hear my thoughts

I want this page to be a place where I can rant about everything and anything, where I can just dump my ideas and jump-start a type of creative thinking I thought I lost many years ago.

So that's why this page will be weird. It will also definitely be personal and chaotic. I'll be using both English and Polish when posting here, since Polish is my first language. In time, you'll probably find many different things here: rants, random thoughts, my writing, photos, reviews, recommendations, or maybe even recipes. I don't know exactly.

What I do know is that I really fucking hope creating this page will help me get to know myself better and regain what I cry over the most- the insane amounts of creativity I had when I was twelve.

As far as introductions go, I still haven't really introduced myself. I'm a 22-year-old English philology student from eastern Poland, but currently living in the western part. I don't think I'm ready to tell you my name yet, but maybe someday I will.

If my chaotic scribbles help you, or if you see yourself in my jumbled, ADHD-fueled brain, then stay and take from my thoughts what resonates with you. Go be your true self, as I'm trying to be now.

PS: I don't really know how to use Tumblr from the writer's pov, and I'm still learning how to use it, so for a while the posts will probably look a bit like shit! <3

so now i decide to find it on some other free sites cuz as much as i like laughing at twilight for the nth time, i aint paying for this shit

and so im scrolling and scrolling and the sites either open up but buffer for a long time throughout the movie OR the sites are advertised on google as "watch twilight for free now blah blah blah" and i open it up and it says i have to PAY for it BRO WHAT DO U NOT UNDERSTAND ABT FOR FREE LIKE WDYM

"Oi! And where are you running off to in such a rush?" I heard my nan's voice. It was this type of shout you could only hear while doing something incredibly ridiculous.

"Well, work! It's-" I looked at my watch briefly. "It's 7:30, I have to go!" I ran down the stairs, practically did a very swift U-turn into the hall, and pushed my leather bag onto a dresser. I began lacing my shoes when I saw the older woman walk up to me slowly.

"Yes, it is 7:30. Have you had your breakfast or, more importantly, have you had any tea yet, darling?" she said so calmly, as if time itself was only a silly concept of a modern man.

I looked up at her with darting eyes and saw her gentle, yet stern face. She always reminded me of a wise owl, what with her long, grey hair tucked neatly into a bun, and her almost ever-present composure. Compared to her, right now, I must've looked like a crazy person.

"Granny, I promise, I will drink tea with you and eat something when I get back home. I just- I can't right now! I'm already late," I said, getting up now, and reaching for my jacket.

"I'm sorry, darling, but are you in the army?" I heard her voice grow more serious.

"W-What?" I looked at her in absolute confusion. What even is this question?

"No? Well, is your sister in labour, then, perhaps?"

"What? No, granny, she's not due-" I shook my head.

"Well, then, you must be the Queen, then, aren't you?" she deadpanned.

"Gran, are you having-"

"Then it is not important," she grabbed my arms firmly, but gently. "If it is not a matter of life and death, it can wait, love." I looked at her in a sort of disarmed confusion, as she led me straight to the kitchen. "If the Queen herself can find ten minutes a day for tea, then so can you, darling." She sat me down at the kitchen table. I sighed, a bit in annoyance, a bit in surrender.

She put two teacups in front of us, as she sat down next to me. She reached for the teapot, and the smell of Earl Grey almost instantly hit my nose.

"Some things in life are important, but not as important as you might think," she hummed, pouring us the hot tea. "If you start your adult life, showing everyone around you that you do not value yourself enough to take time in order to take care of yourself, they will treat you that same way," she looked me in the eyes and put her hand on my cheek lovingly. "And you're worth this and so much more, darling."

It felt like my heart was going to break for a second. I hung my head slightly, not being able to look her in the eye any longer. She was right, I was doing it again. I forgot what this kind of rush led me to last time.

"Now, now," she touched my chin and pushed it up ever so slightly, so that I would look at her again. "Don't get sad now, dear. Come on, drink your tea, and all will be well again."

I gazed down at my teacup, noticing the rich, brown colour of the tea, saw how it swirled around my spoon. I could see slight glimmers of sunlight and hope in my cup, so I put it to my lips.

That one warm, comforting sip felt as though it were a magic potion that made everything better.

I'm angry.

Almost everything seems to be making me upset, causing emotions that range as far as from sadness to actual anger. I'm irritated that I'm irritated. If that even makes sense.

I'm guilty.

I'm trying to process my emotions, cuz it feels like if I hadn't, I'd ask my boyfriend to drive me to a nuthouse. But then, it takes time. It takes effort. It takes patience. All of which I have no time for right now. I need to be writing my Bachelor's, not think about why hearing the birds and the trees in the morning in a little village near a lake literally made me cry.

