Showing posts with label bully. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bully. Show all posts

3/19/2013

Well-controlled life



I hadn't been posting for a while. To be honest I'm a little confused and I don't know what to write.
So many things had changed in my life. When I started writing this blog I was still living in Poland. 
Now it's already my third year in Japan. 

Since I remember I have been trying to live well-controlled life. I loved making plans, to-do lists, I knew how I want to be in two, five, ten and even thirty years!

Surprisingly my moving to Japan wasn't planned at all. After two years I am still sometimes feeling a little weird when I realize I am surrounded by only asian people and I catch myself staring at gaijin (foreigner). Naturally, as born-in-Japan, mixed-race person I was lucky enough to spend whole my childhood between two countries: Poland and Japan. Well, it wasn't part of my plan too. I had been flying to Japan to visit my grandparents every two-years at mine and my older sister's summer vacation's time. When I think of it now, "summer returnings" were the happiest times of my childhood years but the same time, they gave me the most painful and heartbreaking moments when I had to leave my, getting older and smaller every year, grandmother and grandfather.
I remember watching them -waving hands- from taxi's car window. Till the moment they disappear completely. Every summer when we were not going there back, I cried and cried very hard to my mother. I wanted to go back to Japan. I wanted to live there. For me it was a land of happiness. 
My father was a only-child. I had no cousins to play with in Poland. And the parents of my father passed away very early. I hated Poland. I was bullied at school, racial discriminated by my teachers and on the streets. It was a small city in southern Poland. I looked more like an asian, I had unusual, non-polish name - now I understand - it wasn't my fault but they just couldn't leave me alone. I was different than others.

Being and feeling different growing up was the reason I wanted to live a 'normal', very down-to-earth, well-controlled-life. Get married, have kids, build a house some day. So did I. Or I though I do. I found a boyfriend, we were much in love. I wanted to marry him when he returns from military which was a must at that time for young men in Poland.

But seems like it wasn't given to me to live such life. My boyfriend was a drug addict and drug dealer. He had been disappearing from time to time from home and I was going out looking for him. There were weeks of no sign from him. He escaped military service. He promised me to give up drugs but he never did. I kept believing, because he was the most intelligent person I have ever met in my life. He taught me it is ok being who you are, he was the first to compliment me I was mixed-race. 
It was a time of lots of lies. Mine to my parents, his to me.

After I graduated middle school my parents send me to live and study at different, bigger city - Cracow. It wasn't planned as well. My sister, who was very ambitious from early age- attending school and music-school the same time since 7 or 8, always studying at home - she asked my parents if she can move to better high school than our small city was offering. After three years my parents decided I will follow her footsteps. Wasn't I ambitious too? I loved writing, I have been writing since I remember. But all I wanted was a life "like others have". Like my best friend who by the way is married now and is expecting their first baby.
Although I was skipping most of my classes at middle-school to enjoy my teenage-years of so precious first love, I had managed to score high marks and get into one of the best high-school in Cracow. I told my boyfriend about it, he was happy for me. He said its good for me. At that time I was hoping to keep seeing him at the weekends when I return to my "hometown". We said goodbye on the sunny day, the summer was close, I was leaving to Japan.
When I think of it now, I had never taught I was not going to see him ever since any more in my life.
He went missing soon after I left. I was trying to find him many years later but no one knew where he faded away.

My hope for stable life was gone. No love to go back to, the future we had planned together was gone forever. Year later my mother left my family to permanently live in Japan. It was the beginning for us - all of my family members to live separately. I don't know if there is anything more sad in life than going back to an empty house. The very first day I returned home on a friday and I cooked myself a dinner in an empty kitchen, I couldn't swallow any food because of the tears which I was trying to control. I kept telling myself I have to be strong. Of course I understood everything. My mother had to go to look after her parents. But it wasn't changing the fact that it wasn't a life that I wanted. Nor something I could had planned. 
I seeked for stability. I wanted to take control of my own life. I couldn't live any more between two countries, two cities, living half-life not fully tasted, not knowing who I am and where I belong. I knew there are things I can not change but I wanted to gain an independency to finally run away from that circle of longing and reuniting to leave and long again. That was the first time I refused going back to Japan with my mother when she had visited us in Poland. I got engaged. I wanted to live my own life. That was the first time in my life I shouted at my mother. She left. My grandmother died few weeks later.

