Waking up never been easy I wonder where I am Even before I open my eyes I marvel about time and day The timepiece of the matron – what was her name again – Ticks on and on and on Location next to my bed It sounds louder and louder till it suddenly stops
Where am I? Do I need to go or be somewhere Is there a reason to leave my bed Hastily at this very moment Instead of living in oblivion? Too many beatings on the head Capillaries, nerves, threats The awareness something snapped indeed No fasten your veins instead of seatbelts
Not a clue where I am I start thinking, imagining, gathering the thoughts Why is it they see a grey, foggy personality While beautiful colours pass by My head is never empty It has never been Shades of green, poppy red, Sunflower yellow Endless cornfields where deer hide
The smell of the mattress with seagrass Granny’s hot chocolate and cake Panic in Spain Third teeth stuck in a glass The awareness I’ll never go home again Domesticated Strangled Gagging over white pudding with so many red and green pieces
Bittersweet Flashes of pain, humiliation, pity, the reality Hurt neighbourhood, children Enough of it! I memorized it all, the wakeup call included Brainwashed, falsified truth More bread and pancakes than I liked to eat Another extent begs to be seen The world one meets when caught by a story
Lack of commendation Not recognised by Passed station already as a child I’m still around, this is me The memory of the blue lagoon The black mirror, sea, Malta, Sicily Crying and smiling with the wolves Black cobra, Out of Africa No godfather took my hand, protected me
The world can be such a good place – Grandfather’s geese in the orchard – Once we embrace, recognize true love The ally, comrade till eternity All this is me Never good enough to be accepted, respected, liked by those who should but never could Tied by different needs, too much emptiness
What does it take to drive one crazy To overlook the present, all that once mattered To set foot into another immortality Everlastingness, depression The psyche minding its own business instead of age The inability to wake up, get off the floor How to recognize dirty games setups Knowing the theatrical scene isn’t the real thing Freedom of the spirit hidden behind norms set by an elite and masks.
At times I lose the mind you defined as me lately A different intellect, the ghost set free from the bottle Sanity, rationality, psyche Still exist in a different dimension Overcoming, gathering the reflections within minutes, seconds Does it look like a loss? I am not gone, fallen Because I wane tea and biscuits today
Time flew by. There was no reason why the three boars should look back. Going home? Their normal life was gone, taken from them. It was done without regret or delay. If the news spread was true all pigs just like ma Swine were dead. After a not too long sickness, she ended up in bed. Finally, Senior thought, the best of all was she had died alone.
There was no reason to cry or grieve. All he felt was a relief. It had been her life her choice. She had kicked them out back then, without any remorse. They’d agreed never to set a paw inside her miserable hut again.
Senior, the eldest of the three was satisfied felt happy. He loved the freedom, his booze, to celebrate from early in the morning till late. He didn’t care about the swine flu or cessation.
“I’m immune ’cause I drink, alcohol is pure It can only infect you,” he notified the other two, “you should take some shots too, it’s the best cure against your worries, emotions, common sense you’ll see. All that unnecessary thinking, trust me it even fights anxiety.”
Together they celebrated the weather and above all the joy of their muddy pool.
“It’s good to live free, I love the country.” Fatso agreed although, he still missed the luxury of well-prepared food. The wolf’s new spouse never baked bread or cake, both loathed rolling through mud and avoided the lake. What made them always go out at night howling at the moon without fearing an experimenter showing up as soon as they started because they coerced the neighbourhood? He liked them but their behaviour didn’t feel good. Should he report them to the government?
“It’s only reasonable they stick to the law like we all. What if they infect you with that crying-out-vibrant disease,” said the sow. “Know we build back better. Isolated black wolves and black sheep isn’t the end.”
Could this new brother skim his brain, was he too naive, too kind? He better start practising a blank mind. Sharing the same dirty hole with these swine woke him up. No way he could stay close, enjoying the dirt with these pigs. In his head, he played the song “You say I ain’t good enough for you, ’cause I don’t behave the way you want me to. I should change my norms, values and attitude, obey otherwise I’m a bad dog. I’m no good, no good, no good…”
The sow unexpectedly hummed along with the hymn playing in his mate’s head and said: “You have the right spirit, brother I knew it. No need to stay, safety is only a call away. Take your responsibility if not for you then for us, since we are your true family.
“Take some firewater to keep the spirits brother,” Senior said with a smile. “A few shots won’t harm you. Do what I do and don’t forget to vote for me your Admiral, after all, we’re in this together. Black wolves’ lives don’t matter. All you need is being a swine and we swines should stick together.”
Source: pixabay.com
A follow up of the tale The three pigs written a while ago first published here
Once you step into a jab centre you made up your mind. You will take that jab for a reason. Your motive. You might want to go out, visit a pub or restaurant, want to travel or go to a festival. You do not take that injection because you deeply care about all those unknown elderly people or the vulnerable. If you take that jab you do it for yourself. That shot gives you hope. The hope to go to the cinema, the hope to enter a shop or in some cases to keep your job. You go for it because you do not dare to say: I pass. Sorry, I’m not a genuine pig I won’t participate in this experiment I care about my health.
If it’s your turn you don’t dare to ask if there are side effects or if it will kill you. The idea might pop up but you ignore these thoughts. If you wait 15 minutes and nothing happens you’ll be alright. Besides all those others took it so why not you? Why should it harm you, after all, you are a good person.
There’s no need to think it over. Why should you think about insurances that might not pay out if there would be a side effect worse than a painful spot? Why should you be one of those few with bad luck? Why should anyone get paralyzed or no longer be able to work or practice sport? You don’t reread the contracts between you and the insurance companies stating you are not allowed to take part in an experiment. Why should you if the government guarantees if something goes wrong you can knock on their door and they will solve all your health and financial issues?
There’s no need to ask yourself why Moderna, J&J, AstraZeneca or all the others who swear their vaccine is safe and makes you immune refuse to pay if any harm is done. Your head already spins of all those different opinions and stories made up. Why should you break your brains about the fact politicians, ministers, kings, queens, VIPs, doctors, virologists and all those consultants are not taking the shot? There’s no reason to doubt about the fact only 3 “scientists” are allowed to spread the news.
Why bother about unvaxxed children abandoned from school? Children who have to follow lessons outside while it’s winter. Children who have to undress in the freezing cold before they can enter the swimming pool. Why should you care? The only one to blame is the parent who refuses to let his child be jabbed for the sake of…
That’s sake is the question. A question no one can answer. Children will not die of any variant of the coronavirus. Not one single child did during the past two years. By now we know the injections do not protect against spreading any virus. Those who are injected and take booster after booster still live in fear. If these shots don’t stop spreading a virus, do not make you immune, the side effects harm and kill more people than co-vi-d did why should you take it? To go out and spread the virus? To visit the elderly and put them in danger? To travel abroad and end up in quarantine? To give a good example to your children? If this is the case I wonder what all those children will say about their parents. Perhaps not now but in five, ten, fifteen or twenty-five years. Will they be proud of their folks and say: You did a great thing and saved us, the world?
Will disabled people still exist or will healthy people be a rarity? No matter what the scenario will be healthcare in the nearest future will no longer be available for the minority. Sick, disabled people are a burden to each society and not only for parents or children who have to deal with it. In the future, there won’t be money for healthcare. It’s even questionable if there are good, trustworthy doctors, nurses, caretakers left. People who won’t kill you with one injection or pill because you are no longer needed.
Would it have made any difference if the one who gave you that jab had informed you about all the health dangerous risks you take? The site howbad.info didn’t exist yet as this experiment started but if you couldn’t have consulted it before you received that jab and without your lot number.
Imagine if those who gave the injections would have informed everyone. Would they have asked what a seizure or paralysed person looks like? Would they have stepped out of that line, turned around and gone back home? Would you if they told you you would be infertile or dead in 2023? Would you’ve changed your mind if they informed you objectively and told you you have over 85% to get harmed and your natural immune system will never function again? I don’t think so.
