food joint because he didn’t make it back to his shift in time. Yeah, I guess it’s this easy in Texas – to get and loose a job. We were not heading back to her parents house though, but to a friend of theirs living basically out in the woods. At three in the morning, we were almost there when the alternator belt fell off again. This time we could not find it, so we had to push the car the rest of the way to his house. The friend of theirs was surprisingly still awake playing some MS-DOS based drug dealing game, and so we were to spend the night (what was left of it) there. I tried to fall asleep on the floor, but her boyfriends smug smile meant he had other plans. «Do you mind if you take the sofa? We have some catching up to do,» he said – meaning they would share the matress on the floor while I slept on the sofa two meters away. ‘Catching up to do’ he said. I always suspected he wanted to mark his territory, and if that meant what I thought it meant it would be unpleasant. «Okay, just be quiet,» I answered and turned my back towards them, positioning me on the sofa. I heard they had a few puffs of pot before I noticed a few odd sounds. But, surprisingly they fell asleep quicker than I expected.

Before I fell asleep listening to odd sounds coming from the floor, I asked myself a question. Just how on Earth did I end up in a dense forest in Texas, sleeping on sofa belonging to a strange pot riddled teenage boy with what I thought was best friend and her boyfriend  doing God knows what on the floor just meters away?

I had no idea.

I slowly started to think more strategically, because this didn’t go as planned. Then I fell asleep.

To be continued…

The Third Age of Mankind (part 2)

Between my internet best friends visit in the summer of 2000, and my visit in the summer of 2001, several things happened. While our e-mail conversations continued as before, there were a few bumps along the way.

First of all, she returned to Texas after our summer together, and started college. She did not, to my naive surprise, dump her boyfriend. Again being naive, I asked what we should do considering we acted as a couple for those days. I honestly don’t think «fooling around» was in my vocabulary. If something like this went down, it was obviously serious. When she replied saying «that’s that» to my question if we should continue this or say that’s that I was surprised. Only a fool would be surprised, but I was. The fact she actually had any form of physical contact with this guy gave me a surprise. It’s one thing to be naive, but this was way beyond being naive. But hey, she was physically far away, and it didn’t bother me as much as another subject which came up a bit later on.

From my side on, I was approached by a girl at work. She was 17, in a relationship, but eager to at least officially dump him to be with me. I hesitated. First of all because she wasn’t very attractive, but the prospect of more of this fooling around made up my mind. And, so, for a few months in the begininng of 2001 I was in a relationship. It didn’t last long because she decided to revert back to her ex-boyfriend (or was it another guy – I can’t recall). It didn’t bother me much really.

What did bother me immensly was the fact that my Texas best friend was now indulging in drug use. While it was nothing more serious than pot smoking, my ideology at the time was a complete zero tolerance towards all of it. Even alcohol. Don’t ask me why, it simply felt scary and silly. I wanted no part of it.

When she told me that she and her newly found group of male friends (including her seven year older boyfriend) smoked dope, I was heartbroken. I thought we had common ground on the subject. A sort of «the two o fus against the world and against the trends of society» and now she had betrayed me. I didn’t know much about pot. At that time, it was almost unheard of where I came from. Alcohol was the main choice of drug. I had simply heard all these bad things about it, and I was scared of it. But, most of all, I felt simply betrayed. Now it was just me. She had found herself a boyfriend, a couple of friends and started college as well. She had, even if still being very low on confidence, moved on. I had not.

I remember taking the bus homewards that day when she told me this, and all I could do was to stare out in a complete blank all the way home.

In hindsight, and not being THIS naive any longer, it all looks really silly, but to me back then this was very serious stuff. However, we continued talking like normal. Our friendship online seemed to be somewhat intact, and there was nothing but excitement about my visit in the summer of 2001. I was honestly ignoring the fact that there was another guy involved, and a visit from me could make things a bit ugly.

