🔥Resurrection

I don’t want to turn this into one of those blogs that like to scratch and cut open their wounds, but since WordPress is interested in my response to this question, here it is. When I thought about it during my walk today, Nightwish – End Of All Hope started playing (my main playlist is set to random). It almost perfectly suits what I’m writing. If you don’t want to check it out, that’s fine 🙂 But if you like it, you’ll know.

I’m good at resurrection. In my previous post, I discovered so many heart-warming comments about being content with simple pleasures, being inspiring, having beautiful outlook on life and being normal (though what is normal?). It was amazing and very supportive – thanks for being here for me 🙂 I’m glad to receive all these kind words and treat it as a sign of my own mental health-related progress 🙂

I wasn’t always like that. In all honesty, most of my life, I was deprived of simple pleasures, calmness, sanity, support, and care. I’m a person who literally ate paper, or flower mixed with water (fried or cooked) because of starving and having no other choice. I was told that I don’t deserve to be loved, wasn’t hugged, and was constantly told that I was boring, monotonous, and worse. There were much darker days, though. In my own home, where I should have found safety.

I never found any support or contentment outside home, as I was bullied at school (I constantly cried, so children thought it was funny), and then at my first University. It was a nightmare on Earth, and my love relationships before I met my husband were highly toxic. I wasn’t good at ending them (by that I mean being with someone who mistreated me for 3.5 years because I was insanely afraid to break up and literally hating the hell out of him).

I cried for months curled on my sofa, and then, all of a sudden, I had so much energy burning inside me, sizzling, dazzling, making me tremble and lie awake all night due to insomnia. During the daytime, I walked—no, I flew—from one end of the city to the other, winged and drunk on heavy music playing in my ears. For about 8 hours or so, I almost ran through the whole city, crossing it over and over. No one cared.

People used to call me weak back then, but then I started hearing different opinions:

“She is so different from you. You don’t accept her, but she never stops being herself. She is very strong in her own way.”
“You had a terrible start in life. How did you turn out so warm and empathetic?”
“You were broken so many times. Why do you still hope, believe, and trust people?”

Because I had no other choice. It was always so simple: either I fall down and die, deprived of even a glimpse of hope, or only a small part of me will die this time, but I’ll change and resurrect again and again, be reborn and continue to hope, to dream, to see some sense, to find more sense, and finally to discover some higher sense in what surrounds me.

And it helped me to go on. To open up to this world like a flower each time it is touched by sun rays. To get up after failures, and and not afraid of building something new. To find joy in the simple things finally, because even simplicity is transcendent with divinity, with spirit, with the Higher Sense. I see its reflection in all: in love, in books, in discussions, in art, in flowers, in sea waves, in music, even in good food.

The Higher Sense. That is why I’m into spirituality and magic so much—I tried different approaches and I found my own way of talking with the Absolute, eventually. Nonetheless, I respect other people’s approaches and beliefs. We each have our own way of talking with the Absolute. This helped me to go on, rise again, and resurrect when I was surrounded by darkness, despair, and destruction.

“And in this connection with something that reaches far beyond the limits of human existence, way beyond the limits of everyday life, I finally understood what I really always wanted: to experience again and again this moment, the delight of being the one with the immensity and elusiveness of the Universe. To be deprived of this feeling – the very experience of its absence – means loosing the only link to the world that goes beyond the illusory mundane reality, be confined to remaining in a meaningless dream that is already inexorably coming to an end….”

I wrote it 10 years ago, it is a translated quote from my old short story “Escape”. But it is true even today. I am like a lighting bulb which is always connected with the current (magic/divine), therefore I’m good at resurrecting, changing, resisting, shading old skins, believing, seeing wonder in small things, getting better, accepting my emotions and desires, appreciating, empathizing…

I will always rise again, from dust, from coals, from suffering. I’m good in resurrecting. Just my eyes are a tiny bit sad sometimes.

All pictures were generated by me in WordPress AI picture generator, though I should admit that I liked Deep AI versions of me better, anyway I was inspired by Laura and decided add a personal touch to my posts 😀

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You can contact me via leomoria93@outlook.com