Indeed all those who didn’t inform each client they injected about the risks of joining medical experiments committed a crime. It is against the law and if done on purpose (in this case it is) it’s a crime. This indeed means every vaccination centre is a crime scene. Crime scenes should be investigated. Being vaccinated with an experimental injection is no law. It is what they did in concentration camps during the second world war. It is against the Nürnberg code! Since no government changed the law this means you lined up out of your own free will. I believe if you would have been informed you still would have taken that injection because you trust a company like AstraZeneca who has been sued more than once and your fear lead you. You would have ignored what the doctor said. How do I know? Because many great doctors, specialists, virologists and scientists said so. They informed and warned about what could happen. They were laughed at, scolded at and reported by their patients, removed on social media and called conspiracy terrorists by colleagues, the media and you.
The bitter truth is these “conspiracy terrorists” turn out to be right. After (more than) two years of predicting what would happen, telling us how we would be fooled, fall for the lies, how easily we would let ourselves be divided readily to fight and blame the opposite, we still think the next shot will save our life. We still believe we go back to normal while our impatience increases. In the meanwhile, we fear those we harmed, those we blamed for our (bad) choices and misery, our lack of courage. The anxiety for what the new normal will bring eats us but most of all we worry about the consequences of our deeds.
I believe 2022 will be the year of truth. Perhaps not the year of justice and tribunals about crimes committed against humanity but the truth will be known. No way we go back to normal but hopefully, we build a new normal together. A normal build on trust with love, energy and hope for the future. A chance for our children, the next generation without the shame we brought over them by our behaviour, lack of courage. The only way to do so is by staying strong, united and taking responsibility for our own deeds instead of making excuses of why we did what when and for which reason. The only thing that counts is we show and spread love and do our best from now on.
Out of bed at 6 am and cleaning my room. Why do I have to push the bed in the middle of the room and lift all small furniture on it every day so it’s easier for her vacuuming? Just like me, the vacuum cleaners in our house never has a day off. It’s 6 o’clock and I’m already super tired. I didn’t sleep much and don’t think it will get any better. My mother kept screaming and I tried not to hear her. It’s hard. The walls are not keeping her voice out. I can hear children playing outside, my mother’s car if she arrives in the street, the neighbour playing drums and Bart making music. He lives next to our neighbours. If I can hear all these sounds people can hear her too. Breakfast with my parents at seven, breakfast in silence a choking silence. I’m never allowed to speak so that isn’t new but usually my parents do. I should say my mother is. She’s the one who talks, talks, talks, repeats herself and repeats herself and repeats herself and tells you to repeat what she said which I can’t. So I keep my mouth shut which makes her furious. If I try to repeat what she said I can’t remember the exactly right words. The thing is she always says the same so after the first words I shut down. I close my ears and try not to hear her. I eat my bread and focus on my plate, on eating. I don’t want to hear her voice. She rattles on and on and on it’s always the same. How great she is, how ungrateful others are, blah blah blah.
Why don’t I have a normal mother? A mum like Ellen, Louis or Françoise has? A mother with a normal voice who lets you play with other children instead of punishing you for everything she can think of? I watch dad slicing cheese for his bread. If he doesn’t answer she will attack him. He never needs to repeat what she says. I wonder how auntie is doing. She no longer visits us. Will she go to grandmother if it’s Christmas? I don’t want to hear her voice but it fills the kitchen. If I close my eyes I hear that voice everywhere around me.
Why did dad marry her? Did she ever say a sweet thing or was it her dad’s money? Grandpa is dead. There won’t be money for him. He’s no family but the man my grandparents never wanted for their daughter. Dad doesn’t look very happy. Perhaps he will sing if he cleans the bathroom and kitchen? Her hand smacks me in the face. My head slams against the wall. “Are you sleeping again? Stand up, you lazy kid. No one is as lazy as you. Why don’t you comb your hair!” All I can do is stare at her. I have nothing to say. Whatever I would say isn’t good enough to make her forget her anger, make her like me. I try not to touch my face or head while I look her straight into the eyes. She looks at me, observes me, waits till I say something. She turns around abruptly and slams the door behind her. “Get up you’ll be fine,” dad says. He didn’t help me. He gave up risking his neck for me. “Let’s clean up the place before your mother is back.” He starts cleaning up the breakfast table and I go back upstairs. The rooms, stairs and hallways, toilet and living room are my task. No polishing shoes today. I don’t know who will vacuum since she isn’t there. If she comes back at the end of the day she’ll be mad because the house is a mess. That’s how she calls it a mess.
I don’t feel like cleaning. Everything is clean. I pile up the small furniture on the beds in each room. I clean doors and doorknobs and wipe the dust not a single person can see. In each room, I wait till the time is over. The time it takes to clean a room to her standards. I don’t hear her, I don’t hear her car. It’s silent till dad comes upstairs and starts singing while he cleans the bathroom. I clean the toilet. Tile after tile. Another door on which I’m not going to spend 33 times scrubbing on.
How many times did I step outside to knock the dust out of the duster?
The living room is the only place where furniture can remain at its place on Saturdays. It’s clean like always. The Christmas tree is still outside. Will she be back to decorate it? I sit on the floor and wait. My head hurts. I touch the spot. Blood. She’ll be mad if there’s blood on the furniture or carpet but I have to lay down. Dad comes downstairs and I hear him enter the kitchen. Later I’ll tell him I finished my tasks. I like to listen to the sound of the clock. Dad sings again.
Dad told me to help him to set up the tree in the living and he put the lights on. The smell of the tree fills the air. Shocked I was as I looked at the floor. A trace of needles everywhere from the living through the hallway and kitchen. “We’ll vacuum it before your mother is back, after that we get the boxes with decoration,” dad said. It felt as if he had everything under control and no longer cared about what she would say or do. “No hiking today?” “No, it’s vacation. Dad… I don’t want to go hiking ever again.” “I know.”
The day didn’t end too bad. The bakery delivered boxes with bread, cookies, cakes, a Christmas loaf and chocolates. My mother came home with bags with stuff she bought and decorated the tree. It took her hours because it has to be perfect. She made a mess again and vacuumed the living three more times. She didn’t say sorry or look at me. I stood there and watched her. Unsure if I was allowed to leave or had to wait for a new order. She let me put some ‘angel’s hair’ on the ranks. It looks nice but it hurts if you touch it. The tree looks beautiful all silver with white of the ‘hair’ and the yellow big candle lights. My mother knows how she has to decorate a tree, furniture a house and how to spend too much money.
Saturday December 18, 2021
I visited Sunday school and my parents went to church. If I don’t comb my hair straight you can’t see the blood on my head. It’s cold so I wear a hat outside. The teacher didn’t notice it.
Sunday December 19, 2021
No school, no housekeeper just me and my mother cleaning. To my mother, it’s an ordinary Monday. She works 24/7 and if she doesn’t work we clean. In the morning we start cleaning till she has to go. She leaves if someone calls her or if she visits people at their homes. She visits in the afternoon. A few evenings a week people visit us. Dad says he has things to do. He left.
I don’t like staying home during vacations. Vacations at home are good for more cleaning, scolding, whipping and pain. That’s all it’s good for.
In the evening I’m allowed to sit in the living and watch the tree. The living is for weekends only. I spend the most time in my room or the kitchen if I’m not at school and have to clean the house.
Monday December 20, 2021
The living is in the Christmas mood my mother isn’t. Her mood goes up and down. I’ll never know what she will say or do next. I don’t trust her and am glad I don’t need to share a bed with her like dad. If she kills him who takes care of me?
