City of Angels

I’m in a Marshrutka again. For One week I see myself going back and forth crossing the same station three times from different sides now returning completely. All the way back to the Black Sea with a big knot in my throat, tears in my eyes. A big drama. One of those I know. One that I ignited. One that I started only to get the all too well know reaction of mirroring my anger, frustration and disappointment, turning the whole situation in an uncontrollable fire. A fire that I wanted him to extinguish, to suffocate before it started burning but instead like so many times before I got the mirror. The same anger, frustration and disappointment arising, escalating in the same blame I’ve heard so many times before. Me being the reason for all bad, accusing me of manipulation, making fake drama, not being normal. Self-fulfilling prophecy. I’ve heard it all before. One too many times. Uncountable times. All this hurt. Pleading him to stop goes into nowhere as at this point he is understandably in rage to take it all out on me. I earned his hate. Throwing the hardest words at me at the same time wanting to force me into a face to face conversation even when I block him on the first channel. That escalated quickly. There’s no way he’s stepping on my side, where I’m coming from, even finding the empathy for being a woman who’s been hurt too many times before, also needing to protect herself. Rightfully so as I attacked him. Don’t expect someone to be able to feel your heart when you were the attacker. He doesn’t deserve it and I also don’t. I just wanna be held. I may have caused the situation and it may not have been fair towards him but it is what I need to do right now to protect myself from more of the same hurt. I don’t have the strength to hold situations anymore, discussing, accusing, blaming. Even if I’m wrong, even if I’m unfair. I cannot hold it. I need someone to hold it for me because I unfortunately have held it too many times for the wrong people. Now this space needs to be held for me even if it may not be their responsibility for that respective situation because I ran out of capacity, out of fuel, out of fairness. I do not wanna be a person who is hurting others. I don’t want to turn it around, yet I do need someone  who maybe can keep up with a situation that I’ve created from zero to hero, first making sure that I’m ok until I am, especially when I don’t deserve it, so I can heal. So I can trust again. So I can feel safe again. So I can give my love back safely. This reassurance that I cannot respectfully expect of anyone, yet I am in need of it. I hope he can forgive me for hurting him.

The air is becoming warmer, the closer we get to the Black Sea. Have I left such two wonderful days behind me when I was lucky enough to be shown one of the most stunning places I have seen in a long time, taking my breath away again for how many beautiful magical places this country is hiding far out in the mountains. Majestic rocks, surrounded by wild forests, trees densely side by side creating a green jungle all around as we climb higher and higher in this fairy tale forest, surrounded by the pillar rocks offering the most astonishing views. Over an hour one view becomes more beautiful than the next, challenging my fear of heights when I sit on the rocks exposed to the cliffs and the overwhelming views over the cities, lakes, trees and mountains. I’m so happy my host brother took me to see that gem, that pearl of nature. I would have never heard of, let alone been able to reach it if it wasn’t for him. 

The next day I decide to explore the only thing I find in apparent walking distance on the map. A waterfall. What else?! No surprise there. What was surprising in the end when I return after six hours is the number of steps on my phone. 30.000. Instead of the six kilometers this magical little place appeared to be double as far. On the way to the waterfall I don’t mind the walk as this is exactly what I need. Enjoying the marvelous mountain scenery, the beauty of Racha nature around me for at least the day I have. 

Yet wasn’t it worth the effort in the end?! Yes it was. As every little adventure I was nowhere near disappointment but still completely love struck by the shining blue sky which did not show a single cloud throughout the entire day, the deep green trees and majestic rock scenery although I prayed for half the way back that it would already end as it seemed to have had become longer with every step I took. Finally arriving I call it a day and speak to my loved ones.

