1.7.2019

Monday

Some days are impossible like yesterday. My mind is a blank paper – thoughts hidden in heavy mist. Other days feel almost normal. Today. I can live for the first time in three years. My mind is sharp and body not in pain. And I see it in the smallest things.

Today I wrote for two hours. I wrote for two hours in who knows how long time. It has been years. I put on a timer and wrote, wrote, wrote. And then the timer went off, my whole body collapsed, I couldn’t stop crying.

I couldn’t stop crying.

World doesn’t have greater agony than not being able to do what you love the most. Even worse if the reason is your own body. I have always loved writing and then out of nowhere I couldn’t anymore. My attention span would last for 15 minutes most on the good days and those good days were rare. And if my attention didn’t get the best of me, my hands did. I would write for a few minutes only to lose all the strength from my fingers. In case I decided to be stubborn that didn’t matter too much. Not at first. After every word my hands would start shaking and shaking and shaking more.

There were a million stories I wanted to tell. Writing had always been my escape from the darkest moments of my life. But when I needed it the most I couldn’t write.

Today I wrote for two hours and then I cried.

I laid on my floor open laptop marking a few thousand words written. My heart was beating too fast and body shaking from the shock.

My tears weren’t happy nor sad. I didn’t cry for the pure happiness of finally doing what I love nor mourning for the lost years of my youth. My tears weren’t for the life I can finally have – studying writing and maybe making my own book after that. Nor were my tears for the life I may have had if this had never started – being young digital nomad traveling all around the world while writing my book as side project.

I was crying of pure surprise.

I started crying because I hadn’t even noticed the time flying by. Two hours had just vanished to thin air leaving behind words I thought had sounded quite good. But more than anything my tears came because I had just used two hours writing and my body felt okay.

After two hours, I didn’t feel pain, my limbs weren’t sore and most of all I felt normal. I felt like any 24 years old writer after a few hours writing session.

Only a few weeks ago I wouldn’t have believed for this to be possible ever again. My illness had driven over my hope with a truck. I had made myself believe that not writing the novel I had always dreamed of would be okay. I was satisfied with poems and short stories. And that’s why I cried.

Because maybe I can have a real life and try to achieve my dreams like everyone else.

29.6.2019

Saturday

I feel good. Or good for my standards. Not normal yet but good. My health is jumping up and down like crazy right now. Some moments I can’t even stand up while others I feel like conquering the whole world. Better this than living every day in the endless mist of not being able to do anything.

People keep telling me to rest on good days because I’m not yet better. Just going there. And so I just rested, watched some Netflix documentaries and wrote a little bit. Nothing interesting to tell the truth. A first few episodes of this one drama where the protagonist falls for his best friend who would never like him back. I may have cried. Reminded me of my first love.

You have to decide will you keep a friend and be in pain or lose a friend and still be in pain but maybe not so long. Unwanted love. It’s the saddest love on earth. When you love someone you don’t want to. You know they will hurt you million times more even without knowing it.

My heart hurts from the memories of what once was.

At this point I had to go out. The four walls were closing in. Bought Kinder Maxi bars from the store. Saw a girl waving a big flag in pride colors and her friend a little shyer covered in the colors asexuals. If I was braver maybe I would have said hi. Maybe even go to the pride parade. But just maybe things like that aren’t made for socially anxious people to go alone.

So, I spend hour browsing old books in a close-by flea market. Didn’t want to go home. I left only after they shut down the lights.

Sent some messages back and ford with L. She always knows how to make happy even if I feel like we are getting too far apart. Still, I can only be happy – she has found love. I couldn’t share with her that I had been crying for half a day so far.

28.6.2019

Friday

Didn’t leave home today, hiding from the world. Watching Project Runway, trying to write. Laying on the floor in a small nest made of pillows and blankets. Some days are like this. Eating fruit salad and a whole bar of chocolate but not anything else. Three cups of tea. Rooibos and vanilla – in the shop they told me it would make insomnia only a dream of the past. Note to myself, never trust people selling tea. Can’t sleep at night nor at day.

Today was a bad day and there’s all I have to say.

27.6.2019

Thursday

Happiness is spending half of the night shopping second hand books from internet.

My friends and family say I have a problem, maybe so. Last night I ordered 13 books online. This week I have bought 20 new books but I’m quite proud because the total for them has been under 100€. Finding cheap books is my specialty.

And I never buy books I don’t need. All the books I buy are either important, something I can’t get from the library or call for me. My books for last night were mainly about Virginia Woolf. Collection of her essays and letters to go with the diaries I have. Do you ever feel like something is meant to be? Like there something you just have to do? I’m feeling like I have to read everything Virginia Woolf has written about her own life.

The morning after my shopping spree felt deadly. Couldn’t stand up before 4pm. Then went to shower but the floor flooded. Ate old chicken not even warming it up. That kind of day.

But my travel card ends tomorrow and I got email from bookstore to use my bonus credits for them before Sunday. Didn’t even know I had bonuses unused. In fact, it probably made my whole day when the clerk in the shop told me that I had 10€ to use. Got poetry book and book of a woman who travels around Europe to research secret lover of Finnish artist from the last century.

Lately people who travel following trails of historic people have woken my interest. Maybe I want to be one of them? Who knows… I’m still at that stage of my life where I’m not sure what to do. Feels so clear that writing is my thing but I’m interested in everything. Fiction, non-fiction, plays, everything. Everything. I want to write everything.

Today I got new inspiration for a story that I started to write. Group of university friends from different majors coming together. However, one of them falls for another. Unrequited love. “Laughing, joking around and always being there for each other. A perfect tale of friendship. Until one of them falls and feelings get hurt.” I don’t yet know how this story would end.

Do they end together or do they find love somewhere else? But happiness, there has to be happiness in the end.

