Forests Underwater or the Restless Mind

onda gigante

This week my psi, Holland, told me about the Highly Sensitive Persons (HSP). He said it was not a diagnostic in itself but that it could explain why I feel so exhausted after spending some time around people. The HSPs are over stimulated and are very sensitive to noises, lights, confusion, caffeine, people, terror movies and a list of other things. There is a site about the issue and a researcher, Elaine Aron, a HSP herself, that has been studying and talking about it. I was glad he was finally assertive about something on my condition except that I have already brought this subject of HSP in one session and he didn’t give me any credit, he ignore it. Is my condition so complex and out of the box that it makes it impossible to explain it exactly and clearly by anyone or I didn’t find the right doctor yet?  I hope I can find the answer. Anyway, I was happy, I bought the book and I can’t wait to start reading it.

Today I had to write because I can’t stop my mind. It gained a life of it’s own. The thoughts are racing at a cosmic speed. I need to calm down and get back in touch with the reality. It feels like I’m floating above all things, not in a visually way.  It’s late but it’s impossible to go to bed. A movie it’s not an option,  I can’t concentrated and a book the same. Meditation is working but not tonight.  I’ve decided to write, take a shot to see how it goes. It’s helping but it’s the music that is doing the magic. I’m listening to Rodrigo Leão, Forests Underwater. It is divine. It relaxes me, it cleans me, it calms me down, it grounds me, it breaks my voracious mind. It’s fine art made with heart,  soul and so much talent.

I’m feeling much better now.



Freaking out over…daily things

I can’t do anything. Everything seams so difficult and has so many obstacles and I spend my days doing almost nothing. It kills me softly as Roberta Flack would say.

Before I have the mental health problem I worked in the non profit sector for environment organisations and I loved it! I was passionate about it. Now I can’t have a proper job, I’m too tired, too dum and too emotionally unstable. No one can imagine how bad this is, it destroys me. My fire, my strength, my self-confidence, my optimism, all have come down to ZERO. I’m not sure what am I still doing here. What is my purpose? Is this a life?

I’ve come to the conclusion that there is no intention in the things that happens in our lives. There isn’t any purpose, any lesson or any superior reason for me/people having a mental condition. It’s all random. This means that I’m loosing faith in the Universe and that I’m practically an orphan of divine protection which leaves pretty much alone and struggling not to lose all the hope. Jose Saramago, a remarkable portuguese writer, has demonstrated the lack of good will and faith of all gods in his novel Son of Caim, and I agree with him. But don’t take me wrong, I respect religious people and I even envy them with their faith. They have something to hold on to.

In nature I find the sacred, the divine. It’s my sanctuary.  It gives me a priceless peace of mind and fulfilled heart.


I asked my psi many times to help me understand what job can I handle with my limitations. The answers were from silence, to “I can’t help you with that”, to “write articles for environmental magazines” (a little better), to “what about that photographic project with horses you told me about”. I said that that’s a hobby not something with purpose..besides, I’m alone most of the time so I need something to engage with people or I’m going crazy. Other persons, friends, suggested me to put my on business, but how am I going to do that when I feel so tired all the time?

Anyway, this post was not suppose to be about work but about me freaking out with the things I can’t do here at my house. The tasks are things like: painting doors and windows, painting outside walls, painting the main door, working on my photographies, printing some photographies, etc. When I’m away I think of so many things I want to do and even feel content about it. When I’m here it’s so hard to get anything done. For any task I think of doing it’s all very complicated and huge, or it’s worthless, or I think I won’t be able to finish it, or I feel tired, or I feel anxious and blocked, or it’s a fog in the brain that comes up, or there something stoping me and I just don’t do it. It seams that I have someone inside that permanently seeks self-sabotaging and self-destruction. Can this be?

Is there any more people feeling like this ? How do you manage it? How do you handle the obstacles and finish the task? Does any one have improved over time?






The hangover

I’m a mess today. Monday night was a nightmare, a horror movie, a torment. I was convinced that Jakarta didn’t call me over the weekend because she got involved with one of the girls that she was with. Imagining this brought to the surface the fear of abandonment and the pain that I felt 6 years ago when she got married with a girl putting our relationship abruptly to an end. I was devastated and it took me more than one year to put myself together again. Monday was the night of hell revisited. During that long hours I though to myself that I wouldn’t make it, I couldn’t handle going through  this again. In the morning I talked to her and find out that she had been sick Sunday and Monday. This calm me down but I could not get rid of the bad impression from by body and I knew that it didn’t happen but that it could happen. I couldn’t take the risk, the price is to high, I don’t won’t to pay for it. So I was in a hurry to finish everything with Jacarta and get rid of the anxiety associated with her not caring enough for me.  I know that I can’t talk with her about this kind of thing because she will feel that I was trying to make her feel guilty which she can’t stand. She responds to this aggressively, with violence and she says the most horrible things and hurtful things. But that’s what I did, I didn’t think right. I told her that I was said because she didn’t called, that I expect from her another thing specially after being there for her in a critical moment. Also, I said that we should have thought better before we got involved, and that was it, an explosion of anger and violence.  She treat me bad, she was mean. Well after the phone call was over I felt relieved and I thought I can’t do this to myself, I can’t tolerate this, I am done with Jacarta from today. And a sense of peace invaded my head, soul and body. Today this is changed, I miss her, it seams like my life is poor and uninteresting without her. I whish that she calls and I’m thinking about what should I say if I call her. How can this be! How can I want someone that hurts me so bad. Who in me still thinks of Jacarta with love despite her telling me to go fuck myself, I don’t want to ear from you again, I don’t care. Even though she knows that this is the worst thing in the world she can tell me. It just rips me apart. I have an irrational reaction as my life is at risk. I guess it’s a panic attack. It hurt so much you don’t want to know.

