Monsters

One of my favorite old pastimes was watching psychological thrillers, serial killers documentaries and local hauntings. Teaching small children, I have been slowly integrating psychology into my every day life and theirs. Watching them grow from tiny, angry psychopaths into beautiful, regulated children is an amazing reward of my job. When I was at WKU, I studied child psychology many times in different classes and it really just taught me more about myself. It's interesting when you focus outward, sometime you also tend to heal your inward. However, when we focus on the good, we mustn't forget the bad, the evil, the subhuman.

I've been delving into the Monster series on Netflix. It started with Dahmer a few months back; I've watched the Ed Gein story and currently watching the Lyle and Erik Menendez story. It's wild to see that monsters are not always born, that they can be created by neglect, abuse, war or a mix of all of the above. They are created by a series of unfortunate, traumatic events that can be chronic. At times, it's one thing that is the catapult to murder, but then sometimes it's continuous, ominous happenings that change your DNA and make you into someone bad, someone who uses their magic for evil.

We all have magic. We can use it for good or for evil. Money can be used for good or evil, so can weapons, and so can words. We create our reality, our lives and we put our boundaries up to feel safe. We use magic every day- whether we are manipulating an outcome or whether we are using intentional kindness and radical honesty is up to us. So if we are magic, we are medicine, we are intuitive, we are pure animals and we are still children. So I ask today, are you using your magic for good...or for evil? Are you intentionally lying and deceiving yourself, your partner, your people.. or are you using your words to create, to learn, to grow? Are you leaning more towards the psychosis of your life or the magic that you have within you that is weird, strange and wonderful?

How much of society are you making into the standard human response? Are you listening to yourself and making your kinks feel subhuman? Are you depending on social norms to tell you who you are and what you like? I, myself, am not a huge fan of the word "social norms" because who is to say what's normal? Normal is a setting on a dryer, not a human being. There are things that we all do like bleed, sexual desires and triggers and have flesh and meat suits but we are inherently all same, but different. How much of our differences really truly matter? I am full of questions lately as I am stepping into new territory by stepping into my feminine. It's awkward, it feels unsafe, I feel strange, loud and obnoxious all while I feel peaceful and like I am coming home. Weird. It's all strange. The Cheshire Cat said it best.

Hello, trauma! It's me, Gabi.

     Hello, my dear readers!!! I am forewarning you, this blog post won't be an easy one. It wasn't easy for me to write it and for some of you that love me, it won't be easy to read it. And whatever happens, the show must go on.. so here it goes. I hope everyone had great holidays like 4th of July, Labor day, and such. I hid in my house and prayed my heart rate evened out enough for me to be able to breathe. Even this many years later, I am still affected by some things that should have normalized after 24 years in America, but nope- the body keeps a score. Having a trauma brain is a forever prison and it just helps to decorate the walls. 

  

  I am not really sure where to begin on this topic because there are many layers to be peeled back when it comes to my traumatic experiences. Trauma does not just root in the things happened, it also roots in betrayal, neglect, being an empath and many other experiences. If you have not properly worked through your traumatic events and you are still bleeding from those cuts, you will end up bleeding on people who didn't cut you. This often means projections of pain, trust or anger issues, commitment phobia, and many others ways you could inject someone else with your bullshit. See, I sit and feel my emotions now. I try to recognize my triggers, set boundaries and breathe through an event, but sometimes that is impossible. For example, 4th of July fireworks are SO fucking pretty but it scares the shit out of my trauma brain- mostly when I can't see them. I know they are only fireworks and I know they can't hurt me, but the sound triggers me and immediately puts me in fight or flight status. Sprinkle some social anxiety onto that and I am ready to jump out of my skin.

     For me and my story, it begins before the war and a little before my parents divorce when a new man or two were introduced to mine and my sister's life. Shortly after they divorced, my mother remarried one very mean and abusive man, but also someone who held us together; who on some days woke up to make my life hell and no one can tell me otherwise. And when he did these things, it was always my fault. I internalized those things and made them my own. For the longest time, I thought something was wrong with me and that's why people loved me toxically and violently. Being told that he loved me most also stung like a thousand bees (still does, which is why I refuse to hear it). Fast forward to now, I am finally not so angry when it comes to him. He passed away in 2013 and I was there beside him on his death bed. Why? I am the bigger person; his trauma will not ruin me. It's taken me years of therapy and years of work on myself to get that way. I talk to him now- especially when I am walking my favorite trail around the cemetery. 

War had torn our country apart, and all for the sake of land, power and religion. After my mother remarried, we still weren't safe in Bosnia; her new last name only protected her. Being a refugee at 9 years old, having to sleep in a camp, trust strangers and make it safely across the border? I'd say that leaves a bit of a scar. We experienced a few years of normalcy while we lived with my father in Croatia, and I finally felt that I had a family I was longing for. I had friends, I loved my school-- I even had a boyfriend (we were 11 years old; it was serious- I was gonna marry him). I was learning how to ride a bike. Nightmares had stopped. Life was good. Until it wasn't again. My sister Manuela left for America with my mother in Nov '96 and I was supposed to come when I finished 8th grade, or so I thought. Papers came saying my mother had me and my brother booked for 9/29/1997. You can imagine the discontent but the promise of a better life loomed. We boarded the bus to Vienna while I watched the three most important men in my life cry as they were letting me go. We spent the night in NYC and then boarded another plane to Nashville. I stepped off the plane and SURPRISE- mom is 9 months pregnant!!! I was shook, but then my big little love was born a month later. 

