#fantásia

fantezie. fantasmă. fantasmagorie. agonia
lumi
care se întâlnesc fără să se despartă,
visul
a spart deja granițele cu realitatea,
invazia are forma zilei de mâine,
Șeherezada stă derutată într-o
poveste orientală sucită, distopie, citește
în cafea; sfârșitul
nu mai e nici măcar previzibil,
fericirea se mută la mituri personale

un apus, două apusuri, dor
de portocaliul cu subton de roz celest
ce-a păzit nașterea unei povești,
durerea
de sub stern se întoarce spărgând ușa,
cu zgomot, se separă
de liniștea cu care a plecat. prietenie
unilaterală, indivizibilă de ritmul vieții.

o dimineață, două dimineți, ceață.
reflexia din oglindă e tot
ce mai recunosc. corpul meu
singura realitate controlabilă.
cum am ajuns
să nu mai văd decât dezastru
în propria viață?

vina devine materială, un zid
de care mă izbesc cu toată ființa.
6 litere și datoria
de a rămâne. acum mai mult decât oricând
tot ce pot face-i să rămân pe loc
chiar și atunci
când nimeni altcineva nu mai rămâne
mai ales atunci…

fantezia se termină cu mirosul
de pâine caldă și cafea. realitatea
mușcă din ființa mea, lup tânăr și lacom

nu judec. ai plecat
înaintea singurului moment
când aș fi avut nevoie să rămâi,
azi văd lumea cu proprii ochi și știu
că viața mi-a fost miză într-un joc de demult
și că într-o bună zi o să mor,
ca toate femeile din neamul meu,
înecându-mă cu adevărul,
captivă-n propriul suflet pe care
n-am apucat la timp să-l pun pe mut.

You’re only owing to yourself

We live, as mom once said, interesting times. In today’s fast and furious world, one can do with less sleep, but not with less social-media. We talk with our loved ones, read, share photos, music, thoughts with others, and, when we put things this way, social media seems to be an inoffensive, happy place. But this is also the problem.

As going through my own recovery journey, I’ve became fully aware of something that I used to know only as a theory: social media is doing more harm than good in the process.

This happens because no one on social media is really honest. We share the bits that we love from our lives, the highlights, and this is how the fraud begins. We are creating a perfect image for the others, but, in exchange, we tend to forget that they’re doing the same thing. We tend to forget that, for some people, social media is a career, what they do for a living.

And that’s how the harm is done. By comparing our raw, unfiltered real life, with the fake, perfect lives of the social media people. We look up to them, take them as standards, and then we’ll look back at ours and see the huge differences between them.

This is how any progress gets lost in the long run, just because we tend to forget the essential: there are no two recovery journeys alike. Every single one is unique, intimate and special. Share yours if you feel like it, but don’t take other people’s perfect social media lives as goal or comparison terms.

Because, if there’s something worth saying about it, then would be the fact that social media is a very, very powerful tool. It connects different people, different stories, different images form all over the world, in no time. This can make or break any kind of mental progress a person’s trying to achieve, being the main reason why social media should be used wisely.

I don’t say that being active on social media is bad. Actually, I spend a lot of time online. But, as I’ve started this rather uncalled for mental health journey, as old scars have opened again in front of me, hurting, I became more aware of the social media influence on me.

Social media, with all the perfect photographs, fueled my body insecurities. I know, it sounds childish, but being overexposed to so many images of perfect bodies constantly has only made me feel worse about mine. Even if, in the back of my mind, I was totally understanding that some of those perfect bodies are the byproducts of a whole team, usually consisting in fitness trainer, dietician, make-up artist, hairstylist, photographer, and the almighty Photoshop.

Even so, I couldn’t help, but ask myself Why am I not looking like that, or even close, at least? and fantasizing about how my life would be better if I’d be prettier- the social media kind of prettier. That was my revelation moment, when I’ve started to unfollow the accounts that were making me feel bad with the way I look.

And that was also the point where I’ve decided that it’d be a good move to unfollow all the accounts that I recognize having harmful potential. It might not be the easiest decision, but it was one of the best taken on this: to unfollow, unfriend and block every single one that made me feel less than enough.

Because, one of the social media’s wonders is that, even though you’re surrounded by content all the time, you choose what kind of content will surround you. And understanding this was a total game-changer. My feed started to look different: more young artists, more mental-health-supportive, more visual (and in a very, very good way, as I’ve discovered a whole world of photographers and illustrators hidden by all those IG models), and, generally, much more uplifting.

Of course, social media connected me with people that helped me become the individual I am today, awesome people I couldn’t see myself without, but I’ve also met people that, by  having contact with them or simply seeing their posts, were awakening my, so-thought, long time burried unworthiness feelings. But, at the end of the day, when I’ve acknowledged for real what it means that my mental health an well-being are at stake, I’ve managed to understand things at a deeper level. To take them more serious.

By continuously looking for answers, as my mental state was worse, I found some, not only about body image, on my relationship with social media. I’ve discovered that social media has a serious impact. More than I’ve thought before it could have. It brought up strange, yet common mix between addiction, exhaustion and not feeling good enough.

