I’m sitting at my desk and a second ago while I was leaning backwards in my chair the morning sun caressed my face and I closed my eyes for a moment to enjoy the warmth when reality suddenly hit me. I miss my home, my own place where I would lie on my couch on sunny afternoons and fall asleep while the sun was keeping me warm. Where I had my Indonesian and other colonial-style furniture, carpets, lamps and books to surround me and make me feel happy. Where I had my tiny little garden filled with plants and fern, with my tiny little pond and all the frogs who came to visit me and keep me awake at night calling their loved ones. Where I had no modern Ikea flatpack stuff because I believe in authenticity and all my things have soul because that’s what time and origin gave them and that’s the type of stuff that I need around me… And I almost threw it out because I was told to do so: ‘oh just sell the crap or give it to friends, you won’t be needing it anymore and what’s the point in keeping it…’

Here I am living in this fake world that comes straight out of an Ikea brochure, no soul, no happiness and no depth just a superficial shiny surface where I can’t be myself and where I’m forced to be the actress [I’ve become a good one over the years!]. I threw out most of my things or gave them away to friends because I honestly believed that I would be safe and start a new life, so yes why not. I gave up my own identity hoping I would be able to have a shared one instead. I gave away things that I had to save up money for over the years in order to buy them, I gave up on things that had emotional value to me. I gave up my own space, my home and my friends because I believed in something. Something that quickly turned to dust and was blown away by this years early April breeze. I feel lonely because I seem to be stuck in this world that isn’t mine, it’s his and I want out of it so desperately. I gave up so much, just to live a dream that was never there, only to find myself caged with my wings clipped.

Why didn’t I admit to it sooner? Why didn’t I tell my friends what was truly going on underneath that shiny surface? Was I too proud? Too ashamed? Too ignorant? Too stupid? Or just not realising the serious undertone of a problem that was hidden so well it was slowly taking apart the springs and wheels of the complex clockwork that makes me tick… I read articles online about the topic, to learn, accept and understand the situation but most of all accept myself. To deal with this secret, overcome the damage and try to come to terms with it. I need to talk but I can’t because friends want to be heard too and instead of putting myself first I am there for them and listen to them. So I hide because I feel I have to do it on my own because I’m used to doing it on my own, I think about all the questions in my head and I write… page after page after page. To me it’s survivor instinct, something I’ve learned at a very young age, don’t expect people to truly listen because they are too busy being heard. So you end up pretending all is well while it really isn’t all that well…

One of many reasons why I started writing this blog, a place to vent, to rant and rave at times but most of all my space, which I can shape and design the way I like without having to answer to anyone except me. A place to feel comfortable, where I can say what I would like to say and write about the questions in my head and my quest for answers. One day, it would be nice to have that sunbeam caress my skin again like it used to, feel its warmth, feel safe but most of all, be myself and feel at home surrounded by all things ‘me’. And in the meantime I’ll just cry and keep writing…

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We all know what it means to listen, to really listen. It is more than hearing the words, it is truly understanding and accepting the other person’s message and also his/her situation and feelings. Empathy means understanding another person so well that you identify with him/her, you feel like he/she does. The Indians expressed it as: “Walking a mile in another person’s moccasins.” It is listening so intently and identifying so closely that you experience the other person’s situation, thoughts and emotions. Good therapists do this, so do good friends (Berger, 1987).

Empathy is one of the more important skills you will ever acquire. It is amazing how few people do it well.

Purposes

• It shows you care and that you understood the other person. Thus, people will enjoy talking to you and will open up more.

• If you have misunderstood, the talker can immediately correct your impressions. You learn more about people.

• It usually directs the conversation towards important emotional topics.

• It lets the talker know that you (the listener) accept him/her and will welcome more intimate, personal topics. It invites him/her to tell his/her story and vent his/her feelings.

• Since it is safe to talk about “deep” subjects, the talker can express feelings and self-explore, carefully considering all his/her deep-seated emotions, the reasons for those feelings and his/her options. Thus, it is therapeutic.

• It reduces our irritation with others because we understand. To understand is to forgive.

• It may even reduce our prejudice or negative assumptions about others because we realize we now have a means of finding out what another person is really like. Furthermore, we discover everyone is “understandable.”

• It fosters more meaningful, more helpful, closer friendships.

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