In the spring of 2001, I was slowly preparing for the adventure of a lifetime. Because of embracing this new technology like I had, I was now on the verge of travelling all alone to the United States of America. I was 20 years old. I felt grown up, but of course I wasn’t. I felt I was ready for it – but I wasn’t that either. The journey itself troubled me the most. I was in e-mail communication with SAS on several occations asking about transit time and what not. I didn’t know if my transit time in Frankfurt would be enough or not, and there was no way of knowing except asking. SAS replied that my transit time was within the regulation. I had no idea what they meant, and there was no information available online either. In 2019 of course, you can Google yourself to any answers about transit time and journeys through airports. It wasn’t like that back then. Like I mentioned in my previous post, I even took the bus to the airport to get my bearings so to speak. It didn’t help much, but I walked around the terminal looking at it all for several hours before the bus returned and took me home.

It was soon time to travel to America

To be continued…

The Third Age of Mankind (part 1)

You know, I was there at the dawn of the third age of mankind.

I am sure the creator of Babylon 5 (where this quote originally came from) had a different idea in mind, but in this case – let’s say the invention of the internet led us to the third age of mankind (from the stone age to the industrial revolution to the revolution of communication). The revolution that this technology presented was vast, explosive, and it is easy to forget how much this technology changed our world. And, I was there from the beginning in the mid-90s. When the Internet was new.

The third age of mankind led me across the Atlantic ocean and to Texas, USA. In a country house in this large state sat a teenage girl typing away on her computer every day. She was typing to me. We exchanged e-mails every day. Maybe twice a day. In the end, I knew her better than anyone else I had known. Two lonely teenagers with an ocean between them, but only seconds away with the new technology at hand.

I can’t point to the exact time we first started to talk, but I was still in high school. I am not quite sure if I had finished my second year or not, but it might have been in the summer of 1998 we first exhanged e-mails. Maybe it was before that. I wish I had saved all those long conversations, but I simply dropped the ball and lost them. One of the few things I haven’t been able to digitaly save from all my computers since 1996.

We became best friends. She was low on confidence, and so was I. She seemed shy, quiet, but yet reflective and thoughtfull. We shared similiar interests in science fiction, aviation, music and had a certain destructive bitterness towards society (but yet different societies that seperated us culturally). We thought we were alike, and maybe we were – but maybe we weren’t. I still don’t know.

We kept on writing for at least two years. Every day a new e-mail. One time, I’m sure it was in the summer of 1999, she called me on our house phone. I was still living at home, and my mom picked up the phone. She freaked out because there was a foreigner on the phone, and she wanted to speak to me she said – all in English. I found support in her (like she did with me) and she made me feel like a normal guy when I was not. I wasn’t doing what my peers were doing. I was digging into my own nerdy subjects, ignoring the more general topics and activities such as drinking, partying and being social. They bored me, or maybe they made me feel scared. Maybe it was all of it combined. Maybe it was a result of going to high school where 14 out of 16 classmates were girls. And at that age, they had no interest in me. And so, the geek that I was could not get my way with the girls. I didn’t like them either, those girlie classmates. They seemed dumb. My Texan friend however, was not. She understood me, and I understood her. Like friends was supposed to do.

Two years passed, and I moved out of my family home and to an extremely small apartment about an hours drive south (felt like a million miles away) to start an apprentice job. Alone. Again I ended up working with an all female crew. I didn’t know anyone, and couldn’t find a way to meet any friends (and didn’t try either). I had her, and she had me. E-mails. Long E-mails. Every morning when I woke up, I started my PC and opened up an e-mail from her. It was routine.

In the summer of 2000 she came to visit. I was on holiday, but did not go home. I stayed in my small apartment waiting for her and her Swedish aunt to turn off the main road, and onto the driveway next to my place. I was inside when I’m fairly sure I was sent a text from her saying she was outside. I opened the door, saw their car immediately, and out of the car she came. We hugged. I remember being so excited my legs could barely hold me up. It was July, and I remember hat day was pretty warm. And so we went for a walk together towards the center of town.

I remember sitting on a bench somewhere in the main street of this small town just talking. Just picking up from where we left off on our last e-mail.

That night, I let them have my apartment and I slept in an even smaller apartment I had been living in that first year as an apprentice as I still had the key. I don’t know much much I slept that night, but it wasn’t a lot. She told me the next day she hadn’t slept much either.

It didn’t take too long before we got a bit more physical. Holding hands and kissing. Except for kissing a girlfriend a few times at the age of 12, this was all brand new to me, and it was EXCITING. The underlying problem with all this romance was that she actually had a boyfriend back home. This confused me because if she actually cared for him, why was she kissing me? I figured he was not of importance (she was – after all – all over me) and just went with it. She’s married to him to this day and age, so I misunderstood that whole deal a little bit.