On my trip to the bookstore I ended up to one of those odd shops almost like a pharmacy but not quite. Asked help to buy tea that helps you fall asleep. Somehow they also sold me 30€ night cream. My stupid anxious self couldn’t say now. This is why I can’t go anywhere…

Peace out!

26.6.2019

Wednesday

Almost put a sweater on today. Regretted it later when it was freezing outside and would have needed that funny text decorating the shirt. Or maybe it wasn’t even cold but we are used to too good. This summer has been too hot and now even the normal temperatures feel deadly cold. I didn’t return home even if that was in my mind.

I waited forever for my tram – first time driving above the ground on this small holiday. For some reason, metro is always my first choice. I fit in best underground.

My only plan for the day was to visit the outdoor flea market but that ended up being a total flop. The windy dark day had driven every vendor away. Talked sometime with an older woman about harlequin novels. Almost bought some but my bags are already full – don’t even know where to put those 5 Virginia Woolf books I bought a few days ago.

Like a true Finn, I didn’t let the cold summer day bother me and lined up to buy ice-cream. Oreo & coconut-melon. Next to me two men ate ice cream talking about the coming Pride parade. “I have never been, not really my thing.” His friend looked so uncomfortable, scared. Old couple in front of us shared toffee ice-cream like teenagers in love.

I wanted to write but ignored my shaking hands.

It was time to walk a long way to metro and home but destiny had other plans. Big museum sign with museum card (allows you a free pass to most museums in Finland) image called for me. Empty museum & me. Walking around so inspiring. In one dark corner was this blue & winged statue. 20 centimeters tall. In a glass box. No head. Angel in royal blue. Why I couldn’t avert my eyes?

Stood there probably like 15 minutes. The employees had already given up and left me alone with irreplaceable art pieces. Darkness, me & blue creature. Had like a million story ideas in my head. A boy walks in the museum, finds a statue that takes him on an adventure.

Continued my way and ended up to 5 more museums.

Is it normal to get inspired by art other people have done? Got to know more about the life of Tove Jansson. She’s a very popular Finnish artist and writer behind the Moomins.

Last stop of my day was Temppeliaukio Church – Top 10 Must See Things In Helsinki/Finland Church. I have a lot of traveler mates who keep asking me why the heck I haven’t visited this place. Now I have. Are you happy?

Temppeliaukio Church is nothing that special. Just a church built inside a rock. There I was merging into a Japanese tourist group like everything was okay. Took some photos. Sat in the last row. Purple seat, extinct candles, no silence. I’m not that religious but visiting churches or religious sites has always been one of my favorite things. The atmosphere holds something special – makes me want to write.

Only at home I realized today was a bad day.

There’s no feeling in my legs. Hands keep missing keys. Couldn’t eat, can’t swallow. For a moment I didn’t even remember if I took the pills this morning. I want to write but my head keeps forgetting words in English and in Finnish. Tomorrow is going to be worse – I can feel it in my bones. Why can’t I just let myself rest when needed? I want to live so badly that it backfires.

Now I will watch Netflix – started Supernatural even if it gives me nightmares. Maybe read a few pages of Virginia Woolf’s first diary. I’m in the year 1917. Her beautiful descriptions of the daily life of two writers have changed to something different. Short, meaningless, like she was trying to hide something. Two years of the diary are missing and Wikipedia tells me she published her first books but also tried to kill herself during that time.

So much can happen in so short time. Where will I be in two years?

25.6.2019

Tuesday

A few days ago I bought the diaries of Virginia Woolf – all five of them published in Finnish. I have never even read novels by this 1900 century (edit: “20th century” I still can’t get this English century bullshit correct…) author but somehow she always appears for me whatever I’m reading or talking with other writers. Surprisingly, I got hooked.

It’s interesting how a woman from hundred years in the past can remind myself so much. Problems with a dysfunctional family, trips to the library, thinking her writing isn’t good enough. But that’s not all. Reading the diaries of so normal things made me want to start again.

When was the last time I wrote diary? It has been too long…

So, two days ago right after buying the books and getting hooked I started my own diary in Finnish, my native language. It felt so good. Just talking about silly useless things and throwing some of my own thoughts in between.

Just now I wrote my new found diary for the third day in a row. It didn’t feel enough. My mind was screaming in English like it sometimes does. Nowadays I feel like I’m bilingual – at least when writing and in my head. That’s why I’m writing this. It feels right. To share my thoughts on the internet.

Right now I’m staying at my sister’s place while she lives at our mom’s because of work. Week of solitude in the big city of Helsinki. I’m feeling kind of lost, to tell the truth.

I really want to run around visiting every possible sight there is to see but my body can’t take it. Feels like every millimeter of me keeps screaming against leaving the bed. I have been on iron medicine for a week now after living three years with chronic illness. My head is getting out of the brain fog but the body can’t keep up.

Despite sleeping in and feeling nauseous I bravely decided to go to museum today. Saw all kinds of traditional Finnish paintings (felt like I was back in school, a good or a bad thing?): Haavoittunut Enkeli The Wounded Angel, Raatajat rahanalaiset, Taistelevat Metsot.

Out of them all my favorite is Akseli Gallen-Kallela’s Aino-taru. In three images this painting tells a story from the Finnish national epic where Väinämöinen tries to get married to a young woman named Aino. However, Aino drowns herself because who would want to marry an old creepy man?

So, maybe this is not my favorite for the story… the truth is that a smaller painting of this Finnish masterpiece hung on my childhood home’s toilet. Takes me back to those good old days.

After my museum day trip, I pleased myself with a stroll around local bookstores. (But didn’t buy anything!) And then it was time to return home or well my sister’s home. How should I call it? There’s still a few hours left this day but I’m probably going to spend it watching Project Runway.

Peace out!