barbara-herself

[barbara-herself]

Wouldn't last a day

I come back home to my one hundred and thirty square feet studio apartment that I have been renting out for the last five months. I sip on my oat milk latte while scrolling through the pages of an evolutionary biology textbook pdf I pirated off a shady website at the start of the semester. I look at pictures of uncivilized people, our ancestors, jumping around bonfires and gathering food for their children.

Thank God for progress, I think, receiving an e-mail notification that kindly informs me that Amazon now has a promotion for hair rollers and miniature ball bearings. I swipe it off, looking back to the textbook, thinking how great it is for us to have modern medicine and hygiene. Now we live in warm homes, we have vaccines, all kinds of food readily available to us at any moment in time, other people are not running at us with pointy spears to fight for more fertile land.

Well, I think, unless you're born somewhere on Earth without those things. But that's not me - thank God for that as well! I keep scrolling, thinking how hard it must be to live without an electric stovetop, an indoor bathroom or internet shopping. These primitive people - they weren't even able to express themselves with their carefully crafted outfits or a curated social media profiles. All they did was hunt for animals - imagine gutting a bison or tearing the skin off a wooly mammoth, yuck. Imagine walking in the woods for the whole day, looking for berries and herbs that will have virtually zero nutritional value. Also - even worse than that - imagine living in a lawless society! The crimes, the disorder - I wouldn't last a day.

I look at their tattered leather clothes and hairy heads and think how awful it must have been to live without hair conditioner and take-out sushi.

I think about the last time I saw my friends, which was last summer - or was it two summers ago? I still text them, but the conversation usually dies down after three messages of catching up. I go to bed, hugging my blanket and my stuffed animals. I take my phone with me, watching an endless feed of videos talking about how outrageous was the thing that one person said to the other person on whatever social media, and I think to myself 'I would have never said that, this is disgusting'. I watch a Youtube commentary about how Tiktok is ruining the music industry and how EVERYTHING will fall apart any minute now - just you wait!

The people from the textbook look at me, falling asleep alone in my tiny studio apartment. They think to themselves 'She didn't even see another person today, didn't walk around the woods or jump over the bonfire! She didn't draw in the sand, she didn't make a clay bowl or even catch a fish. This life seems terrible - we wouldn't last a day.'

#writers on tumblr #writing #spilled words #words #spilled thoughts #writers and poets #writeblr #creative writing #original writing #young writer

[barbara-herself]

Womanhood in the twenty-first century in a predominantly Western culture has been a confusing experience to me so far. Having grown up in Eastern Europe, I have soaked in the habit of contradictions to my bones.

I know not to speak when not spoken to, but my mother taught me to fight the patriarchy. People around me said that girls don't swear and girls don't smoke and girls don't drink or do drugs, so I did all those things just to prove them wrong. They have said that I should not live with a man I'm not going to marry, so I also did that for a while. My teachers told me that girls shouldn't kiss girls, naturally I did that as well. I was taught I am fragile and emotional, but in my core I always knew I must be strong and better than everyone else to prove them all wrong.

People of my generation on the Internet send the message that I should be skinny or not skinny and healthy and have a journey that I share online with pretty pictures and high-resolution videos. I should be active and go to the gym and also read all these books on mental health and definitely see a therapist, but not that one, and also do yoga and mindfullness meditation and travel to new places and talk to friends and also be a career girlboss. I should be proud of my hairy legs and try microdosing LSD, I must be a vegan because otherwise I want the Earth to burst in epic flames, I must be a saviour to everyone, an empath and a strong voice. I must be all these things, but above all, I must be myself.

Don't get me wrong - I am definitely so happy about the fact that we are getting healthier and are taking better care of ourselves and our planet. I hope that one day we get to wake up to the news of Earth's temperatures not being record high that year and we come up with an energy-efficient way to remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and also use ecologically friendly packaging for everything. Nonetheless, finding my voice and understanding what I truly want has been incredibly hard for me in all the background noise.

