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Tag: resilience

  • june still

    june still

    I’m a fan of Kobido. I absolutely love it! Maybe this kind of “slapping the face” helps me come to my senses?! I was there again two days ago. You know what? Indira, the girl I adore (a wonder with hands like vises), decided to put so-called “tapes” on me to help maintain the effect of the treatment. And you know what? She chose super colorful, rainbow ones for me. She said, “I thought these would suit you perfectly.”

    How easy it is to not be able to guess what truly lies within a person.

    Now I feel really good. I’ve done a titanic amount of work to feel the way I do now. A huge effort, driven by the will to live. Yet, even though sometimes it seemed to me that it would be easiest to end this process, I found my notes from that time, not so long ago after all. As I read them now, written on paper, on my phone – whether in emotion or completely without any – that version of me had a significant impact on who I am today.

    I am still ill, but I am already taking care of myself.

  • june 14, 2024

    june 14, 2024

    The brazen shrew has let go, overwhelmed by consistently taking forgotten pills. Mea culpa. Meanwhile, the fragrant fur and its tongue, carefully licking a watermelon, bring me great happiness. I am happy simply because I am.

    Yesterday, my favorite clients, the Mili couple, made me realize that I am suffering from a fatal illness. That sounds a bit scary. Speaking of “scary” — yesterday, after what the trainer and I agreed was a nice, good training session, while enjoying Bon grazing, “Mrs. Good Advice,” emerging from the depths of the fragrant, museum-like little house, suddenly spoke up, chewing on a cigarette.

    She told me that I should ride without stirrups — to improve my seat, that I have a stiff hand and that I raise my leg too high. The lady with the cigarette, squatting and handling various broadly defined tasks, “advised” me. Polish rot showed itself in all its glorious form.

    I was left speechless, and when I said, “I’m learning all over again,” she replied, “But you haven’t had a break.” It tightened—not her remark, but my attempt to understand why people… can be mean. I will never understand.

    All the stories from the past three years, the consistent attempts to overcome the Personal Demon, ultimately give me strength. I think that—almost fifty years old—I’m finally beginning to understand whom I should love the most. Myself.

    PS. To the “Charming Lady,” I wish focus on herself. Maybe it will still bear some good fruit.