I woke up and read this Roger Nimier quote on one of my friend's Facebook pages. It inspired me to write the following in the space of about ten minutes. It could be now, it could be 5 years ago, who knows... But it's all true and I think many can relate to it.

Descente aux enfers… Or is it ?

"Il est fréquent d'aimer les abîmes, il est juste de s'y précipiter, mais il est étrange d'accepter d'y descendre lentement, pas à pas, et d'envelopper cette déchéance d'une douceur qui trompe tout le monde et soi-même."

Roger Nimier

Rough translation (done in 10 seconds):

“It is common for one to love the depths of despair, it is normal to throw oneself into them, but it is strange when one accepts to descend into them slowly, step by step, and to cover this decline so gently that one deceives everyone else and oneself.”

It appears to be a sort of “descente aux enfers”, slowly, without even knowing where the idea came from, where the feeling started and what triggered such a pull downwards towards some kind of hell, but step by step it’s taking you there. It could be a way of controlling oneself, seeing just how far you can go until you hit a rock, maybe not rock bottom, but somewhere near there. Feeling like you are losing your mind, step by step, opens up certain visions to what you could or should be, and how you could and would make it. But, at that moment in time you don’t have the real incentive or power to actually stop it and climb back up again. When you are finally at the bottom, there are two real choices: stay there and probably just walk into an early grave, or look up and see what you are missing.

It could also be a hidden cry for help, you want someone to notice where you are heading, but you can’t actually open your mouth to say it out loud because you can’t find the words to express what you are feeling. Or you feel too guilty to bother anyone with your own problems, which seem so much less serious than other people’s problems. You have a job, enough money to live on, wonderful friends and a place to live. So who will really understand the demons that plague your mind every day, or that feeling of walking through a thick cloud every time you are finally able to make it out of bed? Especially when you are one of the most positive people you know ten months out of twelve? Why would you plague someone else with your minor issues when they have much more important things to deal with in life?

Or, then again, you could just not care anymore. Let everyone see how insane you really are. Letting loose, losing control now and again brings some kind of fulfillment. When you are tired of looking after yourself and being responsible every single day, it often helps to go on a crazy self-indulgent and self-harming rampage. And then you wake up feeling like you lost a couple of days in your life and will never ever be able to live them again. You feel guilty and ill, but also kind of exhilarated and high – you dodged the bullet yet again and are still here to tell the tale. Back to reality and responsibility, back to life as you know it and don’t always want to live it.

All in all, it is a perfect combination of all of the above, and all in all, it is worth it to make it back up to the top, back to the other side. Because despite what we all may think at times in our lives, the sun always rises every morning and the rain does stop to bear blue skies and light, wispy clouds. Nights can be long, but days can be even longer if you decide to live through them instead of hiding until the sun goes down. I am too strong to let life get the better of me, and have too much to accomplish to hide away in the shadows.

I actually wrote this for something else, in the hopes that it may be published there, but once I had sent it realised that I just wanted to post it on here too. So I waited a while and am just going to post here anyway, while I am sitting in my Mum's house in California on vacation, another spot in this world that I consider as slightly paradisaical in itself... Sunshine, palm trees, pure calm and relaxation, food directly picked from the garden and thrown into a salad or onto the barbeque... The theme I was writing for was Paradise, and this is what I was immediately inspired to write.

Paradise Within

I used to live in Paradise. But before I arrived in Paradise I lived in a place I can only consider as Hell, created by the people living on this planet around me and by the pitfalls of my own mind. I don’t live in Paradise anymore, but I live in a world that I have created for myself, part beauty and part darkness, part love and part evil. I call this my real world, and hope that I was able to bring some of my learnings from Paradise back to this world of mine.

