When I was a child, I wanted to be a Nun or live on an island alone. I felt that life would have been so much better this way, and that is something I never unpacked. Instead, I have tried to go about the daily task of living like everyone seems to be striving to live. I did well enough in school to get a place at University and worried my way to an upper second-class degree. Right after leaving university, I got a temporary job that seemed promising. This opportunity led to a career I never planned for but was determined to work hard at, and I did. I worked hard to get better, to a point where I gained the ambition to move up in rank at some level within this career path. Eventually, I acquired a senior position after working hard to improve my skills. On paper, it seemed as if I was doing well, but I did not feel like I was doing well. I felt like a jellyfish just drifting, doing everything and nothing. Just going through the motions. I had worked hard and seemed to accomplish little except showing that I was a hard worker, dedicated to the job. I tried to please everyone, and I was immensely dissatisfied. I looked at my life and realised I still wanted to live on that damn island. I wish I could find somewhere away from everyone and everything I knew. Everything I had done was nothing I wanted to do, and I felt the weight of the wasted years, the missed opportunities to do what I wanted to do and be what I naturally was. It felt like it was too late. Then I started to panic. I had finally earned a position I thought would make all the work and sacrifice and stress worth it, and I felt defeated. I spent my twenties and thirties trying to do the right things and be the better person, and I did not enjoy those years at all. I spent them being resentful, nervous, suicidal, and battling severe panic attacks that saw me rushed to the hospital on several occasions, tied down to restrain me on one of those occasions. I have not recovered. I tried once to take my life, but at that time I was, for the first time, failing at everything, so that was a bust. I had an eating disorder that lasted over ten years. I was a mess! Yet, through all the mess, I had to go to work, be there for others and pretend to be okay, act strong. So, by the time I had gotten that position, I was sick and desperate…
Author: Simone
Loves to tell and hear untold stories about people, places and experiences!
Inertia
I drift in and out of reality and wonder why I even try. The world and all its problems feel like a depressant that keeps me anxious, shaking in bed. Lately, I feel as if I am always drifting in REM atonia. An Old Hag, I see myself in a broken mirror, dissected, distorted, real yet imagined, and I wonder: when did this happen? I do not have the answer; all I know is that Somnambulism has become my new norm. Yet no one seems to have caught on yet. They all treat me as if my words, smile, movements, and interested blank stares are real. I cannot be enthused by the monotony of office gossip or the platitudes of meaningless praise. Life has become a series of little nightmares, ending each day on a cliffhanger.
I have found myself in the worst kind of horror movie. For no one comes to kill me, and each day I awake to new horrors, terrifyingly ordinary and deadly just the same. In a state of Hypnagogia, I remember the faces of all those who have gone ahead and live with those who will soon be gone. Life moves from sunny disposition to bitter cold tentacles of doom. Yet each day I must perform the ritual of the living dead. I must continue on a broken reel that I must push so I continue to stay in the same motion of going nowhere. Yet, for all of this, I give thanks…
When I grow up
When I grow up...
I'll be an astronaut
travel the galaxies
explore all outerspaces -
I'll be a firefighter
be a hero
save lives -
I'll be a doctor
get rich
make everyone proud -
I'll write my story
happy ever after
where all monsters die -
I'll be a superstar
loved by all
have diamonds and pearls -
I'll be the greatest
powers beyond belief
no one can stop me -
I'll be unstopable
untoucable
unchangeble...
But at 2 scores plus 2,
when will I grow up?
Daggers
Memories are like daggers and boulders
the cut deep anhd crush mercilessly.
I wish I could tell my youngerself
it's okay to be you
to not shrink to fit a mould
too small
limiting and not true.
Memories leave wounds that struggle to heal
festering with each new failure
until Little becomes a bid deal.
Them memories
choke the life out of your reality
because they mock the you
you buse to be
could have been should have been
may never be...
Memories are like daggers and boulders
At once their is deep joy and deathly pain
when you realise
you can never live that life again
burning lava snake down your face
and leave a trail of regret
that overwhelms and defeats
I have to hold tight
today I gain relieve by looking ahead
My tommorow may yet spring a mustard seed
Rest…
I cast my net
reached for the biggest fish
It swallowed me whole
and spit
out my net.
I survived
recovered what was lost -
my net had been stretched
broken
torn
forever changed.
I cast it again
landed a crab
claws so thick
claws so sharp
it slipped
out
left a big hole
let garbage came in -
my net collapsed
was on life support...
Then this fisherman came in
and as I reflect on it
he told me to cast my net
but I did not want to give in
so he said:
"throw it with everything,
cast it one more time"
so I did
and until today
I see miracles with every mend.
My Own Story
I tired to draw my own story
Today
I sat with my pen and paper
Today
I drew myself first
Today
So I could see me
everyday.
Then I drew my village
placed my people in it
picked a house and lived in it
my story is me.
Then my story needed joy
and I drew all that too
I needed a boy
and I drew him too
but he broke and fell off
but first he broke me in two.
My story flows in and around through and above
my story.
Most times - there are dark forests-
but I don't want to be red riding hood
but I still met all my wolves
on watery full moons.
Then the pencil broke and my canvas flew away.
Now the Artist has taken over
and my story colours are bolder...
Words Matter… Context is Everything.
Following up on my article yesterday about being referred to as being “nice” or “too nice”, I had exchanges with two people on the word nice and how it can be viewed and what it says about the person being described in such a way. I would like to put both responses and then give my own as well.