Sometimes, I just think about how nice it would be if I could just tune it all out. Remove myself quietly from the party - no one will even notice, I'm a nobody, no one invited me here - and just breathe. How nice it would have been not to have a childhood spent on social media, constantly informed of Once in a Lifetime Cataclysms. How great it must be to hear your heart speak to you and then do the things it wants you to.

My heart's been battered and broken and it feels like trucks drove through it quite violently. Its voice is weak and breathy, but persistent. It tells me to create art, however I can, whatever it takes. I have no idea how Do I Do Art realistically without starving or being a burden to everyone around me. I'm not even that good. How do I be all those things I must be + be an artist + earn a living + have a social life and eat homecooked meals?

It's April, and I have shedded my old skin. One day, I'll be wise to know what to do after.

#writers on tumblr #writing #spilled words #words #spilled thoughts #writers and poets #writeblr #feminism #female writers #modern femininity #art #artists on tumblr

[barbara-herself]

Easter was always an important holiday in my Catholic household. Today I was decorating some eggs and remembered the way I used to decorate them with my mother. One particular year is stuck in my memory - I was very young, couldn't be older than eight, and that year she was in a good mood during the holidays. This might not sound like much, but for me the holidays were always dreadful - multiple mental breakdowns from various family members, anger, haste, a million dishes no one is going to touch, tears, alcohol, quarrels and so on. But that one year, that particular year that I cling onto, she was completely fine. We boiled some eggs in onion peels and painted over the brown shells with white markers. It was probably not safe to eat, but we didn't really think about that then. We sat at the kitchen table - just the two of us - and chatted about our drawings, the weather, the food and the people around us. Some of the eggs were darker, almost completely black - her trick was to put a few rusty nails into the onion peel dye.

I painted the same little ornaments today - alone, far away from home, impossibly far from that moment when we did it with her. I baked a traditional Easter pastry with dried fruit and I cried. I miss her very much. I am just a child that misses their mommy, even though I'm a six foot tall 23-year-old woman. In that moment - that one Easter when all was well - she loved me and I loved her, and we put the painted eggs in a basket along with some bread, salt, a small piece of ham and a jar of water to bring to church for it to be sanctified.

I miss her and I grieve losing her. Her life is too painful for her to bear - but she never gave up, at least physically. Mentally, I know that her mind will never return to what it used to be, especially knowing the fact that she is stubborn and doesn't believe that therapy or a psychiatrist might help her. I cried today, thinking that if she ever loved me, she would have gotten help and would have tried to be a good mom to me and my sister. Maybe whatever she went through in her life before giving birth to me was already too heavy a burden for her to carry. I believe if she ever truly cared about our family, she would have given up her toxic lifestyle and gotten help. I tried giving her as much love as I possibly could have as a child, leaving me disappointed and hating myself for a very long time for not being able to help her.

I hope one day I will love myself as much as she should have loved me.

#writers on tumblr #writing #spilled words #words #spilled thoughts #writers and poets #trauma #writeblr #creative writing #female writers #writerscommunity #writers

[barbara-herself]

Anger

I used to feel a lot of anger, daily. I was an irritable driver, a perfectionist mentor to my new colleagues, a short-tempered romantic partner. I hated my anger and I hated myself for it. I hated who I was when I was angry, and from that self loathing more anger brewed. After I've started antidepressants, a lot of the anger went away - at least most of it. I still get angry, but in the right moments, I think. I want to note down what I've learned so far - as a synopsis for my later self, a checkpoint to which later on I can come back to and see if I still feel the same way I do now.

Being an irritable driver might just mean you are living in a city where there is little to no driving culture or you yourself shouldn't be driving a car. I was privileged enough to move to Sweden, where it is absolutely unnecessary to drive a car to get to places. I have sold my car and couldn't be happier with the decision.

Antidepressants do help, even if you feel like you've got it all together. I did go through a number of moderately bad mental breakdowns in my life, but found myself bouncing back relatively quickly, so I never thought I'd need chemical intervention in my brain. However, taking antidepressants has enabled me to have a prolonged amount of time where I could concentrate on what is making me angry and work on those parts. It is much easier to establish healthy habits when you are not constantly circling between depression, self loathing and fury.