Today I am sitting in Tokyo. Drinking wine on my own. There is something I can not control about my life. I had been looking for a stability whole my life. But I gave up. I accepted the fact I can't do it. I finally realized, it is not because I was born mixed-race but because it is not the way to find my happiness.

My childhood tough me no one have a choice to decide who you want to be born as, my teenage love tough me I can not put all my desires and hopes in a person because some people come and go no matter how much we wish them to stay. It is that way. I must let go the things that are not controllable.

So do I have a control of my life as a grown-up? Again, no. I choose, or I was chosen to write. Magazines are not doing well. I am young and I need to decide what to do. I know how I want my career to look like, I know which direction I want to go. But.. "But" - there is always something. 
So I realize it is better to keep it simple. Well-controlled life is a life being honest with yourself. Listening carefully your own voice. Not to longings, not to desires but to your own sober voice. Try and see what works. Not giving up but learning and constantly growing. When I look back, I was always trying to find someone not to feel loneliness anymore, I was always fearing of showing my true emotions. Opening up. I was caged, hurt very deeply when there was no reason to be caged nor to feel hurt. I had to learn to let go. Not to feel anger but move on to the next chapter.

Instead of well-controlled life I have chosen to live my life well. Doing what I love. Being good for other people. Writing. Working hard for my future. Dreaming. Watching stars at the warm evenings, smiling to a little cat crossing my road on the way home. Love instead of hate.

The key to the true freedom is in your heart. You have to let go the past - the pain, the people and believe in yourself. We are all born free. Free to love. Free to be happy. Free to dream and make your dreams come true. And there is no one who can take this treasures away from you. We are born with them.

When you are sad - be sad, when you want to cry - cry. When you love - love truly. Do not control it. It's a life.

Yours,

ATO

7/23/2011

To Write: To Live, To Survive



Pola Chérie@photo by Natsuki Fujii

This is very personal post. For people who knows me in person and my dearest long-time-readers my following words can be found shocking but I thought it is high time to open up and tell you what I am doing and trying to do in this life I have been given to live.

This is my blog. You can read my poems and thoughts here but thats only a very tiny part of my works. I am doing my best to finish my projects and I am waiting for a good moment to have it published.

I treat my blog as my notebook. I put here everything I feel is inspirational and I want to share with my readers. But recently my blog gained so many drafts and nothing have been published. Empty days. Huge promises, blank pages. And no words under the dates of months. I started to be afraid to share my words with people to not be abandoned from sociality again. My old fears made me unable to write.

It all made me re-think what is most important for me and what 'writing' means to me.

Is it a passion? Is it a hobby? Am I going to stop when I finish my studies, get hired, start working? But is there any other job for me if not using words?

I never compete with anyone. I hate to compete. I was always walking my own paths and letting people pass me near if they wanted to run. Because I knew we were heading to different goals.


I remember when exactly I start writing. I was six years old, my first year in school. Wadowice. Small city in southern Poland. Seven years after Poland became a free country. First years when foreigners could live here, but no one really did yet.

Except my mother who decided to marry my father and move out from Japan. She still doesn't see anything special about that. It makes me smile everytime I think of it.


I had been suffering from racial discrimination for ten years when I was a child. On the streets, at school. Small asian girl with funny name in the middle of small city of post-communist country.

Firstly too shocked, I didnt know how to react. And for the rest ten years I had no idea what I can do to protect myself.

Being alone I wrote a letter. On small yellow cards with teddy bears illustrations. And I hide it deep in the black space under my bed. I didn't want to hurt my mother by telling her about it.

I guess if someone around at that time said something or did something to help me out my life would be completely different now.

Not reacting is the worst thing you can do when someone is offended by others.


Ten years passed without any word spoken. I kept writing. To Live. To Survive. I run away into my own, imaginary world. World where truth and goodness always wins. This was the beginning of my writing.


Ten years passed and after very troubled teenage years I finally found my own way.

I promised myself I Will React. Always. When I see that the one's soul is in danger.

