dinner poem

the trains still terminate in altona
would anybody really say so I wonder
as ususal on my way home

all of a sudden january became freezing cold

all men are equal no matter what they look like
declare the kids as soon as we start cooking
that’s what we learned in school today
and by the way mom what is kinderrechte in english

by the way daughters you unfriend your friends on facebook
that’s what I learned today
I unfriend friends who are no friends
well that makes sense does it not

daughter one stirs the soup
it’s her birthday tomorrow and together
they are almost 24 years old at least it seems like
I lived 24 years since they are with me

all that I struggled with creeps out of my skin
falls right down on the kitchen floor
I hear a silent swash

while the sky goes to sleep
while the moon rises over altona

fat and yellow

(Better late than never …) inspired by – http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/20/weekly-writing-challenge-lunch-posts/#more-66914



I do my best thinking when not thinking at all. Not thinking about the subject that I have to think about at a certain time – that’s when my best thoughts arrive, coming home from a crowded realm. Silence is important for welcoming them. Noise will scare them away. (Rarely it’s the other way around). Often the best thoughts are attracted by the prospect of a ample conversation, the exchange of interesting thoughts and opinions with another person. Those of them that need a little more maturing do so in paper notebooks or in my iphone where I visit them once in a while. Those of them that must stand in line right away for professional reasons will be accompanied to my computer.


Letter to my Young Friend

My beloved friend,

I was very happy to see you last week-end for your birthday – but I was so sad to see that you’re struggling with depression and anxiety again. I was sad, and I was reminded of myself many years ago. I know this feeling so well; the feeling that we are aware of our problems, that we struggle hard to keep them down and struggle even harder to have a life that comes close to what is considered normal.

Let me tell you a little about myself. I would like to encourage you not to accept this state of mind, not to arrange with life that is not the life that you deserve, that is less than a half lived life.

At some point, when I had felt for the longest time like I was only functioning but not living, I decided to seek professional help. Finally I accepted the defeat that I would not be able to get rid of the pieces of rocks in my body and brain without someone helping me; those pieces of rocks that were slowing me down until I couldn’t move any more and that hole in my brain that just swallowed sentences, words and ideas. It is a terrible defeat, especially for us who are capable of so much. But I just didn’t want to go on like that. Somewhere buried deep down there was a vague feeling that there could be a better life and that I wanted it. Now. The other feeling was: fear. I was scared to to lose control even more than I already had.

I was lucky insofar that I found a therapist fairly quickly, a middle-aged woman, calm and wise, compassionate but distant at the same time. This is the most crucial part besides the confession that depression and anxiety has taken complete control of you, finding a therapist whom you trust. Trust in the therapist is absolutely essential for working with her or him. (In case you stumbled across the word “work” in this context – that’s the word I heard my therapist use once in a while and I think it’s right. It is hard work to get rid of mental problems even though on first sight the whole thing seems to be only about talking). Pretty soon you get to the point where – among other things – you have to accept some unpleasant facts about your life, your history and the people around you and you’re dependent on a therapist who can guide you through it.

2014-01-03 13.00.42

And there is the sadness – the sadness that I saw in you when we met the last time. You know, I think one of the reasons for depression is tears that we do not cry. Tears that we do not cry because we buried the corresponding feelings so deeply that we do not even know that they’re there.

For me, it took three years and looking back I tell you it’s worth all the trouble, it’s worth all the tears and pain. Once you’re through all the sadness, you have a new life. A new life that feels warm and weightless and you’re the strongest person that you can think of. Sounds pathetic and trashy, doesn’t it? But that’s indeed how I felt once I had stopped seeing my therapist. What is more, you’ll be able to handle whatever challenge your new life may keep ready for you, even if it’s a relapse. More than once I was frightening close to or even right in a severe crisis. But it has never been as bad as it used to be before I had undergone therapy.

My beloved friend, I so very much wish for you that you will find your way out of your problems. I so very much wish for you that soon your life will no longer be loaded with this terrible trouble of the mind. If there’s anything I can do for you in the meantime, I’ll be there, I hope you know.

All my love,

your Aunt P.

(Written as a contribute to the Zero-to-Hero Challenge, Day 3 – http://dailypost.wordpress.com/zero-to-hero/).

My Name is …

… Mrs. Frustrated. These widgets almost drove me crazy – it took about 102 attempts only to add the zero to hero badge to my footer sidebar. But finally I succeeded and adding a text widget was a little easier. The outcome doesn’t exactly thrill me – but hey … I’m not a hero, I’m supposed to become one. The widgets mostly agreed to be under my control and I’ll always be able to improve them. So therefore Mrs. Frustrated is going to change her name to Mrs. Quite-Content, I think.