Healthy habits - finding whatever works for you can take some time, but everyone has things they must do to feel better. I know that for me I must absolutely do a bit of yoga, take a walk (unless I'm sick), eat at least one healthy meal, brush my teeth and stick to my skincare routine daily. It sounds very minimal and obvious, but I have struggled with these things and figuring it out felt like an epiphany. Now these are unconditional, must-do things in my life.

I have absolutely no idea where the hell am I going in life and I have to learn to be okay with the discomfort of not knowing.

No one actually ever reaches "mental healthiness". We're all idiots on a rock in space. Even those people on youtube who say they know how to heal your trauma and mental illnesses probably have no clue what they're talking about (except for a very minimal few).

Read books and create art. Books are a great way to entertain yourself, learn new things and just have a good time. I barely ever use social media now. At first it was weird and I didn't know where to put myself in moments of waiting for a train or right before falling asleep, but the realization that staring at the ceiling was going to make me happier than staring at tiktoks has helped me overcome the doomscrolling addiction. I still do scroll, but not as much as I did before. Creating art is a great way (at least for me) to lose myself for a moment and project my thoughts and feelings onto a piece of paper.

If a study programme and/or a job makes you lose your mind and cry and vomit, consider a different path in life, if possible. Maybe this is not for you. Perhaps it was for you a year ago and now it is not - this is fine, it happens all the time. If you can't change it - sucks to be you. I guess you must stick it out then? I don' know, I'm too stupid for situations like these.

If you find yourself feeling very lonely, it's not necessarily a bad thing. Right now I'm in the weird stage in life where I've cut out quite a lot of toxic people, so I only talk to my boyfriend and I sometimes call two other friends from my home country. I am struggling to find social connections in Sweden, but I'm glad I'm not settling just for anything - I have tried a few different activities, I have learned that the people associated with it are not for me and I have moved on. I trust that I will find meaningful connections someday.

One of the jobs I've tried working had a team building exercise where we had to introduce ourselves and share one of our dreams. In that moment I realized I didn't have a dream I could share, because I didn't have dreams at all - at the ripe old age of 22 I didn't have a single dream I could think of in that moment. I remember stammering "Well, it's not a dream, but rather a plan - I want to have a PhD in chemistry one day." Today, I realized that ever since I have started writing my novel, I have dreams again - quite a lot of them, actually. This must be a good sign.

Finally - taking breaks is great. Taking one big break is good. Taking a few small breaks is amazing. Pausing work and studies for a moment doesn't mean I'm lazy, it just means that I know what's good for me. I have a rule now - never in my life is there a planned activity that is more important than me having a good night's sleep, a proper shit or a good lunch. Leaving the room in the middle of a useless corporate meeting for a pee is liberating. You and only you will ever know when you need a break. Right now I'm on a two-month study break and it's great and also terrifying. I'm learning to live with myself and love myself.

#writers on tumblr #writing #spilled words #words #spilled thoughts #writers and poets #trauma #mental health #my journey #anger #writeblr #writerscommunity #female writers #writblr #creative writing

[barbara-herself]

Litwo! Ojczyzno moja! ty jesteś jak zdrowie: Ile cię trzeba cenić, ten tylko się dowie, Kto cię stracił. Dziś piękność twą w całej ozdobie Widzę i opisuję, bo tęsknię po tobie.

O Lithuania, my native land, you are like health - so valued when lost beyond recovery; let these words now stand restoring you, redeeming exile's cost.

Adam Mickiewicz, "Pan Tadeusz", translated by Leonard Kress

Life in immigration is bittersweet. You experience what life has to offer in a more established country, and soak in the sea of opportunity as its waves crash over your youth. You say to yourself "this is what life is supposed to feel like - I can finally enjoy the mundane, everyday details of my life." The trains don't smell like piss, your alcoholic relatives are nowhere to be found and the heavy burden of centuries of repressions and occupation is left behind.