Tuesday December 21, 2021
On television is more Christmas spirit than at home. I’m afraid of my mother. She acts weird. Dad says nothing and stays in the little room upstairs. She keeps walking up and down while saying the same words over and over again. Can’t she just sit down for a moment and act like a normal person? I try to watch telly but it’s hard with her around. She can snap any minute. We didn’t have tea yet. I leave and hide on the toilet and try to think about what to do. I can put the kettle on and make us some tea. I go ask dad if he likes some tea. Back downstairs I fill the kettle with water and put it on the cooker and wait. I wait at the kitchen table and try not to touch more things than necessary. My mother always knows if something is touched, moved. It’s good enough for the next scene. Why is she walking up and down? Is she crazy? I fill the teapot and a dad’s mug. I’ll give him first before I ask her. Back in the hallway I no longer hear her voice behind the door in the living. Should I enter or drink my tea first? I knock on the door and carefully open it. She stands in front of the tree. “Mother do you want some tea?” She turns around stares at me as if I’m a stranger. “Yes,” she says and follows me to the kitchen. “Take some cookies.” We sit at the table and she pushes the wooden cookie box over the tablecloth towards me. The madness disappeared.
Wednesday December 22, 2021
Today felt like a better day. I read the book school gave me again and my mother was in a chocolate mood. She ate a lot of chocolate and butter cookies. Not if it’s coffee time or tea time but just so. I don’t like the butter cookies and chocolate she buys. It’s made by the baker. Grandmother’s chocolate is better. She buys small bars of chocolate with hazelnut or Koetjes bars (the wrap is blue-white with a cow on it). Always five wrapped together. I don’t think she eats them. It’s for the visitors, sometimes she gives me one. It’s the only sweet my grandmother has in the cupboard. My mother’s cupboards are filled and one huge drawer of the antique cabinet is for cookies, cakes, chocolate, pastries only. Perhaps her mother never gave her candy?
Thursday December 23, 2021
At 5:30 I’m out of bed. The laundry will be collected and the clean laundry taken back. We have enough sheets for at least twelve beds. My mother started the day in a good mood but halfway through the day, it changed after grandmother called. Tomorrow we will visit grandmother and the next day granny. Each year with Christmas it’s the same routine. Granny cooks too but we never had Christmas dinner with her.
At midnight we visited the church. It was crowded and I couldn’t sit anywhere. I don’t like to be in a cold church in the middle of the night and listen to a story I already know. A story about the hope for peace, love and light. Peace, love and light? Try to live with my mother for a week or better month and all the hope and dreams you had are gone. If you are lucky you get out sane. Jesus is lucky his mother isn’t like mine or perhaps he’s not. With a mother like mine you wish you were dead. If no one believes you, everyone is blind for what she does there’s no reason to stay alive. What is a lifelong scolding and beating worth? Even in church, I hear her voice. That voice is always in my head. It’s hard not to change into that man Norman Bates. He knows how it is if you can’t escape out of your mother’s claws. Jesus didn’t rescue either did god. It is as it is. If there’s a plan for everything it means God doesn’t care and he won’t come to your rescue. He wants you to suffer. I don’t believe that old man preaching. He says what they all say but never talks about real life, real suffer and pain.
Happy to be home back in bed even my bed is cold.
Friday December 24, 2021
Not much sleep. Out of bed at 6 am. Merry Christmas… I’ve watched a film on television. Grandmother doesn’t have a tree. Auntie and my new uncle came for having Christmas dinner with us. Soup, goose, dessert and coffee with apple pie. I like grandmother’s dining table and chairs. The legs are claws of an animal. We didn’t sleepover. My mother was angry and granny was too. Dad drove us back home. Tomorrow I will see granny. A long drive in the car again. The light of the star of Bethlehem in front of our window was on. Welcome home.
Saturday December 25, 2022
It was good to see granny is still alive. My uncle was home and another uncle came with his wife and children. I don’t really know them just my uncle. I like him most of all uncles I have. We ate nothing special but it doesn’t matter. I can’t eat much anyway. Again soup, rice and beans and meat and chocolate custard. We had coffee and cake and I helped granny do the dishes. I like her gas heater and watched it burn. No one talks to me. Uncle didn’t stay long. My other uncle can be a bully and hates my mother and the adults talk to or fight with each other. It doesn’t matter if it’s Christmas or not. There’s no love, no hope, no light wherever we go.
Sunday December 26, 2021
Days pass by. The tree is the only light in the darkness even if it loses its needles. My mother waters it daily. I think it’s too warm inside and it starves. What is cut dies. It will be hard to get it out of here. Mother gave me chocolate wreaths at tea time. She sang. I hope she isn’t up to something bad again. Dad visited uncle G. He never takes me over there. I’m not sure if my mother was there. I think she likes him somehow. She doesn’t like people and never forbids me to take his candies.
I had to come along with her as she visited the people. I felt bored and it’s cold in the car if she doesn’t drive. The car makes me sick and it takes long before she comes back if she visits someone. Why do I have to sit and wait in the car? Why?
Wednesday December 29, 2021
Tomorrow we visit grandmother again. She’ll bake oliebollen and apple beignets. I like the apple beignets most of all.
I didn’t need to clean that much and was allowed to go outside. It’s not so cold. No snow. It doesn’t feel like Winter. I didn’t know what to do or where to go to. I watched some children play and met Ellen. We searched for coins on the paths behind the row of houses where she lives and followed the path to where I live. Some mothers were outside frying oliebollen just like last year. It makes it smell nice outside.
Thursday December 30, 2021
Laundry day. The last day of the year. No illusions it will get any better. My mother won’t change into a beautiful fairy if the clock strikes twelve. She will be ugly on the inside forever sneaky, mean, violent. At 10 o’clock she received a phone call. She sounded agitated finished her coffee with cake and went to her room. She had to do her hair and makeup first which takes hours. She called for me and my task was to check her hair. She doesn’t need me she has 4 mirrors plus doesn’t believe what I say anyway. It took and took and those people called again which made her angry with me. Finally, she left. I felt relieved, cleaned up everything and took another cup of tea. I put the dishwasher on. It’s not difficult and I know we won’t leave if she finds tasks to be done. Dad left. I hope he is back home before her. I’m not sure what to do. I checked every room if it’s clean. My mother hates dust and dirt and every single item needs to be right at its spot. Should I vacuum the stairs an extra time? I walked the steps she can see it on the carpet. I vacuum underneath the tree and sit on the floor with a dustcloth in my hand. It’s better not to touch anything. She doesn’t only see footsteps but fingerprints everywhere too. I hug the dogs but can’t feed them. If they come with us in the car they feel sick too. If they eat they vomit and make my mother furious too.
She arrived late. Dad bought us something to eat. She didn’t say anything, didn’t complain about what the house looked like. Dad drove us to grandmother. I think grandmother was angry. She said she waited for us the whole day. “Shut up woman,” my mother answered angrily, “you know I have to work.”
If I would only think these words she would wash my mouth with soap and best me to death.
“You could have called.” Grandmother looks at dad but he doesn’t answer.
I went upstairs to the room in the attic. Three long stairs. For New Year’s Eve, we always dress up. Black suit for men and women and girls wear a long dress or skirt. I don’t know why because no one takes a picture and we don’t go outside to wish the neighbours a happy new year. It’s the first thing we do the next morning. So long dress it is just to drink hot chocolate, eat oliebollen and wait till it’s midnight. No one plays with me, talks to me or cares if I’m joining them in the front living room. They watch a show about the past year. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. I have no clue what is talked about on the telly. Grandmother put bowls with oliebollen and apple beignet on the dining table in the back living room. No one cares how many I’ll eat. They are there to be eaten and if the bowls are empty there are more, way more in grandpa’s office.
Champagne, happy New Year wishes, fake kisses. Firework outside and on television. I don’t like champagne or coffee. All I drink is tea and on rare occasions hot chocolate or hot milk if I am staying with grandmother.
In my bedroom, I watch the firework up in the sky through the small window. I can see the colours while I’m in bed. Tomorrow everything will be back to normal. My normal which isn’t something to be happy with. The Christmas spirit is already dead and buried. I don’t have anything else to achieve other than staying alive till I find a way to get out of here.
