There was this time when i really wanted to know something. And V was someone who did offer realization. He did do fighting training long time ago for special operations. Now he's training young people. I never did push me into that much fear and pain by myself. The whole training showed me something. Even the real bad asses, the big boys, those who go out to fight with the unspeakable, will get hurt, will suffer from pain, ... no one is invincible, but one can learn to bear it and even go further.

I was 4 when my best friend died. I can only remember some moments when we played in the garden. One day he and his family wanted to go cycling in the early evening. Sure, i wanted to come with them. But his mother told me they wanted to do this only with the family.

(Well, as he was only 5, and you now how boys are with 5. He just could not wait to get over the street when it was "red". I didn't see him ever again. My mother did not want me to see him in his coffin ... so i didn't even see him dead.)

The next day, when i was in kindergarden, i wondered where my friend was. The kindergarten teacher told me that my friend would not come. I don't know how i did get the information that he was dead, but i did knew it when i came home later:
In the kitchen there were my mother and my two sisters, screaming. They told me that he was dead, and i told them that i know. I wondered why they were screaming, because i knew that people die and they did too.

(Interestingly, i do remember much things before this day, mostly nothing of my early youth after this day. I guess i found out what death means for the people that are left behind.)

Someday, i was 11 (or was it when i was 13?) and it was Sunday. I woke up from screaming (not that this was really suspicious, heard that often) ... but i have to go back some weeks ... i guess that this will become more intersting later.

My mother had begung to work again and she was not happy. She wondered what she could do for the pupils that she lectured. One day she asked me if i would think about her when she was gone. I told her that i would and did ask if something was on. But she told me that she only wanted to know.

Two weeks later on sunday, i woke up from screaming, did go down in pyjamas, my mother lying on the sofa ... it gets a bit fuzzy here ... my sisters crying. My father did do things ... like ... handling with towel and getting her outside to the car where he did stop the bleeding with a belt. Then the ambulance arrived and later i sat on the sofa with my oldest sister. I said to her: "I knew that she would do it."

(Is this everything i remember?)

Over 10 years later i found out that my mother had psychosis. And this makes me really angry. Why did no one ever speak with me about it? Why wasn't i allowed to know? Why should i trust people that do lie that much? Why should i trust anyone, or at least how could i? Why wasn't i allowed to see my mother in the psychiatry ... yes i was young, but was it better to shut me out, rob me of the ability to understand or at least understand that i do not understand, or to speak? Who's there for me if not me?

SUDS seems not to have reached a higher level. Interesting thing: I seem not to get aware of higher stress-levels ... only when they are growing rapidly or hitting maybe 60% or 70% of maximum.

Well what do we have here? Family life ... hmm, noo ... okay lets get to the hard point.

My best friend, Ina. I loved her. I mean i loved her, nothing like i want to fek her. We had our fun, we talked, joked, we had our downs sure, but this was a good relationship, often we were lying on her bed and just talking, holding each other. Smiling, laughing. Or we were going out, mostly to the club. Then one day, a friend of her called me. Told me that she was at the hospital. So she had developed leukemia. This was a shock for me.

(... i don't have the feeling to get to the point here ... this lacks something it doesn't have the needed intensity. ... but i'll go on.)

So there were the following years when there was always only slow progress ... many fallbacks, the times in the hospital when she got into isolation and i could not reach her not only physical but when i also could not reach her mind or psyche. She developed zoster (actually 3 times, causing phantom pain, a blind eye, loss of an eyebrov and scars in the face), when things slowly got better her brother died in an traffic accident, that was when her father finally gor ****ed up and started heavy drinking, going into hospital within 1 week.

I could tell these things again and again. That doesn't seem to work.

I guess the point is that i would have sacrificed my life, really i would have done this ... but that would never heal people, would not bring someon back to life. I could not help, i couldn't even help myself, because i could not speak about the feelings i had. There was nothing i could, no one to speak with, no one who seemed to understand. No one to trust.

When i was slowly circling down the process into depression, slowly becoming unable to manage my live more than waking up sometime, eating sometime something, maybe cut my beard sometime. Did someone ever try to speak to me about the things i could not speak about or i didn't want to see? Nope. The "friends" i had, complained about me ... though their complaints could have been thrusted back at them again. Explanation: I had to get a new home near university so if i ever saw them i had to travel, and as i slowly got fed up with travelling i didn't see them that often ... they complained i could come more often, but in return wouldn't travel to my new home. The other "friends", didn't complain ... though obviously i developed manners that needed correction. But the correction came not by openly speaking, but by aggression and namethrowing. A nice sentence: "I don't tell when someone does something wrong. Everyone has to see for himself what he's doing wrong." ... Thanks, ****ers.

I guess my real trauma, the one i was confronted with my whole life. Is that there are things that i can't change, and too many people i can't reach, also when they were the nearest to me. There's nothing i can trust on. Oh, i can trust but ... it won't feel like trust. There is no security i can find for myself. Sometimes i can't even trust myself. And just in this moment i don't even know if what i am writing is right.

I will still try to reach out to people and i will try to reach out to myself. Maybe i'll find home. Because thats where i want to be: at home. But i haven't found it, and i could look through maps, and through my phonebook ... theres nothing pointing home. Not that i know.

I wonder how i can get out of here.

Trying to push SUDS:

The time when i was feeling really bad but pushed myself thorugh university, i developed the skill to kill myself while going further. Killing all the feelings sometimes helps ... o sadly that they are not that easy to get back. As long as i knew what goals i could pursue everything was fine, but when i was nearly dead, my goals weren't backed by emotions and became fluid, whoever could persuade me that something was interesting could have taken me wherever he wanted.

... hmm ... that doesn't work.

It feels like theres nothing more i could squeeze out ...

i guess that i just have to take this life an make the best out of it ... i don't know how i get a plan to change the things i want to change ... how to feel more connected, how to feel more at home. I'll try by keeping my senses open and find delight in smallest things. But still this gives me no sense, nothing i may burn for. Nothing where i can release my power trip.

I am very disappointed. I am bored and feel empty.

Looking at my life now and setting it in to relation with the last 6 years ... the most things are really fine, i have a new job, am smart, good looking, girls look after me, i know that my brain is an evil weapon of mass destruction ;) ... i bought a car, i've been on holidays, have new clothes, got a computer, ...

But i lack someone ... thats the child in me. That little fella just doesn't seem to wake up. Maybe he has become a big brute and ugly bad mother ****er ... but where is he?

Or am i just blind?

Ok, i did speak with many people about the trauma ... especially about the trauma that followed ... feeling not connected, feeling no trust, feeling nothing ... somehow becomes a trauma itself. Right now i have the feeling of feeling something.

I still don't really know what to do ... but i have this vague kind of hope.

Maybe i just have to learn to feel ... maybe it is just like theoretical computer science with all the boring and mind-bending formulas, theorems and ... stuff. I have to read the topic twice to get a glimpse of what that stuffs all about ... read it three times and wonder if i ever will comprehend ... look in a dictionary ... get frustrated ... do the whole process again ... find out that the process has to be changed a bit ... read it again ... get an idea ... idea works ... get another idea ... idea does not work ... and on.

Maybe it's just a way going up and down, left and right ... that is sometimes blocked or has no bridge over the river. Though it looks like a crippled and ugly way it is the only way and it is the straight way ...

The one who walks on ... will get forward ... and when he reaches the end ... theres the next path ... tempting to go forward. Till death.