To live in a young country is hard labour. I was four years old when my country joined the European Union, so growing up we seemingly had everything all the other countries had. Yet the more you study history, the more you realize that your comfortable life is built on the deep, unhealed scars of the past. Almost everyone I know (who is old enough) was living in miserable economic and spiritual poverty merely half a century ago. The collective trauma and pain of a country reborn is a heavy burden to carry, and this is what a lot of Western countries take for granted.

Eastern Europeans are the most brilliant artists, poets, scientists, entrepreneurs, teachers and overall devoted and clever people, however it often seems like we are confined in a collective shame of being "worse" than other, more progressed countries. Lithuanians specifically have a hard time with cooperation and reaching out to other people for assistance. There's this unwritten pride of doing everything by yourself, no matter how much it destroys you, because history has shown us again and again that trusting your neighbour can be catastrophic.

I miss my home country in a way I miss my childhood - romanticizing the beauty of cherished memories, but also being painfully aware of the sorrow that was present. I know I cannot find happiness and be truly myself back home. I know that if I ever come back, I will put on a mask of a hyper-productive and successful young professional, completely losing sight of what I am in my heart.

Nevertheless, I miss the flower fields where I let my dog run free and where hares found shelter in the old tree stump by the river. I miss the Old Town, with its secret passages and artistic graffiti under the bridges. I miss seeing people - truly remarkable, talented people, working wonders for pennies, out of sheer love and passion for their craft.

I hope one day, I find my home within me and I can carry my memories proudly. For now, I can only dream.

#writers on tumblr #writing #spilled words #words #spilled thoughts #writers and poets #trauma #lithuania #eastern europe

[barbara-herself]

I remember Finland

The last time we talked you said you would kill yourself. I knew you were manipulating, but I was still very worried. We lived on the sixteenth floor and you called me, crying, saying you would jump out the window. I came home to you, and we talked, and you cried, and I left.

Next week, I had to move back to my parents' house and my mother was driving me insane. You invited me back, out of pure human decency I believe. Once again I found peace in your company and I didn't want to leave. For the first time in our two year relationship, you cooked me a meal, and it was delicious. You bought me sunflowers, and I stayed over that night. We didn't have sex, you just held me, and I cried about the way my mother treated me after I moved back to my childhood home.

The next day you offered me to stay with you. Every cell of my body wanted to leave, I knew you were dangerous and abusive, but staying with my mother didn't feel like a better alternative. I looked at the sunflowers and thought on how many occasions you could have bought them, but you chose now, at the end of our line.

"Who are we trying to fool?" I said, nodding my head slowly. You understood what it meant, and as I gathered my things, great anger took over you. You called me names and screamed, and I left.

I hated you for the longest time. You traumatized me in many ways, starting with your bullying in middle school. You told me I was ugly, fat, crazy and disgusting, but frankly, I oftentimes called you terrible things as well. I held onto you, believing you would save me from my mom, but in many ways your words cut deeper that hers ever could.

Later that month, you texted me, saying that you have been missing work and binge drinking. I didn't care, I was fed up with you and wanted you gone from my life, although I couldn't bring myself to block your number, so I guess that was just another lie I was telling myself.

We broke up exactly five years ago and I rarely think of you. I sincerely hope that you found peace and you have separated yourself from your abusive father. We were stupid, traumatised kids, trying to force love in the wrong place. We hated each other, and a lot of that hate was confused for passion. We didn't know any better.

I remember Finland. We went there in February six years ago, and it was freezing. Life was simpler and I hated myself so much more. I'm glad this is all over. I forgive you - but more importantly, I forgive myself. I sincerely - from the bottom of my heart - hope you are doing better.

#writers on tumblr #writing #spilled words #words #spilled thoughts #writers and poets

[barbara-herself]

Gratitude is a wonderful feeling to accept. I felt it sprouting in me today during my yoga session and I was happy to accept it. I have been struggling with life for a while, and especially the last few months have been extremely hard for me. Regardless, I felt so grateful today for everything I am and I have.

I am taking better care of myself than I did a year ago. I am in a much better place, both mentally and physically. I am allowing myself to wander and let in new experiences. I realized external measures do not define me, as I am discovering what a cool person I actually am. I have the most wonderful and supportive angel of a partner who has been right by my side when I was at my worst.