Good for a song but not something I would ask for. It started snowing yesterday. Small flakes, big flakes. I watched them falling through the window and had a walk outside twice. If it snows it’s not so cold and the dirty world looks like a better place. Not that it is and it won’t take for long but for a moment it is. It’s an illusion ugliness, dirt, mud and even garbage no longer exist. Snow covers the bad up dead bodies, bad smells included. An old abandoned fallen apart house looks suddenly romantic. Would, without all those songs about snow, the mindset about snow be different? The mind is easily filled with statements, ideas that aren’t ours. We didn’t figure it out ourselves. It’s easier to believe what someone else wrote instead of getting active and putting their mind at work. It chats faster if knowledge from Wikipedia and mainstream media spits out on social media, the internet and to those we meet.
“I read it on the internet/social media so it’s true” is a sarcastic phrase used. Some teachers warn pupils not to believe everything and so do I.
I tell my children not to believe people on their word, the first message that pops up if they search the internet for an answer. I know if our family searches for an answer to the same question each one of us sees something different. Indeed in this family we nearly daily search for answers to what keeps our minds busy. It’s good for a talk and deeper discussions and to know what’s on each other’s mind. As a parent I want my children to be creative, think and not believe everything that’s said. This was the norm in the society I was raised in. To me it’s part of growing up, adultery to think, invest, build an opinion of your own, act and take responsibility for your deeds. There’s no need to be one of the sheep, to follow the mass and repeat what ‘they’ want us to say. If we all did we would still live in a cave.
The truth behind a story will not be found if you stay in your bubble, close your eyes, aren’t open to others their opinion and are not willing to search for it. It’s easy to say “I didn’t know” but today everyone can know, everyone willing knows. The truth can be found. Most of us have internet and with that access to the entire world. If you read the news read comments too. I learn from different opinions. Commenters are frequently showing the other side of the story, the real news. It’s good to doubt. It’s what science is built on: doubt. That admired hero can turn out to be no hero at all. A celebrity isn’t necessarily a good person and good deeds done by the wealthy are done for another reason than mentioned. Rich and famous are the most selfish people there are. They follow the 7-sins-rule to get that far and stay at the top.
Mainstream media doesn’t care about the info they feed the world with as long as they get paid. Their task is to realize one mentality, one idea, to set up people against each other, to divide by chaos, to help organize a one-world government. The old Greek, Romans, Osman, the Sun-King (Louis XIV) and Napoleon had the same in mind like the Roman Catholic church and after them many others who love power and to be God themselves. The only thing you need to realize is that all you need is money. There’s no room for empathy. Money is needed to buy people to spread your news, to buy what is needed to control people and governments (food/seeds, banks, multinationals, electricity and medication make a good start), to show your ‘good heart’ in times of need and money keeps your hands clean. Courage is needed to make your hands dirty.
Digging for the truth isn’t an easy task and not everyone has the courage to do so. I start to believe that after I heard someone say “This fight is not meant for me” it’s true. If someone who rather stays in his bubble adds something good to the world is hard to tell. I assume they add nothing bad either and perhaps it’s a way to keep them sane. Who knows they can help others to relative and put minds at ease in a world of chaos.
Those I know are all different. Different characters, ideas, some have hopes, dreams and ideas about what their future looks like. To realize that the future will never be if… can be hard to deal with. What comes after the if depends on the person. I know it doesn’t have to do with age. People of all ages, children and the elderly see their hopes, dreams, security taken away. A part of them fights, another part gives up while the biggest part follows and tries not to break their brains too much.
My children are not different although, in a way they are. Why? Because they have me as a parent. It does make a difference for a child who the parents are, what they stand for (norms, values) and how they treat/educate their child. Each one of my children is an individual, a personality, has a strong will and is creative. I always stimulated that. I raised them from a young age to be independent, responsible, how to do, ask for or where to get what. Things schools don’t teach. Life skills, surviving hard times, how to fight for your life, set priorities, pay your bills, knowing what’s right for you is not taught. Creativity, a different opinion, to stand for who you are is killed. As a child, you are drilled and have to cover up who you are, what you think, how you feel, everything that’s personal because what you say or do will be used against you.
“You don’t have a child to throw away,” parents said about their son who’s the murderer of their daughter. They stick to their child, support it. A child that intended to kill them too.
A fact about snow is it won’t stay clean and white and it will not cover what’s ugly forever. If snow melts the confrontation is back. With some luck, you had the necessary break and a relaxing time like I had yesterday. It’s true what they say about a day without electricity. The world is more peaceful and so it is without social media, newspapers, radio and TV even more with a day without the internet, being offline. Without the continued stream of information, opinions, ideas on how to survive, the influence of so many people it’s easier to feel happy and invest time in yourself. It’s important to know yourself. If necessary we all can climb mountains but is there always a need to? Should we fight someone else’s war or ours only? When is a war personal? Is it if you sit in the cold like the people in Kazakhstan? What happened there can happen everywhere. Everywhere where people are still fighting for their rights and do not let emotions like anxiety make hide them inside and die.
On January 6th I wasn’t the only one in this world without electricity. I survived, hardly noticed it because I am prepared. Electricity issues I have had for at least 20 years. Annoying, especially in a world where they force you to use the internet for nearly everything important but the good thing about it is I’m prepared. I learned from it. I learned to do what’s necessary right away. A delay always turns out bad. I learned that from living in the country. A life in the mud, sliding through sheep shit, fighting with insects, a lack of water and the endless cold in a place that is never really warm. To a certain amount you even get used to it just like the expensive costs for living, costs without food, clothes, school expenses, medication, dentistry and so on included.
At the start of 2022, I said to my children we didn’t do bad at all. We have a home, a car, food. The children can visit school and the shops aren’t always empty. Except for a headache or being tired not one of us was ill. We are healthy, more healthy than before, we are still close and laugh together. We didn’t lose any friends or family because of a different lifestyle, poverty, a different opinion or ideas. We all can express ourselves freely. Isn’t that what life should be about?
As a parent, we should support our children. If under all circumstances I don’t know. It’s up to each person to decide what a life is worth. A parent’s, a child’s, a friend’s or your own. We do not share the same energy, feel the drive to act or respond. Taking responsibility isn’t easy for many. Each decision comes with a price. Good or bad, wrong or right, accept or refuse, agree or deny the result of each choice is with what we live for the rest of our lives.
I want my children to see the world. The real world which includes its ugliness and dirt too. There’s no need for them to experience everything themselves but I don’t want them to grow up blind, innocent, without any skills, the knowledge they can survive on their own.
During my childhood, it was common to have a filled pantry. Ours looked like a small grocery store. Three items of each product we used were stored. Since I was raised with the idea you never know there might be a new hunger-Winter I did the same. Later I gave up on it to start with it again a few years ago. I made it easier to survive the Winters. Winters with rain or snow which made it hard to buy groceries. Once we were forced to stay home for nearly six weeks. If there’s no shop nearby it’s more relaxed to have some extra food stored in case of need. It saves me a lot of travelling and time too. Waiting in line I rather do with a filled shopping cart than daily for one or two items. Just like me, my children are raised by making a shopping list. Each day we write down what is used. Once I go for the groceries I check which amount I can spend and what is most urgently needed. I make a new list and write the price I’m willing to spend behind each article something my parents never did they just bought what they needed no matter what it cost. I hope the way I do it will help my children in the future. A good life under hard circumstances can be lived if you list your priorities and know where the money flows into. With us, these are the costs for living not food and for sure not going out/fun.
Times change and so do the expenses and our needs. Another good reason to invest money in those things you always need unless you don’t eat and don’t care about hygiene and health. In the next weeks, I will add a bit extra to my pantry. Things I wouldn’t easily buy because I hardly use them but it doesn’t mean I might need them in the future or someone else can.
If it comes to bubbles. A life in the country without close neighbours, TV, radio is living in kind of a bubble too. I like the peace of mind it brings me. I don’t need mainstream media to stay updated on the latest news. I don’t like to be confronted with the ugliness and dirt of other people either. I’m aware of the world outside my bubble. I’m not blind, deaf or keep my mouth shut. To me, it feels nothing will change if I take the easy way, what’s easiest to me. To some, it helps to keep the peace at home, within the family, among friends, at work. I don’t have to deal with these situations which is a plus. I can read, search for answers, reasons if I feel to it and share information if I think it can benefit someone someday. It doesn’t mean all info sent is read carefully I’m aware of that. At times it’s too much and at times it’s better not to share because it tires out. Not only me but my children and friends too especially if it tends to be bad news only. If all light, fun and peace are taken away it’s hard not to lose one’s mind. What is eaten (read/heard) needs time to be digested.
