A picture of me from 2014, during Vappu

I once celebrated Vappu with a gigantic bruise on my face! My whole jaw was hurting, and I tried to eat a hamburger - big mistake! But I survived.

Soon I'll go out to celebrate Vappu again. Take care.

Can you see all the green and yellow colours that goes down my jaw and neck? Yeah, that was my bruise. Lol.

Writing

Any day now I've rewritten and edited 100 A4-Word pages of the sequel of my book.

I can't remember when I wrote the first draft, a guess is 2015 or 2016. What I realized now, the second time I wrote the same scenes, the same themes, the updated dialogues, is that I've become better at writing emotional pain.

All these 100 pages are permeated with emotional pain that was not there in the first round. The characters suffer more from emotional violent.

I rewrote one of the main characters as depressed, whereas he in the first version wasn't. It wasn't a conscious decision to make him depressed, it was a subconscious thing. And it became good.

Don't worry, there'll be a happy ending. I'm not usually a fan of happy endings, but after all this torture they're going through, it'll be a relief when the ending is happy.

But one of the main characters will die before we reach the happy ending.


Ahaha, I love writing. I love being a god and having character's fates in my hands. I decide who dies and who survives.

I love it.

Free. (revisited post from 2017)

Revisited post from 4.9.2017


I am currently reading a study about self harming, the whole "culture" around it and so forth and yes I am triggered by it and no I have not cut myself even if I think about it sometimes.

But it feels like I have missed something, like, when I felt like the worst piece of shit ever I should've cut so much that I would've needed help, so I now can say "I was there and now I am strong enough to not to".

And I know feelings like these are wrong and stupid and if anyone got to know abt them I'd get so scared. Scared they'd label me as one of them.

THEM.



Welcome to the cheerful mind of mine in late 2017!

I remember it clearly, the day I found that book about an ethnological study. I was in the university library and was looking for a book with my friend, when I by accident stumbled upon a study about self harm. I remember feeling the blood pressure slowing down in my body. It's a weird feeling when your body gets all stiff with exitement. Without questioning anything I borrowed it.

I read it like possessed in buses and at home. I just had to read it as quickly as possible. The book/study has 300 pages, and I swallowed those pages at a rapid speed.

I was obsessed with the thought of cutting. I had been obsessed with it for many years, probably already five years as of 2017. You readers of all, you're the only people who know about it, because I haven't since I was 20 cut myself, but I have thought of doing so a lot. And when I say a lot, I mean it. If I wouldn't have a partner I'd probably actively cut myself, because hiding the cuts would've been so easy.

So now, bc I don't have any visual scars, no one knows, and no one would probably believe me anyways. 

Besides having a partner who sees me naked, what is the other reason for not cutting? Well, because I know it's wrong. I know it's stupid. I know it hurts.

So that leaves us with the biggest question: why the fuck do I want to slice up my skin??

Answer: Because I have tricked myself into believing it's good. I write "good" because I can't come up with the word I'm looking for, in none of the languages I know. What I mean is the feeling when the brain releases serotonin as a reward for something. 

I get an adrenalin kick from just imagining blood running out of my boody, esp the arms. Sick. Ever since I was 13.

I have actively fought against this drive to harm myself, actively fough against getting a reward for doing so! And now, who knows how many years later, the fighting is finally paying off! I do not longer daydream about cutting myself (at least not currently) and I haven't scratched my skin in many, many weeks.

(Scratching was what I did instead of cutting, because the marks disappear within a day.)

If I was to read that study again, I'd probably get triggered again and start to daydream about self harm. Yet I want to buy that book. It was so well written and honest and truthful and everything girls suffering from self harm would want the outer world to know about them.

But right now, I'd say I'm free. Free from the active wish to loose blood. Free from staring at my wrists, imagining cuts in them. Free from the moral debate in my head.

Free.

Revisited post from 2015 (long post)

Let's revisit some old posts! This post is still to this day my most read post (I don't get how people find this post from four years back, but hey, nice for you!). This was also my first post in English on this blog.

11.3.2015

I started to think of how much the world (everything) of Alice in Wonderland has shaped me into the one I am. I don't mean that AiW is or was the biggest thing in my life, but always, always when I've seen gifs, pictures, anything connected to AiW, I've felt like coming home.

It started when I was 9, and the theatre association I had joined the year before put up Alice in Wonderland as show. Of all the people there, of all the 13-20+ years old there, I, who was NINE at that point, got the part as the Red Queen.

I loved playing the Red Queen, getting to shout and all (I'm loud okay?) and ever since then, Wonderland has been a home to me. It welcomes me back, always. But what is it that really haunts me from this universe?

I'd say it's the gore. You may wonder which gore I'm talking about, and I'll answer you Madness Returns.