~* Time after time I drank from the poisoned wine

Yeah I picked the wrong kind

I got a feeling, I got feeling 

The danger is coming *~

                                    SIA

Batumi. I’m at his flat. Finally arriving after the drama tearing me apart inside. Everything went smooth as it could possibly could on point until this moment. Our communication. A drama par excellence out of the books. Tragic, dramatical outbursts, tears, anger, insults, rage, hurt… it’s going back and forth until I finally sit down on his couch. Broken, empty, exhausted from my own pain. From fighting. From fighting from the abuse against the abuse. Against being hurt again. Against the past crawling up inside of me so adamantly, so harsh, so real, so dangerous like I can’t survive it. Not one more time. Fighting to be heard, to be seen, to be loved, to be cared for, unconditionally. Without questioning me or who I am. Taking me with all I am. A struggle too deep to survive, for my own existence, taken out in the here and now on the wrong one. Shooting back with anger, understandable, yet hurting again although he wants to hold me until he finally does. He letting me be, letting my tears flow, holding me in his arms, stroking my hair, kissing my head. I’m safe. For now. He’s safe. Yet he will not want me as I am with my hurt. He will not want to cure me. 

He is hurt. Unconsciously reflecting his past on me, hurting when I’m trying get to know him instead of blindly assuming what he is about. His pain hurting me. Angrily leaving the bedroom, he returns after five minutes without a word. 

Most hurt/wounds are created by misunderstandings. Often it’s not other people’s actions that are hurting me but my interpretation of their actions or words. And my interpretations are predominantly telling me about myself. - Michael Nast

This is my final call. It’s time to leave. He cannot have me for who I am. He cannot look at his own identity, questioning what he knows but instead blames me for asking the questions that bring clarity. Questions to build a relationship instead making faulty assumptions. Instead of building an illusion. He wants me to be that illusion I cannot be. I don’t want to be. A euphemistic version of himself. I want to see truth. I want to see, to know, to learn about the real person. He wants something different and so we have to part. 

We’re hugging, holding each other, caressing each other’s hair, face, head. I plant kisses all over his face, squeezing him so tightly like I want to dissolve all the pain we had to deal with over the last 12 hours, curing our hurt hearts. I breathe him in, his soft skin, his kisses, the touch of his hands on my skin, my cheeks, my hair. I wish this intimacy, this healing touch could last. But it’s time to go.

I barely sleep. Too much turmoil inside of me, too many emotions. The past, the presence, my future mixing up, a struggle for survival to cut through the pain and find love. A home. A safe space. 

Let‘s love… I write him a letter. My heart clenching as I get ready, a knot in my throat, I feel nauseous, I’m shaking. I have to return his key. I am so afraid of his reaction like it could break me yet one too many times.

I’m wrong. Nothing happens. Luckily and fortunately none of my fears turns into reality. Asking him where to put the key, he doesn’t ask a single question, wants no explanation, doesn’t blame me but only asks if I could wait 20 minutes for him to come so we could hug each other goodbye. Seeing his message, I stare at my phone in disbelief. Relief. I can literally hear the rock crashing on the floor that falls off my heart when I’m reading his message. He made space for all the beautiful feelings I have for him to return. His attentiveness, his softness, kindness, his care for making sure I feel ok. A boy with the potential to truly love if he’s brave enough to look at his own story and care enough to see how it made him.

I take my bag, ready to go, happy to hug him for a last time. He pulls up with his car right in front of me, opening the door, pulling me closely into him. I burry my head between his neck and shoulder one last time, trying to soak him all inside me. We have such great chemistry. I could just touch you all the time, he says the night before when he returns from his little excursion to the living room. That’s what we have. Holding me in his arms he directly starts telling me everything I need to hear out of his mouth to make this a healing experience. Letting me know how much he enjoyed our time together, that he’s always there for me, that I can return whenever I want to if I needed anything I could just text. He cares. Asking me to inform him when I find a hostel and if I needed anything. Now or ever. I will be here. You are a great woman, it’s just so nice to have you around and have you close. 