Response 1: I agree with this wholeheartedly. “Nice” often feels like a shallow label — something people use to box you into compliance, to make you more palatable, or to take advantage of you without acknowledging your depth. It’s a performance that benefits others more than it does you, and it comes at a real cost to your mental, emotional and even physical well-being. Kindness, on the other hand, is a deliberate act. It comes from strength, not obligation. It doesn’t require self-erasure or perfection but instead demands authenticity and discernment. Being kind means honouring yourself first, setting boundaries and then choosing to extend care when it’s genuine. That’s real goodness. You’re right, Moonshine, nice gets you drained, but kind keeps you whole, and there’s nothing wrong with disappointing people if it means you finally stop disappointing yourself.
Response 2: “Nice” is an adjective that describes something as pleasant, agreeable, or satisfactory, but it can also mean kind, friendly, or polite in reference to a person’s behaviour. I think nice is a word that has evolved over time. When you see the definition of nice in the quote, then you may start to feel happier about the word. The bible doesn’t use the word nice, it is true, but the language of the day may have needed more emphasis. I sense your hurt deeply. Try and reframe the word nice to the above definition when remembering, I’m not sure if that will help…
According to Google, the word nice originally meant “ignorant” or “foolish,” derived from the Latin nescius, meaning “not knowing”. Over centuries, it evolved through French and English into a broad range of meanings, including “fussy,” “delicate,” “strange,” “shy,” and “dissolute”. The modern meaning of “pleasant” or “agreeable” emerged in the mid-18th century and is the sense that has become most common today. It is fascinating that although the modern interpretation and meaning are positive, I still felt the negative connotation of nice as a label when it was spoken to me. Nice, based on my readings, can be a dismissive (back-handed)compliment, meaning that someone is viewed as overly accommodating to gain approval. Added to this is the idea that someone who is overly accommodating prioritises the needs, desires, and comfort of others to such an extreme that their own needs, well-being, and sense of self are consistently neglected, often leading to burnout, resentment, and being taken advantage of. So, being called nice is for me an insult because of the situations and conversations in which the word was said. Nice, on its own, can be taken at face value as something good, but even the person using it may not be consciously aware of it. When I look at my life, it has been chapters written by an overly accommodating person who has made too many decisions that were not based on my skills, talents or interests but out of the need for approval by society or people I come in contact with and establish some type of relationship. So I do not want to be nice. I want to evolve.
I want to evolve to just being kind. Now again, according to Google, “kind” has two primary meanings: a type or sort of something, and having a friendly, sympathetic, or benevolent nature. Both meanings stem from the Old English word gecynd, meaning “natural disposition” or “nature,” which itself comes from the Proto-Germanic root kundi-, related to kunjam (“family”) and ultimately the Proto-Indo-European root gene-, meaning “to give birth”. This root suggests an original sense of inherent nature, class, or generation, which evolved into both the concept of a “kind” or category and the sense of natural, positive feelings associated with one’s family, leading to “kindness”. Being kind is all about authenticity. From the definition and explanation above, I want to take the term “natural disposition” and, from that, look at its synonym “innate”. Innate means something that exists in a person or thing from birth, is an essential part of its nature, or is a natural, inherent quality rather than something learned or acquired through experience. Being nice is authenticity that does not require compensation or overcompensation. In the bible, the word nice is never used, but the word kind can be found in several scriptures:
Galatians 5:22-23 -“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
Ephesians 4:32 -“Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you”.
1 Corinthians 13:4- “Love is patient, love is kind”
Proverbs 12:25: “Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up”.
2 Samuel 9:7: “And David said to him, ‘Do not fear, for I will show you kindness for the sake of your father Jonathan, and I will restore to you all the land of Saul your father, and you shall eat at my table always. ‘”.
The bible is saturated with examples of Jesus engaging people with truth, challenging their behaviour, thoughts and intentions. Being kind means showing love, being compassionate, forgiving and upholding truth. It means uplifting others, reflecting the love of Christ. Being kind means having the courage to say no, even if it causes discomfort, speaking the truth, even if no one agrees or supports your action. Being kind takes strength, and it takes courage. One of the most vivid depictions of this is the incident where Jesus went into the temple and overturned all the commercial tables, saying, “Get these out of here! Stop turning my Father’s house into a market!”. It was not done to please those people but to save their souls, to save worshippers from exploitation. He was not nice, but he was kind. His motive was to save them and make them aware of their danger in carrying out such activities in the house of the Lord. In that situation, he did not focus on being agreeable or avoiding disturbances; he was not seeking followers and so was not concerned about projecting an image palatable to those he chastised. Further, he did not avoid the truth of the situation by remaining silent, nor did he do it expecting to receive applause. He was not trying to be nice, but he acted out of kindness even if the people at that time did not recognise it as such.
So when I consider all these, I have to say there is a value in being kind and not nice that I want to achieve. I do not want to be nice because nice has kept me silent, rooted and furled tight like a flower that is still waiting to bloom. The bible holds truths and lessons that cannot be negated, and one such truth is the importance and value of being kind. It’s nice to be nice, but it’s much more powerful and freeing to be kind.
“My life got better when I realised I didn’t have to be nice. Nice got me run over, stressed out, & disrespected. I’m not nice. I’m a good person.” (unknown)
