Last month was officially exhausting. There are no ifs or buts. It was to the core, 100%, soul drainingly exhausting.  Lessons learned? I doubt it!

After the weekend’s minor nervous breakdown I appear to have completely lost my mind. At the very least, the ability to act sensibly with a certain group of friends. I have decided to find myself a gun belt in order to transport my daily banana rations to school and go everywhere with a luxurious supply of toilet roll (explained away by allergies and bladder problems… so perhaps the lack of running water in my apartment that is contributing to this (hopefully) temporary madness). Yesterday me and Mahgol were almost forcibly removed from COOP-extra when we dissolved into uncontrollable, gut clenching laughter at the checkout. We later collapsed into aching fits of giggles in the kitchen, Afshin’s room, the corridor… the bus on the way to school this morning…  Kåren at lunch time… pretty much anywhere the two of us were in earshot.

We meditated again yesterday after class. 20 minutes of breathing before my shift on the baguettes. The sudden realisation of tenseness. I thought I had relaxed a little, but in fact my muscles were so taught I was sitting three centimeters taller than normal. My calves and thighs in some tight competition. Breathing was a pain, and when I finally cleared my head it was filled with the smell of long waving dry grass and the sensation of holding my mothers hand as I walked. A strawberry haired three year old in a hay field. Grass, sun, a breeze in dry air, and my hand in another’s. It turned up again.

I miss my mum, and I miss my bathroom. In different ways of course. On Friday I was rudely awoken but a builder removing my bathtub. By 10pm  Monday my bathroom had been reduced to a mass of concrete and more dust that you would consider possible. Cold water can be found in the stairwell and washing facilities are a short trek away (delightful in today’s blizzard conditions!) Planning toilet trips is one of those irritations that makes us realise how lucky we are most of the time.

We also talked about fathers and that unending trust. They are strong men. Invincible. Unbreakable. Unbelievably wise. Both Mahgol and I miss the protection we used to feel; being with THE man in our lives. But we have grown. And now my heart keeps thrashing around like an oxygen starved fish, desperate to find it’s way back to water. Drowning in the atmosphere. A battle between protection, intellect and sex.

And now it is time for more studying. The Swedish verb for studying is ‘plugga’. I think it is the most wonderfully suitable word.

Hugs to you all!