And that I will fight. For equality and human rights. For children who are suffering from discrimination because of racial, religious or sexual reasons. I fight for every single human being which is hurt by others because of who they are. For no reason. Because of people who are narrow-minded or too blind to see the truth.


I am just a girl - with no power and no money to give.


But I have a words to share.

I want you To React. Whenever you see someone is being harassed just because they are trying to live being themselves.



You can save a life.

You can save someone from pain.

Save someone, someone just like me, from Immortal Illness of Soul.



Be different.

React.


This is my message.


And I keep writing.






Pola Chérie, 24.07.2011 Tokyo



~Dedicated to all my lovely readers, friends and to C. who gave me Strength, to deal with the past, and Hope for the new future, you are my gift!~

3/29/2011

Be Different



That was a one moment when, for the first time, she has realized how much hatred is inside her and if she doesn't do anything, it will take a control of her, she made a decision she will be different.

When she was a little girl the clock's alarm had been ringing every morning at 6:20. And her mother, sleeping next to her, was waking up and heading to kitchen to prepare the breakfast. She heard faint sounds and noises her mother was making, somewhere far away but very close to her.

That was a day mother was sitting in a dark room when a girl returned from school. Mother was holding in her hands yellow Winnie-the-Pooh's diary-notebook she gave her on her birthday knowing how much her daughter likes to write. She opened it. There were three words:

"A Bad Day"

She turned a page. A Bad Day. Next page. A Bad Day. A Bad day. A BAD DAY. Again and again. Under the each date of weeks and months. It was obvious that a girl hadn't been writing anything for a long time and that she filled one day the empty pages with that, the same sentence.

A girl didn't want to look at mother's eyes.

That was a time she had been suffering from discrimination at school. Every single day was like a downfall, a collapse deeper and deeper into the darkness of hell. That was a time she was full of miserable hatred for people who are hurting her, for world, for herself and for God who created her.

But a girl had been keeping it as a secret in front of her mother. She didn't want to make her sad.

The Hatred is like a poison injected into a ones heart. And one small sore motion can make it spread all over our body taking control of us.

The Hatred takes away faith, hope and love. It makes you cold, heartless and incapable to feel the happiness.

It makes you feel like you are a bad person and like you are able to harm people without any mercy for them.

Yes, she wanted to see her torturers dying in a infernal pain. She wanted to see them begging for help. Dissappering into the throat of the fire. Only then they could feel what they have done to her.
She thought her mother saw it. Saw how the poison spread all over her soul and made her a beast.

But mother didn't ask about anything. She said:

"I believe you grow up to be a very good person."

And a girl understood.

If you hate it is your loss.

Because even if there are people who hate you and wish you worst things - you do not have to hate them.

Because even if there are people who are saying false things about you - you do not have to respond to it and try to argue with them.

Because hatred is not an answer.

She understood some day she will have a power to stand up for others like her, suffering from violence and discrimination.

And she heard a voice in her heart saying

Be different

Do not hate

You are a God's creation


~Pola Chérie Be different~



Vanity Fair Italy March 2011, M: Bianca Balti, P: Signe Vilstrup; The Ones2Watch, M: Saara & Teresa, P: Ville Varumo, S: Heidi Marika Urpalainen; Vogue Italia, March 2011, Dreaming of Another World, P: Time Walker; C: fashionising.com, fashiongonerogue.com, hautemacabre.com

2/22/2011

A Snake in the Nest




I had a dream that there was a snake in the nest and while the mother was away he injected a poison into the chicks hearts. He disappeared but a mother knew what have happened to her children. And she knew she has to kill them so that the poison won't spread all over their bodies and become a danger to them and to the others life.

But they looked into her eyes and begged for her protection. They were too small to understand that the poison have changed their hearts for ever.
The poison made them able to feel the happiness hundred times stronger than normal creatures but also they felt a pain and the hate hundred times stronger than others. If the hate wins in their hearts and take a control of them, nobody knew what could they do.
Mother looked at them for the last time and she flew away in sorrowful silence.
And I woke up in the empty room. Feeling the pain which is never passing.

~Pola Chérie Thoughts~

Pola Chérie Thoughts 2011 @ All rights reserved


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