I know I’m not the greatest mom in the world. As a parent, I could have done better. It takes time to grow into parenthood and it’s hard if you have two jobs, feel tired 24/7, are selfish and feel worried about the future of your children at the same time. Children want to play, have friends, dream, to be left alone instead of being pushed into directions. No child likes to listen to endless stories about the past or the ugly future. No child wants to be brainwashed but it happens. It happens for generations, it happened to us, to me. It needs courage and energy to fight (against all odds) and we all know not everyone is right for that job. Most of us will always need and follow a leader because our mind tells us it’s the right thing to do. We only kick at our parents, fight them and say: I hate you.
Saint Nicholas didn’t visit us but there was a bag full of presents. I had hot chocolate and as the front doorbell rang and dad opened the door pepernoten and candies were thrown inside. I think that was the best part of the day and night. I watched how Piet knocked at the door of someone living across the street. I don’t know who sent Piet but it was a nice gesture. I collected all the candies from the floor. My mother does not even say that it’s dirty. I have a piglet made of marzipan, a new book and boots. I don’t like the boots because they look cold and are not for children. I know my feet will hurt but I didn’t say anything except ‘Thank you Saint Nicholas’ which everyone does after opening a present.
Sunday December 5, 2021
Today was like usual. We start the day with a prayer. Next, the teacher tells a story from the bible. After that, the teacher asked how we celebrated yesterday. I just listened. I feel tired if I arrive at school. I can’t just hop out of bed, get dressed, grab a slice of bread and leave for school. I have to wake up at 5:30 am and work hard, be scolded at, beaten up and kicked for nearly three hours till school starts. So I sat at my desk and tried to look interested and not to show how I feel. I wish I was invisible.
Monday December 6, 2021
Ellen asked me if I can play with her tomorrow. I’m not sure if I can not even if I asked my mother first. She can say yes but at the moments I leave to change her mind or she says she never agreed. My mother always changes her mind and if she blames me. She says I lie but the one who does is she. I told Ellen I would like to but I have to ask my mother first and she isn’t always at home. I think it’s partly true and partly lied. She isn’t always home and if she can be in bed or at work or it’s too dangerous to ask her because everything I say or do triggers her to hit and punish me.
Tuesday December 7, 2021
She made a scene slammed the door and left. She said if she would have an accident with the car it’s my fault. I drive her crazy. I don’t know what to say. I think she is crazy. I don’t know when it started but she has always been like that. Crazy. Grandpa said the geese said he is crazy. My grandmother said her mother was in a madhouse. Perhaps she was crazy or no one liked to take care of her. My grandmother is angry with her mother, my mother with my grandmother and me. I just want her to be out of my life. My mother will never like me I only make her angry and unhappy.
I stayed home. I don’t know when she’ll be back but if someone just scolded you, hit and accused you of things you never did or thought it’s no fun to play at a friend’s home. I’m not allowed to use the phone. I couldn’t tell Ellen I cant come over but I think she already knows.
Wednesday December 8, 2021
After school, I had gymnastics again. Nothing to write about. I’m going to read my book in my room. My mother is at work in the room next to mine. I hear the voices and people walk up and down the stairs.
Thursday December 9, 2021
Laundry day, clean bedsheets, polishing shoes, setting tables, cleaning up and school. My mother was home for lunch which is the only cooked meal. Today it’s leftover day. The only great meal of the week. I had the Endive stew with bacon. Baked with butter in a pan is the best.
Friday December 10, 2021
I told dad I don’t want to go hiking. I don’t like it. The bus drive makes me sick, my feet hurt. He said he would talk about it with my mother. The skirt is cold and too small and my coat isn’t warm. Why can boys wear warm trousers and girls have to catch a cold? I left after I did my tasks so my parents have a day without me. The only good thing was the pea soup with smoked sausage. Not much but better than the canned soup of Unox we eat on Saturdays.
Saturday December 11, 2021
Sunday school time. It’s better than the church. After the story, we sang songs. I’m making a cover for the candle.
Too much food, my belly hurts again. I don’ like those puddings my mother cooks. Those tiny coloured pieces make me gag. I can’t help it. Shouldn’t a dessert be a treat? Why am I forced to eat it?
Sunday December 12, 2021
School started with Christmas decorations. There’s a huge tree in the hallway and the auditorium. Each class has a tree too. Before the school closes they give the trees away to families who don’t have one. So fast Sint Nicholas is forgotten.
Monday December 13, 2021
We do not have a tree yet. There is a Christmas wreath on the front door and an Advent wreath on the table in the living room. I think it’s for the visitors. In the daytime, we don’t use the living. It’s cleaned or the door is closed. As I came home my mother was hanging the star of Bethlehem in front of the window. It’s made of paper and there’s a light in it. Most people who live here have a star.
Tuesday December 14, 2021
On Wednesdays, I have school till 12:15. My mother had a better mood for a change. It doesn’t mean her mood can’t change any minute. She tried to have a conversation with the housekeeper and kept reading from the bible short. I was grateful for that. She can’t read, talk or sing in a normal way. Her voice hurts my ears which makes it hard to focus. She said she would go buying a tree and allowed me to watch the telly. I hope she won’t be back too early and in a bad mood. I feel nervous if she’s home. I never know how she will act.
Wednesday December 15, 2021
The tree is huge and outside in the garden. It stays outside till Saturday. On Saturday she will take it inside and the decorating starts. I don’t look forward to helping her. Finger crossed nothing will go wrong. Of course, there will because Christmas trees lose their needles.
Gymnastic again.
Thursday December 16, 2021
Friday again. I’m tired of everything. I was sent to bed after the meal at 5:30 pm. It’s fine with me. My parents always fight.
It was dark as she woke up. Was it night or early in the morning? She couldn’t tell. The clock was ticking. In a way it was comforting but at times it made her furious too. Not that she showed the anger inside. She knew she had to wait. Wait till they had time for her, told her it was time to get out of bed and start the day. Why was it up to them? She knew the time had changed but that didn’t matter. She was no baby still she had to go to bed early and came out late. Not because she needed much sleep, her rest but because they, those who took care of her had a life too. They needed their privacy, relaxing time or however they called it. She wasn’t a priority to them or anyone just a job that had to be done. Day after day all she did was wait till it was her turn. How many times in her life had people told her her time would come? Lies, it all been lies. She turned onto her left side and pushed the pillows aside. All those stupid cushions. How could anyone sleep on them? They hurt her neck, back and head. Why wasn’t she allowed to sleep without? It was her bed, her night rest and her body. The clock was ticking and the thoughts kept running. Today it was Christmas. The reason to celebrate the bringer of light, love and laughter but instead the made up fat Coca man who brought gifts was applauded. Not the person who bought all those gifts, the one who should have all the credit but some fat old imposter who steals milk and cookies while he travels by light. Or did he use a time machine? Why? Why did people fall for that and so many other lies? Ten lies a person tells in an hour, each hour, and no lie detector detects them. Can you imagine that? A time machine would make a great gift. Which time and place could she pick to get that better life?
The sound of a soft click. She knew what it was and meant. Not her turn yet, more waiting. Christmas wasn’t a reason to get out of bed early. Not to them. She had to wait till it was her turn. How come it always took so long? They had time to shower, get dressed. They had their tea or coffee and breakfast and all the time to play with their phones, bracelets and that chip implanted in their hand. She had seen the bumps and wondered why they felt so excited about it. They walked around like a chipped animal although, all these pets were still dumped on the street. No way a chip could be read if the dog didn’t like you, not want you near. She had watched how easily the dog catcher had shot many best friends. Human’s best friend he had called mad dogs. Those dogs hadn’t been mad. The poor animals were afraid, afraid, molested and hungry.