Shit went down for many years after that--that's a whole other long story, but my intention in sharing a little piece of my life is to remind all of you to be kind to people. We all have lives that we have lived that have been affected by things that may still be affecting us. Please, be kind to people, be curious, ask questions and let's normalize talking about mental health and setting our boundaries so we don't get triggered and affected negatively. Let's normalize communication again, calling each other like it's the 90's and having solid friendships rather than 300 Instagram likes. PLEASE?! Human decency is dying and we are part of the problem. 

How are you, really?

Hello, my dear bloggers!!!

How are you all? How are you managing in this crazy world of ours? 2020 has been shit. I mean the pandemic has really made a huge impact on the entire world, overseas and here. I worry about both, because I have family in both. I hope everyone is staying safe, wearing masks and staying a 6 ft. distance from others. As an empath, I completely feel how this has impacted most of you. On top of that, most of us deal with daily bull in our lives anyway whether it's work, family or personally related. And if this isn't the cherry on top of it all, some of us deal with mental health issues that make life that much harder to swim through. We must keep swimming, tho!

Now, there's that one thing that no one wants to talk about...Mental health! We actually would have to sit in our feelings and talk about them then. Haha! Well, starts with me first! 

Today was rough for me. I'm a big girl and I admit my things. All my things, cause how are you otherwise able to grow from them? In my conversations with family, I've found out a lot of things over the course of a few weeks regarding health, financial stress overseas, work stress and personal issues. It's rough anyway plus sprinkle 2020 all over it. I have to take deep breaths and I have to ground myself most of the time to only focus on things I can control and that are in my power to change. But I feel....All of the things. So when I ask people how they are, I truly mean how are you..to your core?

Thankfully, 4th of July has passed and for me that brings back a lot of bad. This year it affected me differently, and even though I was spending it with friends, it wasn't going the way I needed it to. This 2020 anxiety is a lot different. It's a surprise every time my PTSD wants to wake up. Most of the time I can control and figure out how to human again, but sometimes it takes me on a different adventure. This year, thank God, I breathed through every firework unseen like a champ, although my heart was pounding out of my chest. I like that my neighborhood obeyed the 11pm rule, and did not go past that, but there were some in the distance that I still heard well into the am hours. I know this is a time to celebrate for most of my American brothers and sisters, but damn man. For us war refugees..for us with PTSD, you're killing us once a year. Not just once a year, but several days before and after your one day of celebration. It's rough! 

*Steps down off my little soapbox*

So, how are you, really? 

Parents

Oh you chose me. For whatever reason you chose to have me. I've often wondered why God said "Those parents!" and just handed me over. Mom, I just never could be a full girl; but as I'm finding out you're not much of one either. Dad, I am the best son you've ever had; I take care of myself and you've never really had to worry about paying for my dresses, books and college. I took care of me. You both have taught me so much and I just cannot thank you enough. It hasn't been an easy road and the fact that it's still unsure is a bit disconcerting.  There are many things you've taught me; there are many things I've had to learn on my own when I wasn't ready. I grew up fast, and hard, I learned things the hard way and I've been put through hell. You've been there times to pick me up and often, it was great timing. I didn't have to ask. I never did.  My dear parents, you tried your best. Of that, I'm pretty sure. I cannot thank you enough for being there for me when I needed you the most and when I didn't think I had it in me to keep going. For some reason, I always found my way back to you; whether it was to visit Dad back home in Croatia, move in with mom or move mom in after life decides to show its ugly side.

20 years later

So, 20 years since I've been back to my hometown in Bosnia and I am nervous. I am travelling in May and coming back in June with my sister and my mother. My father doesn't know I'm coming and neither does my grandmother. I want it to be a nice surprise. I have many emotions running through me about going back. I just hope I can handle it. If you don't know why I am nervous, shame on you for not keeping up with World news and if you are younger than 20 years old, disregard that comment.

In 1992, war broke out in Bosnia and many of us were chased out of our homes, our families and friends were killed and we left our country in refuge for a better tomorrow. My sister and I had to leave after the war was over in 1995 and we moved to Croatia to be with our father.
Many of my memories are suppressed deep down and it will take years of therapy to recollect all of the things I forgot. Not to mention, many of us have undiagnosed PTSD and it affects us daily in our lives. Most of our people found refuge in America and it wasn't easy starting a new life. We dealt with prejudice, religious bashing, nightmares and general terrorizing from the American people. Don't get me wrong; not everyone was the same. There are some genuinely good human souls out there. I am forever thankful to live here and be safe, but not everyone feels the same about us being here. We are intruders, job-stealers, terrorists, corrupt, ugly reminders of the past.

Now, after 20 years I am going back to the place that started it all. Going back to the place where my memories lie buried, to the place that set the standards of my growing up. I had the best childhood growing up. We didn't have distractions like kids today have. We were raised to respect, work hard and to stand up for what we believed in. We had happiness; genuine, innocent friendships. I miss my family and want to see them! But..I'm scared. I'm scared that the memories will come rushing back and I will come unhinged. I'm scared that I may go and not come back the same person I've become or worse.

I hope this trip opens my eyes, brings my memories back so I can remember where I came from and instills all of my family morals further. I hope it's a growing experience instead of just revealing scary skeletons in my closet.

I hope...I'll keep you updated.