With mixed feelings I leave. Bittersweet like last week. Another one to leave behind yet feeling lucky to have had the moments to be held. To be held by him when I was in tears, when my heart broke. On my way to that hostel that I knew I needed to be at. It comes at no surprise to me that I feel in the right place as soon as I enter, no disappointment here but confident happiness. From the first minute I’m joking with the staff, a known face from last week, looking out through the curtains, a girl hugging me laughing. You’re ready for coffee? I’m laughing. I have to go. Beach. Friends, walking, clearing my head. My heavy heart. It’s your process Lina. You need to be there. It’s absolutely understandable how you go to the extreme now to protect your heart from being ripped out of your chest again before being capable of balancing it out from positive experiences with men that you will need. You are not supposed to manage this on your own. Reality needs to prove to you that men can be good to you, take care of your heart and all being, coming to your side in compassion before you can finally relax and trust that he will care for you and not leave you for being you. Time. Patience, reassurance. Her words soothing my pain. She’s inside me. She feels me. 

I’m shielded sensitively by my friends. All of them having the kindest words for me, understanding, sharing their love with me. Just know that you are loved and held my sweet. By so many. Not only me. That love I will share later on that day when I’m becoming the center of the Universe through his eyes. Isn’t it the most fulfilling feeling seeing a person you love being loved by others?! 

Surrounded by beautifully crazy souls our team grows by the night as does insanity. Our topics wild philosophical, psychological sarcastic, real, true, authentic. Four most humanly possible people bringing their stories, showing up as they are, in their most authentic version, judgmental free, embracing each other for all they are, laughing about our pains and struggles, sitting on the rocky beach under the moon, drinking beer and wine, playing guitar, singing along, off key, off melody, happy, sad, light and heavy, hurting and healing, being human in all we are. 

No, I don’t care if I sing off key I find myself in my melodies, I sing for love I sing for me, I shout it out like a bird set free. - SIA

Hey you’re from the hostel no? Can I come along with you? He’s playing chess with the Georgians on the side of the street. I smile. Earlier he was sitting across the yard. He remembers me. A new squad member. What a perfect with. Coming with the same purity of neuroplasticism as we do, a likeminded spirit. Putting the rate of Germans in the Russian group into proportion. Only the male-female distribution is out of balance. Yet each one of them in their own unique way connecting to me personally, looking me in the eyes, asking me questions, making sure… I am still here. A multicolored blend of stories, topics, types of the universe. 

I think men should be the calm ones in a relationship, so woman can give their emotions and energy and give them life, making them feel more alive. Russian friend number three. I would sign his statement as it comes. 

Around midnight all our depth shows its aftermath. Exhaustion. Bed time. The next day we will reconnect, the same sparkle in their eyes whenever I see either one of them. I want to come. Secret falafel place. He’s giving me the sarcastic look. Ah come on Lina that’s too inappropriate. I smile and return to my broccoli. My German support is leaving. Still and slow he’s hugging me deeply as if we’ve been close friends when we have exchanged no more than a few words over a few hours. Yet I can feel his heart on my chest, is how close he’s holding me. The love is returned mutually. This is a special place. A place of connection, a place that brings back life into my veines. Joy, appreciation and love for one another in our purest form. [Only in that moment I wouldn’t know how right I am and what’s yet to come the same day.] Two more days until she will be here. The best, the strongest, my support, my love. Two more days of Beach City, the city of love, the city for healing. The city I once rejected so much that has been growing so close to my heart now.

Having said that I walk out of my room only to find my feelings for this city once more affirmed by another totally unexpected afternoon/evening/night. Being surrounded by my loved Russian squad of absurdity who celebrate me like a pop queen, every time exchanging gazes, looking at me smiling bright as if they’ve just seen an angel in my eyes, giving me this joy of having found true friendship. Friends who will not leave again. Friends who will stay here in this city waiting for me to return just like my first date, followed by the one last night. 