I'm tired.

I noticed I can't get enough sleep. With or without pills, I always wake up more tired than I have ever since I started taking care of my health. It really makes no sense, since I don't do a lot due to the executive paralysis. And that makes me feel guilty even more.

I'm scared.

I'm worried that all of the progress I've made regarding my health has already gone to shit in such a short time. All just because I'm having a tough time. And dieting in support of my health is getting harder. Because of the stress, my period was late. By two fucking weeks. I was crying all the time, just gobbling down every chocolate thing in sight. I fucking forgot that that means I need magnesium. So I fucking kept eating. Now I feel like I actually got behind on my diet, and my belly pouch returned. I'm worried that sooner or later, I will get back to my old stress-fueled eating habits. I'm also scared that I will go bald. My hair has been falling out like crazy, and I know that stress certainly isn't helping, but I don't know what to do.

I'm stressed.

I worry that I will let everyone down. My parents and grandparents, for not living up to their perfect expectations and meeting their deadlines. My boyfriend, for not being able to be supportive enough, and for being this really emotional idiot crybaby he has to deal with every day. I know I promised myself that it's high time I finally stopped making decisions based on others' expectations, but it's so hard.

I just feel like a faulty computer with bad wiring. I'm trying to fix it, to fix all of the bad habits and bad system responses, but it's so fucking hard, I feel like I'm gonna explode.

I have no idea what to do with myself now that I have the first free day after all that stress. It's a weird feeling. I feel like it's still in the process of wearing off.

I have no idea what to do. I feel like I'm paralyzed, both by the stress still seeping out of me and by the feeling that even if I started doing something, I just couldn't continue.

I already had that feeling before. Yesterday and today, I decided to play some video games, and as soon as I started, it just felt like my hands were made of lead, like my head suddenly became so heavy, and I got so tired.

I'm tired of feeling this way. I want to do things I enjoy, but I'm too tired to do them. I want to, really, but it feels too tiring, like too much of a commitment.

It sounds ridiculous, I know. I guess it's just one of the ADHD things or something. But I'm just so tired of this bullshit. Normally, I feel like that too, but it's not as strong as it is today. So what's different about today?

I don't know, I'm probably overthinking things. Obviously.

But does anybody know what it really takes to stop that feeling? To finally break free from your own brain's ridiculousness?

So far, I guess there's no medicine for that.

Everything that normally feels interesting now feels boring and too tiring to take up. Does that make sense?

Everything has been feeling irritating for a while now. Music, which I love, rarely feels good now. Music that I usually listen to now feels like a cheese grater in my ear.

I just burst out crying in front of my boyfriend. God bless his soul for putting up with my bullshit, cause even I've had enough of myself already.

He tried to find me something to do, fed me chocolate, and tried to make me smile. He's so sweet. I love him so much.

How do I tell him nothing about me feels right at the moment? Is that even a relatable feeling?

Today I had my finals. Third year, so a lot of stress. I've been stressing over them and my BA for the past few months nonstop.

Two days ago, my grandma died.

My father called me and told me she had died. I started crying, obviously. I mean, it's my grandma dying.

And you know what was the first thing my father told me when he saw me crying?

"Calm down, don't think about it, now you need to focus on your exams!"

What the actual fuck. I already knew my father had an emotional maturity equal to a fucking 5-year-old, but this is some other kind of bullshit, even for him.

Dude, the mother of your wife just died. Your wife is crying, having a real shitty and depressive couple of weeks, and your daughter is crying in front of you because her grandma just died. And what do you do? You tell her to focus on her exams.

Jesus, just read the fucking room.

And here's another thing: he told me they were gonna tell me when the funeral is gonna be, so that I can buy the train tickets and come to the funeral.

Turns out that either by some weird coincidence or by the explicit will of my family, they scheduled the funeral for today. Right at the time of my exams, which they knew about. And the funeral is on the other end of the country.

I'm both so fucking mad and so upset in general. And the worst part is? I have no idea who to be more mad at. My parents, that they won't let me say goodbye to my grandma and grieve her properly; at the universe, for causing this goddamn coincidence; or ultimately myself, that I listened to my parents and went to take my exams instead of boarding a train to my hometown?

The whole morning I was feeling sick. Don't know if it's mostly due to the stress before my exams, or because I was getting ready to go to the wrong thing.

There you have it. There's no poetic point today. Today I'm just angry at I don't even know who exactly.

My grandma's a wonderful woman. When I was a kid, she used to take me on these long walks either around the neighbourhood or to the playground.

She never liked cooking, but did it anyway. She loved feeding people she considered family.