There's a difference between knowing you have great things in life and actually feeling it. I think that is true gratitude. It is not only recognizing the facts of your life that make it great, but letting yourself feel it. All of it sounds like mystical bullshit, but the reality of the fact is rather simple. You cannot feel grateful for a situation when your body is singaling that you are being threatened and your ultimate objective is to survive. I've found that oftentimes I carried so much guilt because I haven't felt grateful for my life.

Ultimately, I guess the best way to heal is to sometimes just accept the situation you are in and let it wash over you. The more you struggle against it, the deeper you will sink. Not everything is up to you. When you let the current carry you, you can finally enjoy the scenery on your way.

#writers on tumblr #writing #spilled words #words #spilled thoughts #writers and poets #gratitude #trauma #healing #healing journey

[barbara-herself]

One of the paintings I've done five years ago. It looked beautiful in the sun. It's a shame I gave my easel and paints away. I want to start painting again.

"Pagliacci", acrylic on canvas, 2019. My art.

#original art #artists on tumblr #my art #art #artwork #acrylic painting #painting

[barbara-herself]

On grief

Last time I talked to my mother was nine months ago. She had called me out of the blue from a new number, since I had her old one blocked, as well as her social media for a few years now. We talked for four hours, which started off well and promising, but quickly turned into one of her narcissistic and manipulative rants.

However terrible was the trauma that she made me go through, I had grieved her loss in many ways, making that phone call rather shocking. I became irritated for weeks, and I didn't understand why. Granted, she managed to reach me in a quite stressful moment of my life, but the idea of talking to someone who was a ghost in my subconscious shook me up a lot. It made me angry and sad, because up until then I thought I had handled my emotions relating my mother pretty well.

I have to keep reminding myself that at one point, she was the most important person in my life. I cannot just forget all about her like a bad ex boyfriend. I genuinely looked up to her and wanted to be like her. We were very close, or so she kept me that way to weaponize me against the other members of my family. Regardless, our family is now broken, and I am still grieving.

I do believe that deep down, underneath all her trauma, there used to be a beautiful mind. I don't think she was born that way. She had built many walls around her heart, scared of what it might be telling her to do, and with enough time, self-sabotage, stress and pain she became a full blown narcissist. I remember once, when I was in my early teens, she spoke to me calmly - we had a nice back-and-forth conversation, not a deranged rant at me. At that moment, she was completely aware of her own toxicity, and confessed that she had no idea what to do with it, as she felt it consume her.

I wish she didn't have to go through that much pain. It would have broken anyone. However, in no way can it ever justify the way she behaved as a mother.

I'm in the late, long-lasting stages of grief now. I don't think about her all the time or I don't get angry about the memories I have of her. I'm trying my best not to pity myself too much, but simply accept my reality for what it was. I carry her memory in family recipes and funny phrases she used. I'm still very scared that I will turn out like her, although I believe I am doing everything in my power not to, and that's already a lot. I don't know if I have forgiven her, but at least I have accepted my situation.

#writing #writers on tumblr #words #writers and poets #spilled words #spilled thoughts #grief #trauma #narcissism

[barbara-herself]

Lemons

God, I love lemons. They are a wonderful fruit, albeit to love a lemon you have to play by its rules. You cannot bite into it, like an apple, or peel it and eat it's juicy slices like its cousin orange.

Nonetheless, lemons are a fantastic manifestation of humans having their own interpretation of Nature's gifts. Lemons make wonderful drinks, always refreshing and sunny. Their tart flavor and gentle aroma invites you to enjoy a lemonade or a limoncello and tonic on a hot summer's day. They give you warm, soothing tea on a harsh winter's night. Lemons make exceptional desserts - lemon cake, lemon sorbet, lemon tart... Lemons in pasta sauces or in oven-baked dishes elevate them, without taking the spotlight of the main course, but without them the dish itself would be bland and flat, like a song without a beat.

To love a lemon is work - you have to mix it in sugar, boil it, add honey, dilute it with water. But once you're done, there is no denying - lemons make everything you add them to taste infinitely better.

