Greetings from a couch potato

The Garden of Eden🇬🇧

I was not a rebellious teenager. Had my own opinions for sure, and dressed up in strange clothes.  But l was not much of a prankster. That’s why this unexpected event still remains a mystery to me…

Not far away from were I lived as a kid; in between houses and high-risers, there is a monastery. Surrounded by trees.  Green and luxuriant, like a Garden of Eden in miniature. 

The night was still bright, and I was riding my bike with Bestie. After a while we came to the monastery. How about a little peak into the garden? We parked our bikes, before we climbed over the fence.

The trees were bulging with fruits, and the smell was heavenly sweet. I couldn’t resist myself, and grabbed an apple. Let it slid down my pocket; and was about to take another one, when all of a sudden I heard a voice: “Well, hello there!” I froze, petrified over the fact that I was caught red-handed.

“Come with me!” The soft, yet firm voice belonged to an older nun. She reached out for our hands, and led us in to the monastery. We got a guided tour. The apple burned in my pocket. We drank tea together. The apple felt heavy in my pocket. She followed us out to the gate, and gave us a blessing on our way out. The apple? I put it unnoticed in the fruit bowl at home…

Greetings from a couch potato

The wedding picture 🇬🇧 

The following post is about a short, yet clarifying conversation between me and my father when I was about four years old.

I was raised by young  parents. When they got married in the middle of the sixties, my mothers wedding dress was a bit tight in the waist. 4 ½ months later, my brother was born. This was never a shameful topic. My mother explained it quite simple: «Your dad and I sweetheart-cuddled a lot, and your brother grew  in Mummy’s belly. Then, after we got married, we cuddled even more, and then you grew in my belly.

 I have always been a hypersensitive person, but as a child I felt almost like I was without a filter. Was easily hurt or teased by others. My brother took great advantage of that. (Until later, when my life got tough, he was steady as a rock). One of his favorite acts was to lead me to our parents wedding picture; point at it, and say «I’m in the picture. You’re not!» I was devastated every time.

As time went by, he rubbed it in even more: «I was looking at the whole wedding through a hole in  Mummy’s belly button.» I thought this was really unfair, and as time went by I started to imagine I could see his face in the pattern of the laces of Mummy’s wedding dress. This sibling drama went on and on, and he perfected his act. He could just nod his head in the direction of the picture, and even without a single word said, I would burst into tears in a split second.

It was after one of these incidents that my father found me crying by the wedding picture. My brother had wisely disappeared into thin air. «It’s not fair that Brother is in the picture and l am not!» I was just as angry and heartbroken, as only a four year old can be. I suppose my father realized that this was a topic that would go on and on for years, unless he put an end to the whole argument.

«Sure, you’re in the picture as well. Don’t you see it?» I stopped crying. No, I couldn’t, but he had caught my attention. He pointed at the left jacket pocket on his coat in the picture. «You were right there. In my ‘roe bag’.» Through tear dripping eyes I could see it more and more clearly. Without any need for further explanation, I just knew that a ‘roe bag’ looked just like the fabric inside his pockets. Figure that! I was there all along. In our first family portrait.

Greetings from a couch potato

Don’t you forget about me 🇬🇧

Somebody loves me.
I know. I know it because I am told so, and because I am told so through gestures. A loving nose lick from a dog. A healing hug. Text messages. A hot cup of coffee, even though I didn’t ask for it. I know.

Still, I have days with a knot in my stomach. A plethora of diseases makes me self declared second hand, the kind that sometimes has to be repaired. My body doesn’t work properly. CFS, Fibromyalgia, Migraine, Endometriosis, Eating disorders, IBS and several allergies… The list is exhausting. But it is not that what I want to talk about. It’s the “the knot”-feeling.

My energy level is reduced about  80%. The remaining 20% have to be used carefully. The couch is my best buddy and my worst enemy. I’m spending most of my time there. Most of my day I charge up energy; either I’m charging up for events to come or I recharge after events. Make some coffee, do the laundry, go grocery shopping, meet up with friends, visit my family. I schedule events, and rest to be prepared.

At times, when I have to recover; sometimes for a long period of time, I get bitten by the Couch Potato Blues. During these periods of restitution, I ask what if… What if they exclude me because I probably won’t be able to make it anyway? What if they think I just don’t bother? What if I one day have refused so many offers that they’ll stop contacting me? What if they bit by bit starts to forget me? What if…

I pay attention to my surroundings. Read or listen to the news.  Log on to Facebook. I doesn’t always have the energy to answer when the phone calls, or when people text me. But I notice when you do. I haven’t forgotten about you. Don’t you forget about me.

Greetings from a couch potato

A magical moment 🇬🇧

The following post is about my first dog. When I describe our first meeting, you’ll probably think that I project human feelings onto the animal. You know what? I really don’t care. The fact that I over read her reaction is actually the reason why I ended up with her in the first place.


For several years I suffered from social anxiety. Suffocating, paralysing anxiety that made it difficult for me to go to public places. Big crowds was unbearable. At the time I met Ella, I had barely been out of my apartment on my own for over a year. One magic moment was going to change my life forever.

I have always liked animals, but was never the kind of person that had to pet all dogs I could find. Neither did I have any plans of getting a dog. I met a woman who called her self a temporary foster parent to this dog. She was looking out for a permanent home for her. Ella had a rough start of her life. She was neglected and had been abandoned several times. The first time we met, was in a big crowd of strangers. We were both nervous, and just wanted to get out of there. Our next meeting turned out quite different. I was invited to their home. To Ella’s safe place.

When I arrived, she kept herself in the background, and wouldn’t greet me. Though, after a while she came over to me and looked at me. I became numb. Not from fear, but from recognition. I got goose bumps. She stared at me, and I stared at her. Her eyes were like mirrors to my soul. Anxiety and sadness over behaviour from cruel people. The scepticism toward others. Two broken souls met, and bonded. She laid her head in my lap, and made a satisfying sigh. I gave her a back rub and a massage. She stood up, and licked my face. Me, who couldn’t stand the saliva from dogs. Usually I wouldn’t even let a dog lick my hand… Six months later, she moved in with me. Together we became stronger, Ella and I.