She turned on her back pulled the blanket over her head to protect herself against the cold and the sound of the clock. Tick tock, tick-tock. Why didn’t she leave? They say Christmas is the best time of the year. It didn’t feel like it and wouldn’t happen if she stayed in bed and obeyed. She suddenly remembered the old tale Cinderella. That girl had left and because of that act, her life became better. No God or Santa was needed. She could do it. She could get dressed and walk out just like that 100-year-old man in the film who climbed out of the window. She smiled. For the first time in a very long time, she did. She moved her toes and fingers underneath the sheets. Her legs felt restless it was time to make a move. Today was the day. No one would pay attention to her, they hardly knew she existed. She turned on her left side again and thought about what to wear. It was important to stay warm. Did she need money or did everyone use a chip? “There’s food in the kitchen, eat before you leave and take a filled bag on your way out,” a voice inside said.
She heard a sound in the hallway and waited. They wouldn’t open her door in the next hours. She had to get out of bed to act. The cold made her shiver as she sat on the bed’s edge wrapped in her blanket. Outside of her window was a cold, white world slowly awakening. Was it possible to climb out of the window? She put on her socks and trousers and found her way to the toilet where she sat in the dark. It didn’t bother her there was no light. Clothes, she needed more clothes. Layers of clothes to stay warm just like Heidi. She opened the closet pulled out what she thought might fit and put it on. Without any doubt, her mom would say she looked badly dressed like a homeless but she didn’t care. Important was to wear what kept her warm and together it looked colourful. Her tiny hand searched the shelf at the back of the closet and felt something soft. What was that? She pulled it out and remembered the gift of long ago. The scarlet knitted hat and scarf she’d never worn because they were useless inside the four walls she was locked in. Did she still have a jacket?
She carefully made her bed. Pillows pushed underneath the blanket. For sure that would keep them busy if they entered her room at all. “No chip, no bracelet, no phone. It will be hard to track and trace me. They might shoot me like a crazy dog,” she whispered on the way to the door.
Her door was open, the hallway empty and the Christmas tree looked like a dark monster instead of the bringer of hope and light. She had a quick stop in the kitchen. So much food everywhere. She filled her pockets and bag with the goodies and pushed two bottles with lids on the top. In the corner, she stood drinking her cup of tea. Was that chocolate? She waited for the right moment. It was silent inside as she left by the backdoor. The sun came out and felt warm on her friendly face as she walked through the lane. She had no idea where to go but today would be a perfect day.
source: pixabay.com
The shops were decorated, a large tree adorned the square. It smelled nice and she wasn’t in a hurry which was good. It was the first time since long no clock was ticking and time didn’t matter. While she sat underneath the tree she watched people passing by. Those who noticed her greeted friendly some even wished her merry days but no one asked her why she sat there all alone. How come not a single person asked if she shouldn’t be at home? She ate from the food she took, sipped her tea and enjoyed life. At nightfall, she opened the second bottle and was surprised by the smell. Chocolate milk, not too hot but still warm. She had time to drink it all. She was alone, no one missed her and she knew she wouldn’t go back to the elderly home. Finally, Christmas became the best time of the year. She smiled as she laid her head on the empty bag. She had never been afraid to die only been afraid her life would never start. She stared at the snowflakes who fell off the sky each one of them looked like a twinkling little star. Within an hour the snow covered it all and it would be before the new year, might be even January 6th or later, the Municipality Cleaning Service would find her smiling underneath the tree.
My face hurts and I feel something is wrong. If I feel what I feel now I know it will be swollen soon. I’m in bed and that’s the only good thing. On the hiking trip, I still felt fine. It started at home after I had soup and bread, bread with honey. The smell of that dry honey already makes me vomit. At 7 pm it’s bedtime for me so I was happy. I can’t help scratching and feeling itchy and my mother hates me if I do. The sheets feel cold, my feet are very cold. Dad says I suffer from Winter’s toes and that’s why they look blue and hurt. I think my toes suffer from more. The shoes, hiking and hammertoes. My feet are not made for walking. The cold sheets feel good against my burning face though. I have a pot of cream left. I can’t use it. It smells terrible and only makes it worse. Since I no longer visit a doctor I think I better throw it away. If I find a way I will. I won’t ever use it again. All those doctors never helped or cured me they just did something. The same is something they do with others. People who are sick for different reasons. I wonder why anyone wants to be a doctor. I need to sleep now. My eyes hurt too and I can’t write if I don’t see what I’m doing. I can’t fall asleep before I hid this diary. I hear my mother scream downstairs. Are my parents fighting again? It makes me nervous if I hear her voice. It makes it harder to fight the pain. Tomorrow I’ll be the ugly monster again.
Saturday November 27, 2021
I don’t look too good. I think I look how I feel. Dad said I better stay home. No Sunday school for me. My mother left after I served her breakfast in her room. No matter how sick I am I have to work. I try not to scratch, not to cry for pain, not to rub. If I blink my eyes, try to drink, eat or speak the pain is worse. I wish I was never born. I hate my life, my hate my body. It always hurts.
Sunday November 28, 2021
My mother sent me to school. She doesn’t care about how I feel. She said I skip school too much. The only times I don’t go to school is if she did beat me up. If she beat me up and what she did cannot be hidden by my clothes. It was hard to concentrate at school. That stupid girl Petra is a bully. She always takes me. The teacher says that name of her means rock. Rock? A rock you can build on. I think he means she throws rocks at other people. I think it means a traitor, a mean person. That is what Peter in the bible was to. A traitor, a liar, a person who would throw rocks at Jesus and say: I don’t know you.
Monday November 29, 2021
Only a few more nights and the Saint will visit us at school. Some children are afraid of him. I’m not. I think he is kind because he gives presents and never is angry. My mother is a more scary person. I will not tell that to those children. They won’t believe me anyway. Those children who do never visited me again. They don’t play with me at school.
Tuesday November 30, 2021
The pain is still there. I can feel my skin but the pain in my body too. It’s hard to explain what I feel. I think what makes me sick is inside of me. I wish I could pee it out. I don’t want to be in pain forever. I don’t want to live in this body forever. It doesn’t feel as if it is mine. I climbed on the stool in the bathroom so I could look into the mirror. What I saw in the mirror that can’t be me! I don’t recognize that face. It can’t be me. I blinked, closed my eyes for longer but as I opened my eyes that strange face still looked at me. I felt shocked and fell off the stool. I placed it back next to the sink. Back in my room, I sat on my bed. What had happened to my face, what happened to me? Who’s that stranger looking at me in the mirror? I’ll never watch in the mirror again. From now on I keep my eyes closed.
Wednesday December 1, 2021
All I know is I must have fallen asleep. My diary is crinkled, some pages torn but nothing is missing. It’s not like last time. That time she threw away my diary and I started again. This time with two different ones. One she will search for and read, the other I write and hide better, somewhere else or carry with me if possible. I don’t know what happened. Did I do this? It’s hard to believe. I took the pages and puzzled them together. All pages are there. At least I believe they are. I take the risk and will take my diary with me to school. I know it’s not safe. I know that girl Petra will try to take it away from me if I let her. I will fight back if needed. No one helps me anyway. The teacher never does. They don’t care who’s bullied or discriminated against. Just when I’m in the class with the teacher I feel safe. Not because the teacher sees everything or helps kids like me but because all children like him. They fight for his attention. I think the girls are in love with him. He’s the only not old teacher and his hair is long plus he plays musical instruments. All sorts of. I don’t think the principal likes him. The principal is a mean old man. The kind of man you only read about in books. He looks like one of those men of the Inquisition the teacher told us about during history class. Just his belly is way more swollen. His pair of trousers is underneath that terrible belly. I don’t like it if the man comes close and that belly touches me. I don’t want that man to touch me at all. He hits me if he’s in a bad mood. I think teachers are allowed to but I’m not sure. The teacher, that old teacher Mrs Mulder always hit us with a pointer stick. It’s a flexible one so that hurts and it won’t break easily. My parents hit me too. My mother uses whatever she can find. In most cases, it’s the whip, the mat beater made of pulp cane, or the dogs’ leashes which are chains or leather. It all hurts but if she tells me to get the leash I take the heavy chain. The heavy chain has a large heavy carabiner. If she hits me with it the carabiner will hit her back. She never hits me with her bare hands either does my father. He uses his leather slippers. Those slippers Saint Nicholas gives him. If the Saint doesn’t my mother does then it will be my dad’s birthday present. My parents don’t care if they hit me. They don’t care if I have bruises all over and have to stay home. My mother uses the iron stool to hit me on the head, she uses her high heels and throws whatever is within her reach to my head. The pot with peanut butter empties the pan with soup over my head. She scolds, yells at me, ties me up in bed and locks me into the room without something to eat or drink. She hopes I will die since I’m always sick and the source of all misery in her life. Everything is my fault. Me being born ruined her life. While she tells me this all, I hear my bones crack and my ears make a strange sound I wonder how come it makes her mad if the principal hits me. The anger that old man has inside, his hate against me and his violence… It’s bad but not as bad as what she does to me. Because of her I hardly dare to sleep. She will kill me.