Whenever I told her I had some exams coming, she always told me not to stress about them. "Just pass them. You don't have to have an A to pass. It's okay. Pass them and forget about them."

She passed down her famous honey cake recipe to me. I remember noting it down, all while she told me she never used actual measurements. "Just use feeling", she said.

She always made sure to make my favourite mashed potatoes with spring onions in them. Every time I stayed with my grandparents, she would make them for me. I ate them for lunch, while they were still hot, and then cold, instead of popcorn, when we were watching some dumb movies together.

For the past two years, she's been overfeeding my boyfriend every chance she got. I think it was her way of showing how much she liked him and that she considers him a part of this family.

My grandma's in the hospital.

Recently, my grandparents had some weird virus, which made them sick for like a whole month. They were both feeling and looking awful, so we had to take care of them.

Right after we thought they weren't ill anymore, my grandma came up with a cancer recurrence. She hadn't had any in many years, at least I don't remember her having any in the past 20-something years. And now she had it.

At first, the doctors told us it was in her brain. At her age? Really shitty news. My mom and my aunt had to admit her into the hospital, take care of everything, all while trying not to fall apart. My grandpa's still paralyzed, he has no idea what to do, and at the moment, he's more like a shell of a man than the weird grandpa I remember from my childhood.

I decided to drive down to my hometown to see my grandma before her surgery. I talked to her on the phone before, and she was slurring her words and having jumbled thoughts then, but when I talked to her in person, she seemed to be even worse. My grandma was always rather energetic, talking a lot, moving a lot. Now she was doing the same, but I saw how terrible she was feeling.

But what got me the most, I think, was how incoherent what she was talking about was. All her thoughts cut short, all sentences mixed up and jumbled. I got scared because I saw how scared she was.

She was telling us how, during the past few days, she had three separate dreams where some unknown man hugged her and told her it was going to be okay. I saw my mom trying to keep it together.

I was assuring my grandma, a very religious, Catholic woman, that she had no need to worry. She was scared, I could see that. I told her it was her Guardian Angel, a sign from God. I'm not a religious person; if there's something I believe in, it's clear signs from the universe. Whatever you wanna call it, I don't care. But I want to believe that her dreams had at least some truth in them.

Then my grandma got up and started looking for something, because of course she can't sit down for longer than five minutes. Turns out she was looking for one of her gold chains- Polish grandmas typically put their crosses on them, and the additional chains are just so it can be customizable, I guess. She then sat my mom down and told her that she's supposed to take me to a jeweler and have the guy make me whatever pendant I want, no matter the money and what she wants- it's supposed to be whatever I want.

My mom told her not to worry, and this amazing woman got up again and brought us some apple pie she had baked herself the day before. She said she made it specifically with gluten-free flour for me. I couldn't believe it. She was both feeling and looking like shit, and still made us cake. She couldn't remember what she had for breakfast that day, and yet she still remembered that I can't have gluten right now.

The cake itself was slack-baked, had no sugar (I think she forgot about it), but I ate like three whole pieces. My grandma always made the best apple pies, and they'll always be tasty to me.

Like a week later, she had to be admitted into the hospital again, in time for her surgery. My boyfriend and I tried to call her a few days before, and after the surgery, but each time someone else picked up the phone and told us grandma wasn't feeling so good.

During the surgery, they found new cancer cells in her lungs and guts. She had a breathing tube, could hardly do it on her own. Every time I asked my mom how's grandma been doing these past few days, I heard she's not good. She's stable at the moment, but it's looking bad.

Two days ago was Mother's Day. My mom went to see grandma, since it's her mother. I can't even imagine how shitty she must've felt.

Everything about this was looking bad, but we still had some hope that grandma will be okay.

And, as I'm writing this, I just got a call from my father. He told me that grandma died just moments ago.

Why is there this weird beef between people who like spicy food about who can eat the spiciest?

Is this about endurance, or pain?

Don't get me wrong, I love spicy food, always did, but I think it's the same situation as among other "fan" groups.

Only in this case, you have people arguing whose ass is gonna sting the most later that same day.

Which is really just ridiculous. I mean, it's obviously both about your tolerance (that you have to build over the years) and what culture's food you ate the most growing up. I know people like to joke about that, and sometimes I do it too.

But as I said before, it's not just about who can eat more Buldak ramen.

It's also about for how long you've been listening to a certain band, because if it's only been 3 years, you're not a real fan! I mean, you HAD to have been there 4 years ago to call yourself a true fan!

And it's about these piwniczak type people- in Polish, it means like an incel basement dweller. Why do gamers also have to rate your liking a certain game, for your enjoyment to be equally as valid as theirs? Just because you played the game for only a 100 hours doesn't mean you can't say that you've been loving this game and that, in your opinion, it's a great game!