There are many good and amazing things about Jacarta. She brings emotion, dignity, colour, joy, pleasure, aventure, warm, to my/any life. She is very tempting and seductive but she is a dangerous and powerful person that can brings someone/anyone down. When I talk about her a friend of mine, Canada, says I’m describing a drug.

Yesterday, I promised myself that I’d would be myself a little more Jacarta and that I’d cultivate my personal interests so I don’t need her or anyone to fill the emptiness.

I’ll be writing about my interests here and write a manifests of intentions about life. I’ve started already in the post Projectos 1.0 and I will develop it furthermore.

Projectos 1.0

Hoje decidi que vou escrever num canto, seja papel ou digital, sobre os meus projectos, as coisas que quero fazer ou ter. Tendo em contas as circunstâncias do agora – estou na cama da filha de uma amiga, num quarto bem acolhedor cheio de cor de rosa – e que só chego a casa amanhã, começo já aqui. É importante aproveitar a energia desta vontade antes que desvaneça e sucumba.

Então já decidi que quero comprar uma autocaravana, quero melhorar a minha casa e quero ter um barco em Mértola.

Vou ter que explorar mais estas ideias, calcular quanto custam e traçar um plano. Também tenho que as colorir mais, viver mais, imaginar melhor.

Estou a passar o fim-de-semana na Arrábida, na casa da amiga Tolstoi, e está a ser bom. Fizemos um jantar de amigos hoje, vieram cá ter a Narcisa, a Magnólia e estava também o Malvin. Senti-me quase sempre bem. Os cigarros destroe-me, tirar-me a capacidade de interagir. Faço tudo para pôr os outros a falar e faça-o bem. Revelam sem dificuldades ou constrangimentos o que lhes vai na alma. O difícil está em gostar de me ouvir ou em falar sobre os assuntos com fluidez, convicção e vivacidade. Além dos meus assuntos pessoais, pouco partilho das minhas opiniões, acho que me sinto em perigo de me expressar frontalmente, tenho pavor que me dê um bloqueio depois de expressar a minha opinião caso o meu interlocutor não concorde ou até esteja frontalmente em desacordo. É estranho.

Hoje a Jacarta só me mandou uma breve fotografia por mensagem e nada mais. Eu respondi passadas algumas horas e não comunicàmos mais durante o dia todo. Passou-me o stress de não comunicarmos e estive quase sempre calma e tranquila. Só ontem é que tive medo que o seu silêncio quisesse dizer que não me quer na sua vida. Hoje estive quase sempre serena e com a certeza de que estamos relativamente juntas.

Mas não é sobre isto este post, aqui é sobre os projectos de futuros embora escritos não parecem tão excitantes e entusiasmantes como quando os imaginei. Parecem banais até. Na verdade, sem pessoas os meus projectos ficam desinteressantes e o pior é que é sem pessoa até. Sendo que há 6 anos que não encontro um pessoa dessas. Minto, há Jacarta e Canadá.

O Fim do Dia

Estou muito cansada. Talvez tenha sido do cigarro que fumei, fico com a cabeça atabalhoada, vejo tudo mais negro e perco a esperança. Não gostei do telefonema com Jacarta, não me senti amada, querida, cuidada. Rimos muito no meio da conversa e isso foi bom mas muitas vezes pareceram-me coisas forçadas. Esta mulher traz-me cor à vida, sem dúvida que tudo fica mais interessante mas não me sinto especial e não sei porquê. Hoje à tarde disse-me coisas lindas, como eu era um ser humano excepcional, como se sentiu amada e vista por mim como por mais ninguém, como sabia que me iria amar para sempre e, ainda assim, não me sinto segura e protegida por ela.

Também falei com Canadá que me disse  que tinha adorado as nossas férias, que se tinha sentido muito bem, que tinha adorado a praia, a música, os cozinhados, os pequenos almoços, as conversas, os filmes, o sol, tudo. Que estava espantada por ainda transportar a leveza e o ânimo que trouxe desses dias. Estará apaixonada? Surgiu uma nova dinâmica entre nós nestas férias, demos a mão, trocámos afectos e carinhos, mas nunca nos beijamos. Vontade não me faltou mas faltou-me coragem. Somos amigas há tantos anos e é uma amizade de que eu não quero prescindir.  Se não dá certo como fica a nossa relação? E tenho medo que não possa expressar toda ou nem grande parte da minha necessidade emocional com ela por ser uma pessoal essencialmente racional e com uma grande necessidade de espaço. Mas sei que se ela der o passo eu não hesitarei.

A minha vida está uma confusão. Jogo em todas as frentes na esperança de alguma coisa da certo ou que a soma de todas as partes ser algo de suportável.