Being a Human is Part of My Soul

Time and reality are illusions. I’m not matter, I’m energy, everything is energy, even stones. Different is the frequency of everything. Everything is connected. Being human is a chapter to learn. What happens in my life are challenges …

This Blog

Not writing in my blog does not mean that I’m not writing. The last few days have been revealing. And to write here would have been too early. I needed to listen and do different “things”.

I started to write privately, to let my first story for children begin. When I came to the part where I wanted to describe what the main characters created my fantasy left me. I was unable to continue. Blocked. Oh, I know this blockage but I misinterpreted this blockage for many decades. My “good” old self-doubts like “You don’t have what it needs to be a writer”, “You have nothing interesting to share”, “What for?” … these unspoken voices and only transformed in wordings and meaningless self-explanations had been born when I was traumatised.

The Trauma

First it is important to mention that everybody can continue reading. Not only catastrophes can cause trauma especially not for children. Trauma is everything which is too much for the immature mind of a child to deal with. This can be too strong or too many emotions simultaneously. When a child does not know how to process something in a constructive and not self-harming way.

What happened in my case? I only reacted and I profoundly changed after this reaction. Here is the story.

We had moved again. It has been the forth move and the fifth change of school within 7 years, which in itself have not been stabilising preconditions to what happened when I was 12 years old.

My grades in year 7 haven’t been good enough to move up to year 8. I knew that this happened because I learned different stuff at the school before. There was a possibility to learn hard over holidays and take part in an assessment a few days before the new school year. If you pass this assessment you can move on. This was the promise.

I was determined, I was convinced to make it. My father engaged a teacher and I worked hard over the holidays. Result? I passed the assessment very well, only two minor mistakes but … they told me that I will not move up to year 8. This was a decision they came to in a conference earlier.

I was shocked, I was really shocked. From this day on I hated school, teachers, authorities. I figured out the fine line to not get thrown out of school. I became provoking, challenging teachers to a point where I could feel “If they could they would slap me!” I also became speaker of the class. To be aggressive verbally became my new style.

This tiny little episode had further implications. I see all the connections … now.

I go through the feelings … now.

Children

Children feel drawn to me. Whenever I volunteer at lunchtime in a nursery afterwards they surround me, bring books or other stuff to play, make animal sounds with me, a lot of silly stuff which makes them laugh. And there was one child which I see still in front of me at the very last day. While we were talking his eyes constantly looked into my eyes firmly as if he wanted to find something or many things, as if he wished he could dive into my eyes.

I will write for children but differently than I thought before.