My secrets

My friend recently shared an article from the Guardian about a nurse, who while working for years in palliative care, recorded her patients' regrets during their last days of living. Apparently, the most common one could be summerized as "I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me."

This made me think. A lot. I'm spending my spring break observing the Holy Week.

I spent the entire year before we moved away for my new job, attending an Orthodox church 45 minutes away from where my husband and I resided at the time. Besides spending there almost every Sunday morning and early afternoon, we would go for Vesper's services on Saturday nights. We got so involved that I started singing in a choir there, granted after spending months working up a nerve to do that. By then my husband has been contributing his musical talents rather regularly. During the Holy Week last year we fasted, attended all the matins for that week, only drank liquids for three days, and even spent the night at church reading at an all-nigh vigil. For someone having lived in a bible belt, this probably wouldn't qualify for too over-the top religious. The catch is, almost nobody I knew outside of church had the slightest clue of anything described above. I carefully crafted what I say about my day with my parents to avoid mentioning that we spent the entire weekend, doing something church-related. With most of my friends, this was never a topic for a conversation.

I remember somebody tagging me on a facebook picture that showed me in our church. It was almost like coming out of a closet. I wondered what my parents would think, if any of my friends would draw surprised looks. Nothing happened, though. No unwanted questions. Life went on.

I don't want to portray myself as somebody that I'm not.

Something is broken. It's like when you sense something wrong, but can't define it. You peel away variables one by one, until you get to the layer that makes all the difference. I wonder if any of this makes sense. 


If I dedicate so much of myself to that place, the church, why is it such a secret that I'm there, with the people I love?

Screw everything

Worthless pursuits of a lifestyle or people who are never attainable.

Perchance, it's not what I really want.

Empty worries of money, or mostly opinions

That belong to others and shouldn't be on my mind.

Ever.

This blog has proven itself quite worthless. Given I used that word twice in the last minute or two, it must be significant to me at the time...or I might want to increase my vocabulary. Either way, this place is getting stale and I keep wanting to be somebody else.

Those in whom I wish to confide some of my inner ponderings come here at most once or twice. I suppose they stop by to be polite after I invite them or in order to satisfy their initial curiosity of what I might have on the blog that's anonymous. Once it's done it's done. Accidental visitors or those who come back with surprising consistency seem to merely scan the content, like a google bot simply taking note of my post being there. Click. Like a two-dimensional picture. And it's out there for another lost soul...or maybe for nobody.

About Me

Female, 23, married. What else do you want to know?

Contrary to the title of the blog, I don't think I'm any more special than you. The name is almost a joke, an attempt in self-persuasion of a sort. Just like billions of people all over the world, I have my own petty problems, which seem giant and uber-important to me at the time.

I was born in the USSR. Ukrainian by citizenship, Tatar and Russian by ethnicity, and American by spirit, I'm quite confused with my national identity.

People fascinate me. I like listening to their stories and trying to figure out how they think. Sometimes my questions are like shooting stars, without any particular order or direction. I'm looking for something, yet I'm not sure what it is. I'm always trying to learn.

I admire people who live selflessly, who persevere through difficulties, and love without fear. Intelligence, confidence, and ability to do what's right regardless of what the rest of the world thinks, is irresistibly hot.

I'm constantly trying to change myself around, because I'm rarely content, but the whole "be OK with who you are" thing is a work in progress in itself.

I love life!

Occasionally I get into depressive moods, leading me down the road of self-depreciation and other pretty messed-up thoughts. That's when I come here. Don't judge.

Tying my life with my husband was the best and most important decision I've ever made. I'm in an open relationship.

I'm a long-distance runner. Take it however you want. I may be slow, but I'll do my thing and will get there.

Expression of love in ANY form or shape is strikingly beautiful. It makes me smile even when no one else is around. I don't care. Thought-provoking short films, random acts of kindness, intimate bonds, and rainy days that seem to bring everyone closer, are rather enjoyable as well.

I believe in God.

Ideally I want to care less about stuff, be stronger in spirit and more open to new experiences. In reality thought I'm just a regular girl: boring, self-conscious, unorganized, impulsive, and all-around hard-to-handle when close, but oh so special to the ones who love me.

Pushing

What sort of love would it be if it came easy and gave immediate fruits and gratitude in return?

Facing another week of struggles with my kids. And no, I don't envision myself as a Mother Teresa type. I'm a wannabe teacher, figuring it all out on the go. The "all" part including whether I want or should be a teacher at all. Yet I persevere.