Madness Returns is a game that touches Alice, 19 years old, who suffers several mental diseases after her family got roasted alive while their house burned down. Only Alice herself survived. Now, as an almost grownup she has horrible hallucinations and gets to Wonderland where everything is horror and gore.

Best game ever made.

I even created a small play about it when I still was in the theatre school. It was pretty horrible, where I acted as Alice and my friend as Dr. Bumby and one was the Mad Hatter and another one was Nanny, The story was kindof copied from the game, but not entirely. Well, I think it actually was pretty cool, but as usual everyone else was freaked out and apparently my wrist snapped loudly when my friend grabbed me by it, and the teacher said it was scary (which she used to say about anything I created).

But I can't help but feeling welcomed to that mad place. Somewhere gore. It's so hard to explain but sometimes there is this one place you want to belong to, wether it is New York och Middle Earth. And Wonderland is kind of my place.

A place I can never visit.

As I wrote in 2015, I have always loved Alice in Wonderland. I don't like the animated Disney movie that much, or even the live action movies (most thanks to Johnny Depp, he's too overrated), but the concept of Alice in Wonderland is SOOOO... WONDERFUL! I love the mystery around it. The game that I refer to in that post was a great horror game I gamed for many years (I was pretty slow when it came to finishing it), 2012-2015. I own the art book of that game.

Still to this day I love that game and the horror it brought to the audience. Making children shows/concepts into straight K18-art is my cup of tea! It welcomes my creaticity, and thus, also me.

I even has this blog called "my Wonderland" y'all!

And as for the theatre part of that post (because I will never shut up about theatre), I wrote there that the play was horrible, but as I remember it, it wasn't THAT bad, but my friends couldn't hold up my pace. They didn't understand why I wanted to make a horror Alice in Wonderland with them (even if all of them were of the more skilled teenagers there) and with the very limited time I failed to explain my vision to them.

My vision. That was all it was about. What I wanted, not what they wanted. This trio followed every step of mine at the theatre during that year. And they wanted be to tell them what to do. I'd like to think they liked my visions, even if they didn't always understand them.

There's two theatre's in that post, I was only a child when I was part of the earlier theatre. I was the second youngest of the whole ensamble (where the majority were teens or young adults) and I got that big part. Imagine my pride.

Anyways, I still love Alice in Wonderland to this day :D

More memories

It was fun to scroll through my archive at tumblr, and read posts from a long time ago. I'm going to share some of them for you here.

26.8.2011

"I did not find anything to reblog, so I will tell spit out some emotions.

People come across me as a happy person. I am. I really love living and I am trying to make the best out of the worst. Always. 

But this may also be one of the downsides of me, I never want to talk about my feelings. Never. This is making me collect less nice feelings inside me. And most of them are about different people I’ve loved. Ex'es and ex bestfriends. People who hurted me in the past. And I am easy to hurt, but I never show hurtness. I am a stoneface, the always happy girl.

Though the years past since my heart been shattered, the heart is healed. Nothing is missing from my life, but my memories are taking too much space in my brain. Memories from one boy and another girl.

No. I don’t need you in my life. Both of yours memories are stealing my time. I am strong without you. "

My tumblr was/is usually my happy place, so for me to write this kind of text was unusual. I must've been really down when writing this. Too sad though that the girl writing that text is about to get way more hurt by the ones she, when she wrote this, considered her friends.

10.9.2013

"Do you ever just get the feeling of being in love, but you’re not sure if you’re actually IN LOVE with that person, but you care enormosly about that person and just want to cuddle him to death and have sex.

Maybe it’s just me.

I know this particular guy is not interested in me in that kind of way and I accept it. As I stated before, I’m not even sure if I love this person or even like him in that kind of way.

Just that I care about this person more than I ever imagined I would. I want him as a friend with benefits. Or I don’t even know. How the hell am I suppose to know the differens of being friend and being interested. I should know this, I’m a fucking adult already. Oh crap!"

This post was dedicated to the one person who saved me from lonelyness my last year in upper secondary school. At this moment I was already suffering in school, and he was there for me. I fell for him, hard. He told me he wasn't interested in a relationship, or in me. It was hard to digest. 

And finally, a part of a questionaire (get to know the blogger-concept) that summoned my 2012, written 5.1.2013:

"Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2012. - Always try your best, but the higher you fly, the harder you fall."

I was still heartbroken when I wrote this. I had a boyfriend in 2012 that broke up with me in November, or December 2012 (can't remember which). I planned a future together with him. I flew too high, and fell too hard in the ground when the relationship was ruined.

Writing a blog on the internet is actually quite valuable. You get small glimpses of memories of your old life.