Having the same look in his eyes when we’re sitting on the beach as if he sees something more beautiful than he’s ever known before. I lll…like you so much Lina. You’re so incredible. Will you come back? I will miss you so much. Two hours before when I passed by him, kneeling on the floor he’s asking me to marry him. A proposal. For me. I smile and say yes right away under the condition that he doesn’t bring his bills that he is sorting on the floor. Instead he’s asking me to come to the beach with him five minutes later to pay all the bills for the night. From the first bottle of wine, to the Ori Aperoli in the most striking sunset, making the Italian Georgian, to the restaurant that he will take me to after the blood red sun is finally touching the sea. Yet this is not the ending. When he asks me if I’m hungry he’s already considered a place to go to. What a place. A hotel restaurant terrace on one of these shiny futuristic techno sky scraper buildings that I would have never thought of entering like the casinos for the richest. Yet here I am, feeling like a princess coming along in our swim dress and slippers right off the beach being served by his friends who are nothing less than lovely from the service to playing any song I want to hear. The brighter I smile, the happier he seems to be. He wants me happy. I want him happy. I am happy. I’m singing, moving around to the songs in front of our fancy dinner table. When I look him in the eyes, when he’s touching me, holding me, kissing me I can feel nothing but his heart shining so bright, bursting from kindness, giving me the feeling that I’m the most precious jewel in existence. Treating me like the rawest diamond, giving me nothing less but the feeling of being loved. He’s not shy to express the same. 

After another three glasses of white wine he wants me to spend the night with him. I explain to him why I don’t think it’s a good idea feeling that this is again a destructive act of repetition like the last meetings ending in disappointment only because the man cannot bring the patience to wait. I give in despite knowing better. He’s taking me to the hotel next door after doing the shopping for necessities. Golden ceilings, marvel floors, chandeliers, we’re taking the elevator to the 39th floor. The situation is good enough for a movie, giggling like teenagers, holding hands, spending a night in a luxury hotel which makes it even worthwhile for me as a memorable experience. I will never forget this day he says so sincerely that I hope it will cause him more happiness than hurt when he’s looking back to it. The night is a wave of deep connection, intense physical entanglement, hugging, squeezing, kissing, breathing each other in to a soul connection. I can feel your soul he says while we’re rolling around on the bed, sucking each other in. Mutual exchange on the same level, nothing to be said, feeling so safe, so loved, so held that I can completely let go and be free. Free of worries, free of pain. Yet my concern of destroying a connection that could have deserved a stronger foundation without spending the night together becomes a repeated reality in the same manner that it did two days ago. An identical act of repetition in intensity, closeness and frustrating disappointment for the last part. Still I am in a bubble. Still there is change, he’s calm, he’s quiet. He’s standing strong through it, no matter how hard, no matter how confrontational, he’s fighting not to let go of the affection he feels for me. This strength, this will, this dedication for trusting me, no matter how difficult and uncomfortable the truth he didn’t see before, is all I needed. Only one time I wanted someone to pull through. For me. For my sake. Sacrificing his own perspective to consider mine. I love him even more for that. I squeeze him so hard when my swing from disappointment and anger slowly fades into the appreciation I have for this special soul. I rock him, we kiss like it’s the last time and I let him know that I want nothing but happiness for him. Because this is what he did for me. 

Sitting in the taxi on the way back to the hostel I feel relief. Survival. Gratitude for him. For finally someone coming to my side for me, only for me, selfless enough for healing. He’s blinking his eyes. Cat kiss. I close my eyes softly and smile. I will kiss you a lot today. 

Walking inside the hostel the first person I meet is the kindest of the Russian squad who had called me last night to see where I am to go eat with them as they’ve promised. They didn’t - for me. Finally all reunited, all joining around me on the table telling me that they didn’t want to go without me. The absurdest of the group if this something to determine even, reassuring it with determination like there’s no question to be asked. We’re going today. And if you want coffee and chocolate pancakes, tell me I will go with you to that coffee place. The look in his eyes hard to describe or interpret. This complexity of sadness, loneliness, kindness, empathy and darkness at the same time sparkling up only a tiny bit when he’s speaking with me. Looking at me I get the feeling that for these moments life is becoming a little better for him when a shy smile is crossing his face while looking into my eyes. I will really miss you the one to my right says. I will miss them too. 