Hell was the place I lived in just after 9/11. Watching the planes crash, the buildings plummet to the ground and imagining the horrific death of all of those people shifted my once idealistic approach of the world to one of terror and doom. How could I make any type of difference against a big machine of war that our planet was gearing up towards? Growing up at the tail end of the Cold War had been bad enough, but the fall of the Berlin Wall and the end of nuclear threats gave us all hope that this world could become a better place if we tried. That is, until other forms of terror appeared, from both sides of the spectrum. 9/11, cumulated with the fact that I was writing my MA thesis on Sylvia Plath, led me to believe that Plath had had it all sorted and life under a Bell Jar was the only option for survival.

Hell was being scared to leave the house, panic attacks and acute weight loss, days of not being able to get out of bed, and nights of leaving my phone off the hook to avoid the constant phone calls and messages from my friends, worried why they hadn’t seen me and why I wasn’t out with them. Hell was a constant underlying anxiety of the unknown, and fear of never being able to rid myself of these feelings and feel happy again. Then Hell just became numbness. I came upon a crossroads: either I continued along this road or I chose to make a change, rip myself away from familiarity and throw myself into the unknown, where I would be able to lose myself, and where nobody knew me.

The flight to Paradise was long, and the first few days I was there were ones of complete panic, hidden by my creative ability to appear as calm as possible while my insides were churning. How would I ever be able to communicate with the people when I couldn’t even read their alphabet? Where would I know to stop on the bus in the middle of the desert where everything looks the same and different at the same time? How could I make sure that the food I was eating was really vegetarian? Who could I trust and who should I watch out for? And then I just let go. We humans have many a survival instinct, and I just let mine take over, in essence freeing myself from everything that was holding me back, and opening myself up to a brand new experience that would ultimately change my world.

Paradise was a country built on war, pain, love and passion. A place where the south was mainly desert and the north mainly green, where the sun would beat down on you during the day and the stars would shine brighter than I had ever seen them during the night. Paradise was where I lived among free spirits by the sea, working hard during the day, planting food that would be sold abroad once it was ready, making irrigation pipes for export in the factory, cooking food for over 500 people, serving it up and cleaning up after everyone. Paradise was where we would sit down after work and talk about our lives, a group of people from many different countries and cultures, brought together for different reasons, living together and coping together. No one goes to Paradise without their own personal reasons and expectations, and everyone leaves with some questions answered and new feelings that they never thought existed.

Paradise was the home that I made for myself among these people. Paradise was the ability to be myself and learn that I was a natural leader among others. Paradise helped me discover so many things about myself, helped me discard some of them and cherish others. Paradise taught me that it was OK to love, and that it was OK to get upset. If you don’t talk about what you feel and keep it all bottled up inside, it will only lead to explosion and damage. Paradise was the place where I learned that I could be passionate and that I could believe in a better world. Paradise helped me become the person I am today. I will always remember standing on the beach, with the little waves touching my toes, holding hands with the person I loved and imagining a future that would be full of warmth and sunshine. I let go and at the same time finally let people in.

I always knew Paradise couldn’t last forever, and when I had to leave I had already made up my mind to bring it back with me and plant those roots wherever I ended up. Seven years ago I packed my bags again and went off into the unknown and never left. I knew I had nothing to fear anymore. I planted my little roots here in the city, and let them grow deep. Every time I meet with fear, loneliness, pain and heartbreak I walk to the ocean and wash away the intense need to rip up my roots and run away. I let the ocean remind me of the days I spent in Paradise and the times that I learnt to trust myself and others, and go back to my real world revived and ready to fight any more battles that come my way. Life is a constant challenge and battle between highs and lows, pain and happiness and choices. The important part is to remember to be strong and to find the happy medium between the extremes.

Paradise does exist, and I will always carry a piece of my Paradise around with me, wherever I go. Whatever your paradise is, I promise that you will find it one day, maybe even create it for yourself. I’m happy in my real world nowadays, and always know that I can return to Paradise if I ever need to.

Ramblings: Inspired by a quotation...

Short Story/Essay: Paradise Within