No wonder we call our troubles 'life giving us lemons'.

#lemon appreciation post #writer #writers on tumblr #words #lemons #i love lemons #no i seriously love lemons #sipping on a lemon water rn #spilled thoughts #spilled words #writing #og writing #writers and poets

[barbara-herself]

I don't feel inspired today to write a text here, so instead I've decided to share one of my old paintings.

"A mother's love", acrylic on canvas, 2023. My original art.

#art #painting #artists on tumblr #my art #original art #acrylic painting

[barbara-herself]

Ego and Academia

Having spent a few years in academia as an undergraduate researcher, I couldn't help but notice how much the scientific progress is hindered by the scientist's ego. Of course, there are all the extremely negative aspects like greedy publishing companies, the grant system and other funding issues, but these are systemic issues that should be approached in a complex and a fundamentally anti-capitalistic way that I will not discuss now. The Ego, however, is something every researcher should be dealing with personally and that is what I want to write about.

If you have ever taken an organic chemistry course, you will have noticed that there is a slew of named reactions. For those who are unfamiliar, a named reaction is what it sounds like - a chemical reaction named after the person who has discovered it. This naming convention is often times useful, as it provides a quick way to refer to a certain chemical transformation without having to specify the conditions or the reagents (everyone knows what you're talking about when you refer to a Grignard reaction). However, at a certain point it gets to a ridiculous level of specificity. There can be one minor change in the reaction conditions, where the mechanism is essentially the same, but the molecules in question are slightly different, and the reaction then will carry a completely different name. Sticking somebody's name to a reaction is already a bit weird to me - this is not YOUR reaction, it's Nature's way of making the molecules work and you were lucky enough to stumble upon it. Nonetheless, this is also not the main issue for me here - humans are weird and we need names for things to better categorize them, and sometimes these names coincide with the names of the discoverers of said things, so okay, then we have Newton's laws and pasteurization and Euler's equation and Suzuki cross-coupling.

What I do have a problem with is when you meet modern day researchers who seem to be in a contest with their colleagues about who can suggest a more obscure, unheard of named reaction to their synthesis pathway. I'm talking "I-know-this-indie-band-they-only-have-27-Spotify-listeners" type of shit. They can come up to you, draw out the reaction and they will expect you to know a specific piece of information about that specific reaction, and when you don't know the answer, they give you an all-knowing look and say "Oh, you don't know? This is the Dakin reaction! It's really important to know it." Not only this type of behavior is condescending to younger colleagues (younger meaning less experienced, not necessarily having lived shorter), but it is also absolutely academically unnecessary.

An ideal scientist is open-minded and keen to discuss new ideas and challenge themselves in their knowledge. It is someone willing to put in a lot of hours into tiring, pointless work just so they can get a tiny shrivel of information about a very specific, small thing that in hindsight will most probably bring very little to no change. Essentially, a good researcher should be someone who cares about their research so deeply that it does not matter to them if the outcome will allow them to stick their name on to a piece of information. Publicly funded research obviously faces a lot of funding issues, but in an ideal world researchers would have close-to-unlimited financial resources, leading me to the natural conclusion that good research can only exist in a highly developed society. With all this information in mind, how is it in any way respectable to turn academia into a dick-measuring (non-gender specific) contest?

Everyone in our society pitched in, and said okay, we will save this amount of our shared money, so that researchers can do something to progress our society. Bearing this huge responsibility in mind, you enter academia, knowing that the only way you won't fail everyone is if you produce good research (by good research I absolutely don't mean something that is immediately applicable or that gets published in a prestigious journal; good research is something you deeply care about, a piece of knowledge that we, as a species, did not possess before). Tell me then, dear scientist, how come in your deep professorial age you sit here, trying to impress a group of undergraduates by going into an esoteric rant about something no one in the room has the ability to understand? Or you, my dear PhD student - why should everyone continue to pay your salary if all you do is boast the knowledge of a random fact not as a genuine piece of interesting information, but as a way of showing off your memorization skills? How does this behavior encourage academic discussion? How does this push the boundaries of knowledge?