It is easy, when you’re a perfectionist nature, to mix all these things up. You want to get that perfection that seems so achievable  in the online.

Because, if you’d ask me, I’d say that is the biggest problem with social media: that it makes perfection look ordinary. It makes you believe that having the perfect job, perfect body, perfect relationship, perfect outfit, perfect house or vacation is not only something that everyone could reach, but that it is so common, that you must do something wrong somewhere if your life ain’t perfect.

And this could be seriously draining for one’s emotions and psychic, even if that individual faces a mental condition or not. It could, if used carelessly, make the individual develop some sort of condition, in time. This is why we have to change the approach. To post relevant content for who we are, regardless if it is matching the trend or not, and be careful about what messages we receive from the accounts that we decide to follow. Also, there is this little thing that, kept in mind, will certainly do the difference.

The truth is, again, that nothing will ever be perfect. Not in the real, daily life. Here everything has ups, downs and stopping points. We have normal bodies, each of them special and beautiful in its very own way, and lives that can be just as pretty as we allow them to be.

Because, if you get out of the social media thing for a second, you’ll see that the world is still a pretty place, and life is still beautiful. That there are people who genuinely love you and care about you, even if they don’t tag you everywhere, spend every free minute of their lives with you or shower you with gifts. That your followers are not a way to measure your worth as a human. And, generally, that there is life outside the social media, too, and we have to live that.

We have to live it unapologetically, without any kind of filters. To stop trying to please everybody, to speak more of our minds, to share our feelings and thoughts more. Because a life doesn’t  have to be picture-perfect to be worth enjoying it.

Actually, what we see on social media is not a life. Is a collage made of cut-outs. A big painting made of the tiny detalis that used to be the highlights of every day, week, month, year, but arranged in such a way that they’d eventually fit.  Everyone out there is building a social narrative of their lives, based on the moments that made them feel and look good.

Even if they don’t put it on display, people still have bad days, periods when everything seems to be wrong. And it’s ok to be like this, as long as the bad times are part of what it means to be human.

Of course, talking on social media about the struggles of existence is a wonderful trend, that I really hope it would last a lifetime. But, in the meantime, things tend to remain the same as they were when, talking to a friend about what made me write this articles series I’ve told her that I do it because I have nothing to lose anymore. If I’d have the smallest thought that I could lose something, that I would be judged, or that my loved ones or the people whose opinions matter to me would look at me differently, I wouldn’t write a line.

But I have nothing left to lose anymore, so I keep writing, hoping that these pieces of text help. Live the life your own way, and, when you’ll have your next scroll, keep always in mind that what you see on social media and what you get in real life can be two really, really different things. No one has it all, and for sure not all the time, but getting guilt trips over not being able to reach social media’s ideals of living is not a thing we should let happen any sooner.

Scroll down wisely, and keep in mind that the reality happens always offline, what we get on social media are just some beautifully crafted postcards from it.

eșec relațional

Favim.com-anorexia-bampw-black-black-and-white-611679

 

”Îmbrățișează-mă, sunt un eșec!”

e refrenul nespus al atâtor zile, nopți,

momente ce trec unul după altul, la infinit,

fraza pe care-aș repeta-o, urlând a neputință, mereu,

doar că…

n-am cui. în jurul meu

e avalanșă de oameni ce fug

care-ncotro, cu ochi goi, niciodată

la pas și niciodată cu sens,

așa că rămân cu mine,

captivă-n galeria de aproape artă

a propriilor trăiri.

înnebunesc și nici măcar nu-mi pasă;

prin mine trec miliarde

de gânduri, trăiri, amintiri și senzații.

mă chircesc pe podea ca și cum ar fi ultima

care mă poate-nțelege, asculta, alina,

trag o inspirație de veșnicie și-ncep

pe dată să tremur lumesc

gândindu-mă că tocmai am pierdut tot.

tot ce trece prin mine fără să pot întreba

de unde vine, pe cine caută sau încotro,

singura șansă de-acces spre tot ce iubesc

și-n timpul ăsta nedefinit mă golesc;

 mă golesc de rost, de simțiri, de dorință,

sclipirea din ochi ia sfârșit. gata,

de-acum o să fiu ca oamenii de la metrou

cu ochi goi, nostalgici aproape

după cine știe ce. or fi după zile ca asta?

cine mai știe? știu doar că din mine

pleacă așa, ca stolurile migratoare, rând pe rând,

cu râs isteric și crud, mort de viu

tot ce cândva am fost.

azi stau chircită pe podea,

tremur nervos și-o voce mă cheamă.

aș da orice să fie reală, știu că nu e,

dar vocea aia cu amintiri de porțelan

și textură de cărămidă nearsă

e unul din cele mai adânci secrete,

ultimul lucru la care renunț cu voia mea,

căci nu-i nici un secret deja:

vocea aia-i vocea ta. tu și secretul meu

purtați același nume,

dar nu ești aici,

iar eu fac autopsia celui mai dur atac de panică din lume

disecând anatomia unui eșec relațional.

o fi blestem sau o fi dar?