We had four fantastic days together that summer of 2000. To many, (I’m sure including my current girlfriend), this sounds like no big deal and something young people simply do all the time, but to geeky me it meant the whole world. My best friend from Texas was with me, she was kissing the hell out of me, and I could finally experience some of that these girl classmates of mine were talking about all the time. Today, I don’t remember anything else but those four days from the summer of 2000, but the memory of those four days meeting my online friend is burned into my memory.

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When she left and arrived back in Texas, we started talking like the routine was once again. We quickly decided that I would come visit her in the summer of 2001 (which is basically what this set of posts will be about) and I bought tickets with Lufthansa via SAS’ internet system that fall. I remember it being about 8000 NOK for the round trip to Dallas, and being fairly nervous about the transit and flight because I had not once travelled anywhere that far, and certainly not alone. I remember I even took the bus to the main airport once during a day off in the spring of 2001 simply to get my bearings! Not that it helped much!

However, during the fall of 2000 and spring of 2001, a few things would happen that would eventually lead to an end of e-mails and close friendship. But, I would still make the trip as we were still talking and still being best friends ignoring those issues that arose.

To be continued.

A phenomenon I can’t describe

There is one experience I’ve had I find extremely peculiar. I would like to write it down before the memory gets too old, and I start to question the reality of it. It has not happened before or since, and it did not happen at the time when I (perhaps) needed it the most. I find that interesting. If it was all in my mind, why wouldn’t this phenomenon have come at the time when I was asking for it? Because I sort of was later on. I was begging for it come back. But it didn’t. It sort of came unexpectedly, stayed, and then left again. I have no other explenation for it. Just to write this down feels weird because the entire feeling or essence of it is so weird I have a hard time understanding it or reflecting on it. I want it to be true, but I can’t say it was true. But then again, what is truth? Millions of people walk around this Earth thinking God is truth. That this entity truly exists and no one raises an eyebrow because of it. But, I have another story – and if all these people can boast their belief like that, why can’t I tell my story?

I don’t know when exctly it happened, but it was some time in the spring of 2016, and it stayed with me for a month or two. I was still living in my old home, with my now ex-wife. I had not done anything yet about moving and so on. No one knew what was going on except for a dear friend of mine. I just carried on my life as normal, but I was using my brain extensively to come up with some form of solution to everything that would make sure I came out alright. I didn’t really know what was in front of me. I expected things to be easier than it was in the end as well.

But something happened during those days of spring. I could feel someone else around me. I didn’t see anyone, but I had this peculiar feeling of a presence. I felt it was a grandmother personality, and I was so sure that I knew who it was; my grandmother on the mother side. And through those days I was overrun by love and care that (to me) felt like it came from somewhere else than myself. Her love and care went through me, and out the physical way of me. A deep care for my own mother appeared like nothing I had ever experienced before. It was like she reflected herself through me. It was all new to me. At that point it was like I was coming to know my grandmother again, and better than I had been when she was alive. It was a very strange feeling. When writing this, I have a hard time simply using the right words for what came over me.

Driving home from my parents place a Saturday evening, I was thinking about how they didn’t know anything about what was going on in regards to my wife and so on, and like lightning a sentence just hit me; «But I know whats going on!». It was like she spoke to me. I guess to comfort me, to tell me she was there and that I could find support in her. I have no other word for it. It was like my physical body was being used to mirror her love for me, for the family and for my mother.

Like I said, it has not happened before or since. Even if the days after the experience was worse. It did not come back when my daughter was born either. It was just those weeks in the spring of 2016. I can’t call upon that entity or feeling. It came, stayed with me and then left – and it told me it was my grandmother. I can’t evoke it again.

Most people would choose to believe it, or choose to reject it. I choose neither. I take it for what it is. An experience. Was it real or was it just my brain playing tricks? It doesn’t matter, because it helped me. And it was a great experience. I hope to have it again some day. I leave everything else open.

But, if it was like my soul tells me – I give her my warmest thanks. I noticed you, and I felt you. Thank you. I miss you.

I am not made to be social

«How come you do not have friends over?» was the question she asked me.