Then, there's the fact that we are living in the age of Internet, which automatically erases all necessity of memorizing any extremely specific knowledge. The key is to understand it and use it as a creative tool, play around with it bearing all your knowledge in mind, until on an off-chance, you create something wonderful. The fact that we have all the dry information accessible to us at any given moment at the tips of our fingers makes the whole bragging ritual even more miserable. Then, these people educate other people, who in turn also become more focused on the showing off and gatekeeping rather than concentrated on unleashing more of Nature's beauty. This self-feeding, vicious cycle of ego-driven, utterly pointless tradition of circlejerking (gender neutral, again) survives centuries and makes it way into the future before you know it.

Dear academics, at any point in your career! Ask yourselves this - and be brutally honest - have you ever felt better than somebody else because there was a piece of information you knew and they didn't? Is there, by any chance, any arrogance in the way you carry yourself on a daily basis? Do you sincerely think you are smarter than everyone else? Do you keep saying out loud that you're stupid, but secretly think all your colleagues are idiots and only you are worthy of that first-name paper?

You might tell me - well, not really, I'm not a narcissist! However, I have devoted so many years to my education! I have spent many late evenings studying the laws of physics instead of partying, I have lost so much time on grant applications I could have spent with my children. I am entitled to a level of respect, and yes, I am proud to know much more in my topic than everybody else, but that doesn't have to do anything with my ego! I have spent excruciating hours at the lab and I am allowed to feel good about myself and the knowledge I possess!

To a certain point, pride is necessary. However, before you move on, think about these questions.

Tell me, do you realize what great honor you have been gifted to be a researcher?

How much privilege it is to be able to study?

How many weird historic coincidences and stars aligning had to happen for you to exist in this moment in this society, enabling you not to fight a war or hunt for food, but do lab work?

How many people had to build your research facility? How many of them constructed your roads? Who built your house and cooked your meal? Who drove you to work? Who made your car? Who takes care of your children when you're not home?

Do you realize how much responsibility you carry with your words having the authority of a professor?

What's the point of your research if no one, except for a handful of your friends, is allowed to appreciate it?

How is it that you are the face of progress, if all you focus on is making yourself feel better?

Obviously, these are my own, personal opinions. You are entitled to disagree furiously.

#academia #science #research #ego #writer #writers on tumblr #academics #university #education #higher education #words #stem #stem academia #stem student

[barbara-herself]

It's international Women's Day : 25000 women and girls have been killed in Gaza.

[barbara-herself]

Harvest Moon

Lately I've been seeing references to Harvest Moon everywhere. It's on my Tumblr feed, my Youtube recommendations, my Spotify suggested songs, street art and magazine displays in random shops I pass by on my daily walk. I wasn't looking for it specifically, so it's hard to blame The Algorithm for picking up a random search query, let alone seeing it in real life.

Eerily enough, I have also been feeling a tectonic shift in my mindset. At first I thought it was just another study-related breakdown and I will come back to feeling neutral after a few days, but it has been a week and I still feel uneasy, like something big is about to happen. There isn't anything changing in my life physically right now, and I cannot see what could be changing - I'm in the middle of an academic year and my perspective for the upcoming three months is studying.

The uneasiness doesn't feel negative, although it is overwhelming. This is the feeling when you are on top of a rollercoaster ride, seeing far into the distance, anticipating the sudden drop. It's childish excitement mixed with mind-paralyzing terror of what will happen if something goes wrong. I can feel that something big is coming and I have absolutely no clue on what that might be.

I am terrified and yet, I cannot wait to see what Harvest Moon will bring to me. There isn't anything poetic or profound I can write about it, it just feels freaky and weird and I needed to share this with someone.

#writing #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #harvest moon #change #what the hell is going on

[barbara-herself]

Winter is over

Today, I wrote this in my diary:

"I've only realized just now that I have survived the winter! I was afraid of it. I thought it was going to last forever, and at first it did. But now it is over, and I am here, alive, breathing. I have dreams now, not plans. I will be okay. The sun is shining brightly today and my heart is full of hope."