Thursday December 2, 2021
Yesterday I went to the gym but I no longer want to do it. There are too many places I don’t want to be because I feel unsafe.
Piet was on the school’s roof during the break. The children of the Catholic school next to ours came to our part of the schoolyard too. They push us away and grab the candies away Piet throws at us. It’s hard to find something. I’m not like the other children. I won’t push or fight for candies. I pick it up if it falls in front of my feet or let it be. Some children have their pockets filled with pepernoten, all sorts of candies. They brag and don’t share with the others but the teacher does. One by one we have to step forward and he gives us a handful. Do you know what I hate? Because of my name, I’m always the last one. It’s the same with the Saint. No one is interested if you are the last one in a row. Adults are tired, children want to go home and play with their toys. The Saint and Piet are in a hurry because our school isn’t the only one they visit. For a moment I felt afraid the Saint would call me. I don’t like to sit on his lap and sing a song. I like his beard but I think beards are dirty. Food, cookie crumbs and spit are in it. How does he wash that beard? If you only comb your hair it gets dirty too. So no sitting on a lap for me. I’m happy about that since my bottom and back already hurt enough.
The school gave us a hot chocolate and after that, we were sent home. Usually, we have school in the afternoon but not if the Saint visits the school. I have a chocolate letter and a book so I’m good. On my way home I ate the candies. I’m not in a hurry. It’s only a five-minute walk and home with my mother is the last place where I want to be.
From the kitchen, I heard her singing. Singing while she vacuumed the living room. I wasn’t sure where to go to so I waited in the kitchen where the housekeeper cooked our meal. She didn’t greet me and as it was ready she told me to tell my mother. At least she sounded as if she was in a good mood. She talked a lot while we ate the terrible meal. My mother cooks way better even I can. Why doesn’t she cook instead of vacuuming all the carpets for hours? I didn’t say a word because talking is not allowed during the meals. Before and after the meal we prayed and I did as if I listened to my mother who read from the Bible. I have no idea what she talked about. If you ask me she and the housekeeper do not either. It’s just a habit. A habit no one cares about or has any benefits of. Good Christians don’t live in this house either good people. God knows and Saint and Piet too.
Friday December 3, 2021
Uncle Ger visited us. We just finished cleaning the house. I’m not sure if my mother likes him. His dad’s friend. A friend dad meets if he leaves to go somewhere. It’s in the city I think. The same city I went to the hospital and where I saw dad once. He was wearing a white coat but I can’t remember uncle Ger was there too. I like this uncle. He greets me and lifts me into the sky. He’s taller than my dad and treated me to some candies. My mother didn’t say anything about it but sent me to my room. I don’t care. I saw uncle and he was kind to me. I don’t need to hear what the grown ups talk about. It’s always boring.
Tonight I can set my shoe again and tomorrow we’ll celebrate the Saint’s birthday. I will read my book now.
Today it is… It is October 20! I woke up. My head hurts. My ear hurts. My eyes are swollen. My throat hurts. I am not tied to the bed. It’s grey outside. I feel the cold. Did it freeze? I tried to sit on my knees on the bed. I feel dizzy. I don’t feel so good. I see mist outside and the streetlight is on. It’s grey. I woke up felt the pain. I hurt my mother scream at me again. I did all she wanted I did not refuse. I tried to be polite and attentive. She waited for me behind the door. She hit me by surprise. I didn’t do anything wrong. She yelled, cursed, scolded me and kept beating me with the whip. She hit me with everything she could find. I saw them looking, the neighbours, other kids. She yelled I am a thief and stole all her money. She held her wallet in her hand swung it in front of me. “You stole my money. You’ve always been a thief! I know you are.” I said I didn’t take her money. I didn’t come into her room as she was asleep. She should know I don’t. I hate to be in her room. It stinks and it’s dangerous. I didn’t take the money. I did not! She kept yelling was furious again because of me. She always says it’s because of me. I saw how people watched me. Now everyone thinks I am a thief. I asked her to give me the wallet. I needed to see if it was true. Was the money gone? She said there was no need for me to have a look. She yelled she had checked it at least ten times. She said the housekeeper already did so. The money was gone and I stole it. It went on and on and on. The housekeeper stood behind her. She didn’t say a word, didn’t help me. She didn’t tell my mother to stop. She didn’t close the door. Did she enjoy my mother molesting me? Next, I had the wallet. I slowly opened it. There it was. The lost money. It wasn’t stolen. No one took it. “Here it is,” I said and showed her the money. She grabbed the wallet out of my hands turned around and left. She left me with empty hands, a broken body and didn’t care. She didn’t say sorry. She didn’t say: I’m glad it isn’t lost. She didn’t care about me, my feelings, what people think about me. What will people think? They think she is right. Adults are always right. Children always lie. I lie, I’m a thief and have that crinkle. A crinkle in my head, that’s what she says about me. Crinkles are sick minds. She wants me to die or wants me to be locked in a nuthouse. Can be I am crazy but I never scream, yell, scold. I do not see heaps of dirt and sand. I do not count how many times I wipe the same spot with the dustcloth. I do not walk the hallway up and down for hours and say: I am nuts, nuts, nuts, you drive me crazy, crazy, crazy.
I remember it all. I remember it very well. It all came back the minute I woke up. I don’t understand why she hates me. I don’t understand what I did wrong. I did not ask to be born. I did not ask to live in a world with people who hate me. I can’t forget. The memory is back. Memories will never disappear. Not memories of a bad life. My life. It won’t get any better. I will not ever feel better. They say writing helps but I don’t think so. Not if writing is dangerous. Not if she reads it.
I waited in bed longer. The alarm clock stood still. You have to rewind it each day to know the time. There’s a clock downstairs in the living. I can look around the corner and see what time it is. Perhaps when the clock strikes I know what time it is. I took my alarm clock with me and opened the door of my bedroom. I have to be silent. I don’t know the day or time. The stairs are long, the house is cold. I see the newspaper on the floor. This means it isn’t Sunday. Quickly I turn it around. I read the day. I read the date. I keep repeating it. Wednesday, October 20, 2021, Wednesday, October 20, 2021… Do I sound like my mother? I’m scared and I need to pee. I hurry to the toilet downstairs. It’s at the end of the hallway before the kitchen. I hesitate. It can’t be late. There’s not a single sound. I wait and wait, too afraid to flush the toilet. Scared to leave the privy. If I don’t flush my mother will be mad with me. I flush and ran out to the kitchen. The dogs are inside. It’s quiet. I feel thirsty. The table is set for breakfast. It looks as if nothing happened. The clock in the pocket of my bathrobe cannot tell the time. Did time stand still while I was away? I hesitate. I’m thirsty. I drink water from the tap and eat some cheese. She will notice it but I can’t help. I need to eat. I wait if I hear something. What time is it? It’s Wednesday, October 20, 2021. The living room door squeaks. I will not walk over the carpet. I won’t leave footprints. The clock is ticking. If it’s true it’s nearly 3 o’clock. Three in the morn. I hurry back upstairs, back to bed. Three more hours and the day starts. I set the clock while I’m shivering in bed. Why is it so cold?