I don’t know who I am. I know who I am

I don’t know who I am – well, at least not quite when thinking about the intention of this blog. The basic idea was to publish my poems and maybe a photo once in a while. There were more and more people who liked my poems a lot and I was looking for an easy way to provide them with new ones. Attracting new readers would be good, too, so I thought, but if not that’s fine for the beginning, too. Then I discovered the Daily Prompts and the Weekly Challenges and all of a sudden I was inspired to experiment with other forms than just poems and pictures. The pleasurable side-effect was that I rediscovered my love of the English language. So actually it doesn’t really matter that I do not know who I am. I like my blog the way it is so far and I enjoy writing for it. There’s only one thing missing: More readers. Therefore I feel like accepting the challenge, sharing more of my observations of everyday life and (hopefully!) becoming a hero by the end of the month.


Ghosts of Mays Past


On the 20th of May fourteen years ago, she got married to the wrong man. The very minute she had given the promise to marry him, she somehow felt that this wasn’t going to last. She used to think though that getting married is the logical next step when having a child with someone – and yes, there was no need to tell her that most people consider it’s supposed to be the other way round. A little more than five years later she finally had the nerves, the inner independence and the money to take the kids and leave her husband. The time to come turned out to be the best of her life so far.

Finally free

Finally she was free of all anxiety and lack of self-confidence that had dominated her until the age of 40. During the months following the break-up the only thing she really missed was her wedding ring. In the attempt to convince herself that getting married is a good idea, she had chosen rather big, golden rings with a sparkling diamond right in the middle of them. It was beautiful and it was the only piece of jewelry she really liked in spite of all the unhappiness of her marriage. She would’ve loved it to stay it where it was, but keeping a wedding band on her right hand after having left her husband did not feel quite right. The ring disappeared in a drawer and from then on it was as far away as the memory of the reason why she originally had it.

The next year

May 20th of the year that followed the separation was a warm and sunny day. She had just left for work when she received several text-messages from her ex-husband who reminded her of their wedding day six years ago. Her anger about these texts did not last long. She passed by a musician who once in a while played on the street; she just loved his songs that always sounded a bit sad. The music mixed with the sun and once again she thought how much better off she was without a husband (and without anyone who might have taken his place). Maybe, she mused, maybe this marriage was one of the many detours that had determined her life so far; it seemed like she needed them and it seemed like she needed the sadness that came with them in order to be happy when having reached her temporary final destination.


She listened to the musician for a little while and then, abandoning herself to an impulse, she turned around and headed back home. She took her wedding ring out of the drawer, stuffed it in the pocket of her jeans and went out again, hoping that the musician, whose stage was the street, would still be there. He was and so she dropped the ring together with a couple of coins in the box that he had placed before him. She had almost reached the train-station when she heard someone yelling from behind: “Lady! Excuse me, Lady!”. She turned around and saw the musician waving at her. “Lady! You lost your ring in my box!”. His German had a strong accent of some kind that she could not assign to any familiar language. “No”, she said, smiling. “It’s yours. Keep it or give it away, whatever you like”. He stared at her, puzzled, turning the ring with the diamond in his hand. “It is”, she said. “Seriously”. She turned around and continued her way feeling that this was the best thing to do with the once beloved ring.

 Four years later

In year four after the break-up she was in love again, although she had assumed that this would never happen again. She used to think that no man would be ready to fall in love with the strong-willed, independent woman that she was. Much to her surprise it looked like she was mistaken. On the night of May 19th they were going to have their third date and even though it was only their third date, they knew that this wasn’t the cool and distant affair which they both had imagined in the beginning. As every year, her ex-husband kept writing her texts, reminding her of their wedding day. Only that this time he had gotten mixed up with the date and send them a day too early. A couple of hours before she was going to meet the man who was to become her long-term lover and companion, her phone rang and she recognized a number which she had hoped she would never see again. It belonged to a man with whom she had worked together closely for a while. Their business relationship ended abruptly when she realized that his company was insolvent and that he tried to cheat on her in order to save what could not be saved. She had heard rumors saying that he was very sick but still she was shocked hearing him say: “I was diagnosed with cancer and they say I’m going to die within three to six months. I do not want to die without saying I’m sorry for everything I did to you”.

There is nothing left to say

After a few more sentences she hung up, her hands shaking – was there anything you could you respond to such a message that would make any sense? There wasn’t. Why is that, she asked an imaginary dialog partner. Why does always luck and happiness come with such news? It is, as if there can be no sunshine without the shade, isn’t it? In case we want to bother a battered comparison that is, but right now I cannot think of a better one. The shade of this news hung over her date which nevertheless left her cheerful and content. Her former business partner died only five weeks later. Maybe she thought, maybe love reminds us just like death that time just doesn’t go by. Time tells us to make the best of it, again and again everyday.IMGP2708

May 2oth

The following years, she appreciated the fact that nothing extraordinary happened on May 20th . She went to her office, she saw clients, she cooked dinner for the kids. Which was good, since anything else would have probably scared her. She was glad that somehow over the years she seemed to have reached a state of mind that enabled her to have what she called mediocrity in her feelings and she didn’t want this mediocrity disturbed by news that would endanger it, be them positive or negative.