Why do we always have to compare either ourselves or others to some higher ideal? Especially one that is attainable only for people who devote a lot of time to the thing. And we don't all have time for that!

Life is so much more things for you to be either worrying if you're perceived as a good enough fan, or to be judging if others' enjoyment is valid enough.

Cause what the fuck have we become as people, if we seriously need that kinda sick validation on account of hurting others to feel good about ourselves? Who did this to us?

If you like eating mildly spicy noodles only every Tuesday- so be it. If you've been listening to Metallica for two years, then had a break, and then got back to it for only a year- so be it. If you've been playing Stardew Valley and haven't even gotten to the Ginger Island- really, so fucking be it.

Whatever you do, just break the cycle.

Is it weird that in my mind, my safe space is a little cottage in the woods?

I've been visiting it a lot lately, seriously considering fucking off somewhere unknown, to some small little place I'll be able to afford doing some cooking or baking.

I'd be able to forage for some mushrooms and herbs in the forest, and make an amazing, fresh pasta sauce out of them.

And when I wake up, I'd see sunlight poking through the tall trees, and hear the stream that's near my house. I'd be able to get up whenever I want, make myself some breakfast, and drink my coffee in peace. I'd never be in a rush, never literally feel my cortisol spiking like crazy.

I'd have a small group of close friends, have my boyfriend as my husband, and a bunch of weird animals to keep us company as well. We'd have movie nights, bathe in the stream, and go on long walks in the forest.

The truth is, I've had that little cottage as my safe space for many years now.

Many years ago, my parents sent me to this Silva Method course. My mom is crazy about all sorts of alternative medicine/mental stuff. I was young, and I didn't know what it was about, so I went.

I already had troubles with sleep and focus, so my parents thought the course would be a great thing for me. Turns out, as soon as my brain heard some calming vibrations and a calm voice of the presenter, I fell asleep in like a second. I was actively fighting my eyes not to close, but it was really no use.

I actually fell asleep in the middle of this weird exercise. I still remember parts of it. We were supposed to envision a safe space deep in our brains, as well as two guardians. That place, and these two people, would be like a workplace for our consciousness, along with two helpers.

When I tell you, never have I ever had such a fast and clear vision of what really resonated with me. It was that exact cottage- a fireplace, a comfy couch, a fluffy carpet on a wooden floor. Beautiful, rainy woods outside the window. I think I fell asleep because I finally felt so at home in my own mind.

And even though I didn't really get much out of the exercise (and the course as a whole), the thing I remember the most is that exact cottage.

I actually made this page because of a conversation I had with my mom.

I'm currently in the process of writing my BA paper. Even though I'm writing about something I'm actually interested in (for the first time in who knows how many years), I still struggle with writing it.

I don't know if it's mostly due to stress, lowkey panicking, my years-long writer's block, or the fact that I'm still learning how to manage my damn brain.

I feel guilty about the last part, not gonna lie. I finally got diagnosed with ADHD over a year ago. I thought that would mean that now I'll suddenly be cured of this bullshit, but I guess it's not that easy. I do kinda know that everyone's mental health journey is different, just as everyone is different. And yet I still feel so guilty- as if I didn't do the work I was supposed to do.

I think it's a type of voice in my head I got from my family- "like OKAYYYY if you really want to be mentally ill, so be it, but at least do literally ALL of the work required in as little time as possible so that you don't waste your life on pointless wallowing and just get to work like everyone else!"

I really want my stubborn mind to finally acknowledge that this kinda talk isn't okay and just isn't right. I really do, I swear. But lately I've been noticing more and more that, for some unknown reason, I carry so much guilt in me about literally everything. And it's so tiring, I feel like I wanna cry almost all the time. Other times, I just wanna hide somewhere and just start my life from scratch.

As per the Polish saying: "Jebać wszystko i jechać w Bieszczady". Weirdly enough, I think this saying actually represents that need in me very well. Cause don't get me wrong, I don't wanna disappear from this world. I really think that, although very scary, this world is also so beautiful and full of possibilities. I wanna travel the world, live a life where I'll actually feel safe, understood, and just feel like myself. That's why I really do wanna "fuck everything and go to the Bieszczady Mountains".

And no, it's not about the Bieszczady per se. I've been thinking about a more peaceful, calm, and safe life for a very, very long time now. I've been practically gobbling up these cozy games or movies like crazy for so long. I think I've actually been living with anxiety and depressive episodes for so many years now that a calm life has become an actual dream of mine. I don't dream of big things like many people say I should. I only want a safe life.