The same sincerity of my two Turkish friends, reflected also around this table. The group of absurdity and the healing dates. So many things have been said. So many times these five men have looked at me in a way that everyone should be looked at. Like you are the only thing that matters in that moment in this world. Only you. Like the deep goodbye hug that was reciprocated in such warmth. Human exchange of sincere love. The only cure we all need for our fractured hearts. Seeing and being seen. 

We all only want to be seen for who we are. We all only want to feel this magic that I am lucky enough to have found here in three days from five people at the same time, every day looking at me like the world is a better place with me in it. They made me stay, they make me feel so I could finally stop running.

Safe your tears for another day. On the way. For sure not today. Hey Lina, remember me? We were talking on Tinder I think. I look him directly in the eye. My Turkish friend next to me. No I say directly totally confused if he’s joking or serious. Second time within an hour. What are the odds? You might recognize me as that guy from bumble […] I read a couple of your blog posts. I think you always had a spiritual side but you’re exploring more that part of yourself whilst living in a beautiful/ strange/interesting country. Are these words of a stranger? They really seem more like the ones of someone who knows me. Continuing the conversation I get the feeling he may have been right about our similarities that he’s assumed in his first message, our minds functioning alike. Seems these days are never ending surprise boxes. 

The Turkish taking over. Number three, number four. A flood that was started by the similar Irish. Kickoff of the algorithm. Let’s see how many you will have tomorrow he’s says laughing. If only he knew. In the first hours of waking up five more … I may not recognize any of their faces, yet they gift me with laughter for the endless irony of life. The infinite possibilities of synchronization, of dynamics creating the most wonderful versions of life.

The morning of goodbyes. Goodbye from a wonderful place holding wonderful people. I sit in the kitchen, having my breakfast. This sweet girl who’s ignited what I like to do most, offering me the rest of her breakfast. We’re going together. Her timing is on point. I show her how to go, where to go. She’s connected to my family in the mountains and my German friend, following his trail. When she hugs me goodbye at the Marshrutka station, an innocent and grateful smile in her face, she doesn’t stop thanking me for what I did for her. I hope you can go through your process to find the balance. One that doesn’t need to hear but sees you through her heart. You have a really good energy together she comments on my goodbye from a memorable night with a memorable man. He’s so sweet, so kind, coming into the kitchen right before leaving, hugging me, kissing me. The look in his eyes a mix of sadness and gratitude. Full of love. You’re so modest he says and I’m laughing for I wish I could be that, for what he sees in me. He’s the last one I hug tightly, hoping nothing more than for him to be happy than hurt from our meeting. I will miss you. Libra balancing the twisted Gemini soul with his softness, fulfilling the statement of the first night. The man should bring the calmness so the woman can show him life with all her energy. His broken English sometimes making it hard for me to really understand what he wants to express. He’s talking about a ring. Maybe he still wants to marry me. When it’s time to go, I walk down the stairs, through the yard where the man from last night yells after me Bye Lina, have a good trip and say hi to your cousin. I’m not getting irritated. A man speaking to me as if he knew me, wanting to be recognized. I laugh and wave exiting the gate. Pushing the heavy door open to look for my friend inside I see the last one I didn’t say bye to before. He comes running, hugging me. You’re already leaving? I will miss you. Are you coming back? Really I enjoyed the time with you. He’s so sweet, hugging me again, I feel like I’ve got it all. 

Everything going as smoothly as I arrived, the timing on point again. 12pm. Three hours, on the way to the airport. Three hours until the plane shall land. My heart full of experiment experience. Slowly the awkwardly uneven buildings of Angel city are fading away behind me on the sea shore. The playground of hearts. A place to return to. For the people who’ve touched me yet a second time as today two weeks ago. Three days of dynamics intensified and multiplied, feeling like a small lifetime. One gate closes, another opens. I’m on my way to welcome her there on the other side, to embrace a new chapter. With her. Georgia is mine. Was. Is. Will be. In my heart.