I am grateful to myself for feeling calm and accepting this peace, even if it only is for today. Tomorrow, I will probably be anxious and overwhelmed again, since it's the natural human reaction to change and general chaos. Nevertheless, today is peaceful, and I accept it with an open soul.

#writers on tumblr #words #spilled words #my words #idk what else to put in these tags this bit feels superficial #but i want people to find my posts somehow #writing #healing #gratitude

[barbara-herself]

Dirty fingernails

I used to be very self conscious about my hands and my fingernails.

My mother forced me and my family to work for her in her small business, which very often included hours upon hours of grueling manual labor and garden work. Come springtime, I had multiple bruises on my legs from hitting the table edges in the greenhouse. There were always small wounds on my hands from prickly plants or sharp tools. I had calluses on my palms and no matter how hard I scrubbed, my nails always looked dirty. These were the same hands that did my high school homework, the same hands I've participated in endless school competitions with, the same hands that wrote essays and drew fan art.

My classmates were aware that I was being forced to work for my mother. Some of them made fun of me, and sometimes they pointed out how dirty my hands looked. Of course, now I understand that they were just kids and they were making fun of anything unusual to them, because that's what kids do. I don't hold it against them.

To this day, spring feels like it's going to destroy me all over again. I am still learning to enjoy life as a grown-up. I haven't been to her greenhouse in six years now, but every time the tram passes the university plant nurseries, I can almost smell the earthy, pungent smell of moist greenhouse air. It used to shake me to my core, but now it is only a fleeting shadow, passing quickly through my mind.

Trauma feels crushing and unbearable, but I know for a fact that it gets better. Once you start establishing yourself as your own person it only is uphill from there. I can be broke and aimless, but I know I am free. I still obsessively check for any dirt under my fingernails, but it's not as bad as it was a year ago.

#trauma #writing #og writing #childhood trauma #survivor #it gets better #mental health

[barbara-herself]

It's been six months

It's been six months since we've moved to Sweden. The move itself felt like I was being birthed again - it was painful, and we struggled a lot, and money's always been a problem. You kept reassuring me that we'll be fine and that we'll make it. I was full of hope, crying tears of joy and grieving my past life. Elated and miserable, but mostly confused. Alright, I thought to myself, I'll adjust. I'll give myself time, and I'll start with my studies, and I'll get used to the new cities and new public transport and new brands of cheese.

I had sincerely hoped that it will become my home. That I'd meet new people and make them my friends, that we'll laugh and create memories of bad karaoke and hungover pizza leftovers in the morning. That I would be able to look you in the eyes and tell you "I'm happy here. I'm happier than I ever were" .

I had hoped that studying a subject I love would make me enjoy life more and more each day. That it would all make sense and I'd have and idea of where and what should I do while I'm alive. And you were - and you still are - so happy with grad school, and I'm so proud of you. However mean it is though, I'm jealous.

My heart is starving, craving for something I'm yet to understand. It's probably not something I'm studying for right now, which is really not helpful because I have a six hour exam in nine days that I'm barely prepared for. The rational thing to do is just try my best and focus on the studies, then graduate, then see what happens. But that's another year spent chasing the heights of mountains of a foreign planet. I cannot - for the life of me - focus on it enough.

I have been such an excellent, promising student, but now it feels distant, something I did to try to fit in, while simultaneously trying to be different and better than everyone else. I had to prove myself to my mother and most of all, to myself. Now I feel like my heart wants to move on and I am paralyzed with confusion.

It's been six months since we've moved to Sweden. You are happy here, you are fitting right in, your job is perfect for you and you love the new people you've met here. I have never felt so alone in my life. Even you became an alien to me, although your love used to make me feel like my home is where you are. I cannot stop crying, and I barely understand why.

I feel like a whiny brat, and I hate myself for it. I'm just a dramatic, egocentric little baby, living in a very nice country, receiving free education while living off of my partner's salary. Life couldn't be better?

#writing #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #words #sweden #moving abroad #isolation #spilled words #spilled thoughts