I will do another one like this, but with posts from this blog. You haven't probably followed this blog since it's beginning, so I'll do a rundown with some of the posts here and explain them to you.

So tune in in a couple of days to see the an old post re-visited :)

All that matters.

I am alive.

That's all that matters.

I work and work and work and guess what, I love it. I love my students. I love talking to an audience. I love being on stage. I love helping the students, increasing their self-esteem.

Even if the thought is sad, I loved the sad look on my students faces when I told them I'm quitting. They were genuinely sad that I wont come back after summer. I'm sad too, ofc. I like them. But it felt very satisfying to get assurance, they DO also like me.

So I'm alive to say the least. I feel quite good about myself right now.

That's all that matters.

And to be honest. I'm also happy. H a p p y.

Feels awesome to be happy. After years of sadness, tears and desire to cut myself, I am happy for now.

Wow.

And that is all that matters.

Spring and creativity and a throwback

If you payed attention to my Self Reflections last summer (omg it's almost a year ago I wrote them! wow) you might remember that I, especially as I got older, wrote somewhat about characters and theatre and stuff (well, I write a lot about it anyways)

Ah man, I'm sounding like a broken record

For eight years I had a final drama show sometime during May, and that means that ever since February/March I've had a character and a fate to learn, to feel, to become. Yes, I was one of those annoying guys who sometimes took my own roles too far. I couldn't help it, it was too fun, too exiting, too important for me to become someone else, that I made that someone else me. If it makes sense.

That means, that for eight years, I've had every spring two identities, an imaginary one, and myself. Because I wanted to make my imaginary me, my role, my character, real, I listened to music connected to the fate of the role, I imagined scenes that were not in the real script, I did quite a lot to make myself real.

It also affected the anxiety I tried to unpack to you last post, because after the show, the creativity, the role, died. It was a sad goodbye to the imaginary me, that had been part of me for like two-three months. I did it for eight years. Every spring I had a new baby to develope, to create, to become.

It's like a drug I can't explain. You really feel this other identity inside yourself. It sounds like I'm crazy, and maybe I am.

I remember one kid (one hell of an annoying kid) who joked about becoming her character. I can't remember what role she had, but she was like 10, so it couldn't been something bad, and my boss/co-worker said, in all seriousness: "It's important not to become your role. One should not become the role".

Well, to ME it was important to become what I was portraying. I didn't say anything to her, but I firmly believe she knew. She knew me.

This is the first spring in eight springs I haven't a role to portay, to become. I feel empty. In all reality, I have a role to play, my role as a teacher. It's almost like theatre, and I really like it. I become a more intensive version of myself when I'm teaching, a shadow of my manic acting state, but it's close to acting itself.

Next year I'm probably going to join a theatre.

And to finish this hell of a post I'm going to share something I wrote onto my tumblr January 31st 2012 (seven years ago!):

» I HAVE A ONE-SHOT CHARACTER IN MY HEAD.

Or have I?
I’ve read too much psychology, that’s a fact.
The character was a one-shot I played at theatre on Monday, but somehow the character’s manners are still stuck in my head. Like I have to do something with it. Oh, the creativity is overloading (one problem with being an artist).
Should I even name it? Eli. Comes from a Greek word which means “torch”, or “sun”.
Even though it does not fit the character. Eli is his name (I just decided it is a boy, although the name itself is sexneutral)

So I did all this character-stuff already when I was 16.


See you when I see you

Spring

Most people connect spring to happy feelings, and light and a feeling of freedom or whatever, but do people ever talk about the anxious feeling of emptiness that comes with spring.

It's has nothing to do with the season or the weather, but with the feeling of the life as you know it coming

to an end.

All my life I've felt this small axiety as sun has risen and the weather gets warmer, when the summer is behind the corner and everyone is making plans and dream of warm nights and bonfires and whatnot.

Because something always ends with summer beginning. School ends, and with that, a chapter of my life ends. As a child, I was thinking something along the lines of:

"After this I won't be a fifth grader anymore"

"And now, I will graduate high school, and never attend this school again"

and so on and so on.

But except this inevitable fact I've been scared of summer feirie because I've known I'll be alone. I've known that I wont meet any friends. Friends didn't want to meet me during summer. No one asked. I didn't ask either

And the greatest anxiety of them all.

Will my friends still be friends with me after the summer? Most of the times they were. But in upper secondary school they were different to me after the summer. Like they had made a plan. "Let's destroy her".

So... it's spring now. Weirdly enough, I don't really feel the same anxiety as before. Yes, my work is coming to an end. I would have the chance to continue, but I've decided to finish my studies. I am okay with my life changing right now. That is also weird!

This was a messy post. Sorry. I'll probably write another post with the same topic sometime later and focus on my creative process during spring