I’m back from Poland after 2 months away, feeling like I’m a world different.
Start missing Poland already.
10 years ago my struggle was to get to Norway. Now, out of it. I give myself 1 year. There’s a lot to do.
But before that …
My mum was here to help us. Turned out we were mutually helping one another. Looking at her I saw clearer many things in myself, how reserved, and shut-down i have been and how bad it is to be so. I take after her many mental features, many of them are unhealthy.
In this 1 month i stayed in poland and had to be the head of our little ‘family’ there, I’ve grown to be in control and responsible, to be active and managing. I feel so alive.
I started speaking the little Polish I could when the situation forced me to. I learnt that I can do so much.
I was very scared before we went on holiday. All the time in my mind was the story of Stephan King ‘The monkey hand’. I read it years ago, never able to shake it off my memory because it was so horrible, so philosophical, so right. What was supposed to be your helping hand turned out to be your disaster. It was exactly like that. And as with all disaster, the only way to get out of it is to reach out your hand down through all that smelly sticky muddy shit and try to find the plug. Only then can you flush it all away.
I started to feel Poland as a part of me. I’m still not sure if it’s the place to be. But not Norway, definitely. Norway is a highly developed country .. in the wrong direction. A snake eating up its own tail. I’m heading back here feeling like channeling myself into water of danger. Here i have to watch my steps all the time, smell the danger in the air, in the smiling faces around me. In Poland I felt freer and safer. The people are real. At least it was the inital impression so far.
So here I am, at the next turn of my life. Such should be life, isn’t it. Never stay the same for too long. My river always flows.