Dear P

A letter to my daughter:

Dear P,

I never thought I would experience unique love which derives from motherhood. It’s a different kind of love and is exclusively available in the Universe. We are all part of of it, creating a wholesome mosaic which consists of miniature elements.

I belong to a highly sensitive, empathetic and extremely receptive group of creatures on this Earth who cannot decide if it’s a curse or a gift to be very perceptive to feelings, sounds, smells and surroundings. My imagination runs high helping me with creativity, my anxiety often kills me with exhaustion of constant worries and my heart breaks into milion tiny pieces seeing others suffering. I mould, shape and live my life the best I can. It has been enriched by you. You are a hard work Munchkin but I would do everything to make you smile. When you had your injections, I cried with you, the…

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Mould it, Shape it

Surreal thoughts

I open the door… off I go… I go back to my inner- self. The nature is calling me, I want to abandon the necessities of existence and embrace the simplicity of my own immaculately woven world- made of intricate loops joined together in a chain of bitter happiness.

Is anxiety a curse or a gift? Maybe both. I was born this way, cursed or gifted? Incurable disease- they would call it many years ago, they would lock you up in the mental institution for being different? What has changed now? The fact that you are different, you can shape it and mould it the way you like. If you look for an affordable mental counseling from the government you won’t receive it unless you are border line suicidal. Cutting costs, you are just a number in the system. Shape it, mould it, live it.