Honestly? Because I’m too tired to be social. My work is so socially intense that the last thing on my mind when coming home is having people over. It completely drains whatever energy I have left. And when weekend comes along, I’d often rather be left alone. Alone with my child, a good TV documentary or a long walk/bikeride.

I spoke about this (social life) with one of my friends the other day. Our social relationship doesn’t revolve around social gatherings at each others houses drinking coffee and talking about people we know and do not know. No, we are social on the football pitch – talking football, discussing light matters that both are comfortable with. We don’t need more than that for our friendship to work. It is, in fact, the only thing we need. With other friends I have other «deals». Sports, music, drinking, online discussions. I don’t need more. I don’t want more. I don’t want to sit around with my brother doing nothing than talking. No, with my brother I go on bike rides talking about Strava. That’s all that I need. Or go to England in July discussing aviation.

I come from a house (where I used to live) where there was no huge social activities going on. The odd visits from my parents, maybe some people over now and again. Not often at all. Maybe no more than once a month. I was pleased with this. It meant I could recharge my draining batteries. I understand now that I was extremely lucky considering how my energy levels drop like a stone these days. It fit me perfectly. Perfectly. I like to endulge myself into my hobbies and thoughts, not to sit around talking with others at all times.

A social life is not something everyone needs or wants. I like my friends, I enjoy their company, but from time to time I often find online friends where I can simply type up a few sentences and have a proper conversation much more convenient. Where I don’t need to continusly try to make up conversation topics (of most which usually bore me). It is more straight to the point, more honest and more relaxing.

It is often the undefined and the things you are not aware of that comes and suckerpunches you. The dramatic increase in my social life is exactly that. I am just someone that have to go along with this ride and adapt. A Mother and father-in-laws (two mother-in-laws actually), her friends here and there – people over, people staying for too long too my taste. Sometimed 16 hours of non-stop socializing. It wears me completely out.

I am not made to be that social. Not in this field of work.

Do not attack the core of me

We ended up in a heated discussion the other day. In front of parts of her family. I just couldn’t help it. Enough is enough. I could not tolerate her attitude towards computers and social media like it’s all the devil works. Like nothing about it is positive. I know where she got it from (her mother) and I know her level of knowledge of this subject (none).  I was pissed because she buggered into a subject she knew nothing about, and I was pissed because she even had the nerve to suggest I lacked friends because of the internet. I was pissed because she suddenly tried to put words into my mouth, and be the judge of things she knew nothing about. In fact, I am still pissed off, but I try to act content. The self restraint I have to be in charge of when she sets out in one of her uneducated and prejudice rants towards the internet and social media is beyong anything I have ever experienced in this matter before.

I know she’s wrong, and I have the data and the research to back it up – but she won’t listen. And when she makes it personal, I explode. I can’t handle it. I have always lived under the rule of not trying to have strong opinions on subjects I know little about –  but rather learn about it before talking and having an opinion.

But there’s more to it than that. With everything unravelling in 2016-2017 I lost much of myself. With this relationship I have gained so much, but I am holding for dear life onto what makes me being me. I lost one dog and partly another dog due to all these circumstances. My greatest interests have taken severe blows. My interest in music is being attacked (and I feel it is almost being mocked) yet again by opinions of the uneducated. My interest in history is present, but not understood – only accepted.

Football is not understood. I have explained that football is part of my social life. There’s very little coffee and sofa conversations in my life as part of my social life – it is often found through an activity. Football, aircraft, music. I have explained this several times.

I have told her several times I am not typical local or Norwegian even – I am through the internet and past experiences – international. She referred to both her ex boyfriend and her sisters boyfriend to underline her argument that it is more normal to have social life where people “stop by”. But, I don’t want them to stop by. I work in such a social job that I want time off being social. And simply to use an ex boyfriend to underline a point is not what I consider good behavior. But now I’m venturing off topic.

I think one of the main reasons why I react so vividly to these types of opinions about social media and the internet is because I am fighting for the core of myself. What I am. I am not to loose anything else that defines me as a person and what I am. I have lost enough as a it is, a complete change from 2015 to 2019. Four years. A complete change. I don’t want to loose anything more of what I was. I want only to gain, not to loose. Many of my biggest achievements have come through the internet. I am extremely proud of my achievements, and if they come under attack I will respond with all guns blazing. Do not touch them.