Wednesday October 20, 2021
Yesterday at 10 my mother told me to get out of bed. I had to take a bath and go downstairs. The kitchen was warm and I had my breakfast. She didn’t say a word about the cheese. At noon we had lunch and I could watch the telly. She didn’t speak to me. After supper she said I go back to school tomorrow. So today was my first day at school. I gave her a letter to the teacher. No one asked where I was. I don’t think I missed anything. Not at school not at the gym.
Thursday October 21, 2021
It’s Friday. At school, we first read in groups. It’s with the entire school. After school, it was practising for the orchestra and choir. I can not play an instrument. I wish I could but I can’t. We practice for Christmas, not for Saint Nicholas. These songs we do with our class. Christmas is a celebration with the parents. Nine weeks till Christmas. Six weeks till Saint Nicholas. Nine times or eight times to practice. Oh no, fewer because there will be Autumn vacation. The school will be closed. So I was sick for how long? My mother always sends me back to school before school closes.
Friday October 22, 2021
Dad is home. Everything is back to normal. Out of bed at 6, making the beds, polishing shoes, setting the table and cleaning the house. Dad sings and my mother complains. I wish someone will call and she leaves. No hiking club today. She said next week. The hiking club already has a vacation. I don’t like vacations if it means I have to stay home. The housekeeper will stay home too. I try to stay close to dad and hope she forgets me.
Tomato soup and bread for dinner. On Saturdays, we only eat twice. Bread for breakfast and soup with bread for dinner and a pastry or cake at coffee time. My mother orders a lot of pastries, cookies, cakes and chocolate at the confectioner. Most of them she eats. After eating, she sticks her finger in her throat and vomits on the toilet. I don’t like the sound of it.
Saturday October 23, 2021
Sunday day of rest? No, out of bed early, serving my mother and dad breakfast on bed. I got permission to switch the central heating on. I cleaned and went to Sunday school. It’s cold outside and I don’t like to wear skirts. The skirts are short and cold. I wish I could wear long ones like when grandmother was a child. I feel itchy again. I try not to scratch but I can’t stop. My skin hurts. My mouth, eyes and face too. I don’t like to sit with my parents in the living. Dad reads the paper and my mother is always busy. Busy cleaning, at the telephone, her looks, complaining or with her schedules. Schedules about work. House chorus and so. She writes in the notebook for the housekeeper again the one she keeps it in the kitchen drawer.
If my parents would go on a holiday I could stay with granny… or grandmother. I haven’t seen them for longer. Auntie will get married so I can never stay with her again. I have another aunt. Dad’s sister. I never stayed with her. My mother hates her.
The luxury of a phone, having a phone of my own and having it always at hand. It was the best day of my life as it was given away at the supermarket. All I had to do was buying a box washing detergent, the powder. As I read the advertisement I hoped the powder wouldn’t damage the phone. I took the risk. Free is always good. The phone was well wrapped, even vacuum sealed. The amount of detergent was another story. I could hardly found any. What I bought was good for six laundries. Six instead of thirty. That phone didn’t turn out to be that free at all. After I charged the battery -took ages- I struggled even longer to start it and update all the apps it came along with. No idea what they were meant for but without I couldn’t receive or make a call.
A week later my smart new item finally operated. I finished the registering of the phone, all apps, the simcard, gave my e-mail, bankaccount, social security number and ID to all who who asked for it. Those apps and sites who refused to operate without.
I’m on my way I texted to my mom. I buy us dinner on the way.
A short beep accompanied by a vibration made me stop to read:
No, you are not! You are a danger to us all. You are unvaxxed, is what the text said. I scrolled and read: You have ten minutes to go back inside your home or we inform the patrol. Watch your steps or you end up dead! Google’s freedom4all.
They say the government divides us. It’s true it started long ago. They do not want us to celebrate. We have to work, pay taxes and shut up. Those few who demonstrate against the last national celebration – St Nicholas- left are paid by the government, the department of Culture with money of tax payers! The people who would never agree with that. No one asked them.
More and more people no longer watch National tv or all those media sponsored by the gates foundation. Even if videos and messages are released there’s a way to see and listen, read a different opinion and know the truth.
Who needs the National TV broadcasting the Saint’s arrival if city’s do it themselves? Places who do not discriminate and make a difference between vaccinated and unvaccinated. As if that makes any difference if you stand outside. “If you do not like to be vaccinated you can die,” a guy on the Dutch National TV said. “Go live in Volendam,” he said. Volendam or Urk these places are looking more and more attractive to me. Places where they care for the people and stand for what they believe. Places where no one has Covid-19 or goes to hospital with heart failures.
The Dutch government is a joke. Noticed 190 governments use exactly the same guideline? 190 governments all around the globe, different people, different situations spread exactly the same news.
More and more people say: Let’s continue with our life. Do what is important to us. We celebrate at home. Home town, in or outside. Volendam closed the day -the arrival of Saint Nicholas on Saturday November 15, 2021- with fireworks! Fireworks the government forbids (all in the name of Covid-19).
If you ask me there’s hope and dark days and Winters make us stronger and fight what is really important to us. These days tell us who are our friends for real.
He held her while during their walk outside to the shops. An outsider would think he gave her strength. In reality she was the strong one. The person he could rely one for over 60 years. She had hoped for better times. Freedom. A life without him. He wasn’t the supportive, lovely man others saw but the narcissist who checked out on her 24/7. The man who wouldn’t let go of her. The guy who only became older due to her.
There’s no one in this world that dealt with so much poop as I did. Well, perhaps the water cleaning equipments of the cities do.
Till today I still clean poop, others their poop. Humans, animals and I wonder what’s worse, smells worse. If it comes to poop I do know you have to wash your hands very frequently and some soaps don’t do the job well. Your hands still smell after poop and scrubbing them three times is a common thing to do at least for me. By the way using toilet paper or a diaper does not mean you don’t need to wash your hands.
If it comes to the plandemic it’s good hygiene is introduced again but I wonder how many of you still stick to all those panick advises given. I remember how one year ago people started cleaning their house, doorknobs were finally cleaned. Clothes washed each time they came from outside, the groceries needed to be disinfected and all types of disinfectant been bought. How we hoped it would keep us safe. What did we know at that time? Only what they told us and wanted us to believe. We fell for it. Indeed we did although not one restriction killed that virus and trust me it will never happen.
Poop is natural and so are bacteria and viruses.
Inhaling a bit virus a day keeps the doctor away!
Your immune, your natural immune system needs it. Instead we did rediculous things that didn’t make sense. Not one of our acts helped to fight the aerosols. What is in the air, the air of a badly ventilated place can not be killed if we stop shaking hands and keeping distance or wear a facemask. We locked ourselves inside, started an unhealthy life, eat and drank alcohol too much and no longer cared about boosting our immunesystem. We breathe in the dirty air inside, use our facemask for nearly two years without washing it and don’t care about the news men, overweight people and those being diabetic go first.
The good news about the plandemic and lockdowns is now you know how an inmate feels, you are no longer an individual or number but a QR code and more ‘cool’ high tech will be released on us humans (pills with chips checking your inside).
If you ask me bird poop is the worst. It drops out of the blue at unwanted places and it’s hard to wash off. You need to scrub and scrub and scrub to make whatever the shit sticks to bright again. Politicians are like birdpoop. Most likely not the poop of a black bird but the poop of pigeons, doves. You think this breed is handy, saves you, a prize winner but in reality they deliver each message wrong or too late. Their poop sticks everywhere and the only one who knows what that bird says is the other pigeon bred in the WEF dovecote. Doves do not bring peace. They are there to divide and spread their shit everywhere cities first.
WakeUpKitty 