Don't let a Diagnosis or Anyone else Tell You "You can't"

Do you remember my posts when they discovered I have Dyslexia? A week ago was my moment of truth as the results of my Dissertation came out and rounded off not just my Masters, but 17 years (in education) of working as hard as I could!



Toppen av Lykke

(Translated title: Peak of Happiness)

#deathanxiety #christmas #deadline #travel

This isn't really a topic I'm comfortable writing about; it's not a topic I enjoy writing about. However, I don't believe it's enough to introduce you to Death Anxiety and then close it all back up again into the emotional bottle it is.

This is my fourth day home. I've just crawled out of the reorganising of my room. I'm quite proud of what I've done; it looks like a room I would actually enjoy staying in now rather than a boxed up museum. me I still see ghosts. Ghosts of the future.

For three days I've gone through my clothes...They'll think "she used to wear this". Will they fight over the dresses? Will they remember me when they touch the fabrics? Will the dresses tell the stories of a young girl with hopes and dreams?

I've gone through my letters and my childhood drawings, writings and paintings.What people said about me..."she's nice, cute and kind"...will they read it in past tense? Will they understand who I was looking at these paintings? Will they try? Will I be remembered?

I've cleaned a room, but I don't know if I've prepared a ghost trail.

I'm not of to the war. I'm not ill. There's nothing in the world to suggest that my life is to end, besides me leaving to a dangerous continent in a couple of weeks. Yet, every minute of every day my fear whispers about death as an outcome in my ear. It's only 9 weeks, but I know if I come back from those I will be left with a feeling indescribable to me after the inner chasing I'll have gone through. I don't want pity writing this, I don't want anything from writing this; more than anything I'm disgusted with myself for writing this because I'm off to help someone in a far worse situation than me; children who live in those conditions every day and I'm scared of 9 sad weeks. Yet, this is why I write about what I do. Because fear is relevant to all of us. Fear makes us feel small, ashamed and pitiful. It tries to stop us from doing what we are passionate about; it makes us feel like our dreams are our enemy and that the dead-ends are the sanctuaries. Yet, we have to be courageous and step past it. I guess the good thing with fear is that sometimes it pushes us to do just that.

Another good thing about fear is that it makes us value everything so much more: I've sat in my grandparents living room and even the funny little Christmas Santa on TV commercials fills me with relief; there's hot cocoa in my cup and my grandfather plays the harmonica. Outside is a world I know;the hills, the air, the waters and the Norwegian tranquillity fills me with a promise of tomorrow. It's "koselig". It's my peak of happiness. Toppen av Lykke. Every moment is magnified and illuminated in my sight like the glittery Christmas star against the wintery Christmas sky in the window. Then comes a grasp and a gasp: a clutching hand around my heart; a paralysing feeling of dread and terror: will this be my last....?

Fear. Anxiety. What I'd do to be without it, yet...what a life it provides me when I move past it.

#Courage #faceyourfears #BeBold


Do You Want to Join me on a Journey?

I've moved my writing base to a new platform!

Please look at for my travel journal either you're interested in my travelling and volunteering or if you're just keen on doing the same but need more information!

Look at for my own homepage where you can find other interesting links.

I will still keep using this blog for personal stories and updates!


A Future with Death Anxiety (Follow-up)

A couple of weeks ago I wrote you a short story of how it has been for me to live a life with Death Anxiety from early childhood to adulthood. I wrote it with the elements of fantasy, which is how I do my writing, but the events, the fears and the OCDs were and are still very real.

I've chosen to share my struggles with you because my anxiety of death is a big part (although notthe only part)of why I'm doing the journey I've already embarked upon. Moreover, I also believe it is an anxiety not often discussed yet which touches many (if not their whole lives then at least at one point). First I will let you in on what the wide world web says about Death Anxiety.

Its clinical name is Thanatobia and have been studied and discussed since the time of Freud if not longer. It can be split into three types, but can also fit with more than one. Mine is mainly existential and also predatory, the latter meaning I'm scared of being harmed (which I think is natural in most humans at some levels) and the first meaning I'm afraid of ceasing to be. To me, death is nothing but the end of existence. The end of feeling, of breathing, of seeing, of hearing; the person I've fought so hard to be would no longer exist, she would no longer feel alive and even worse she wouldn't even remember who she is. She's just gone. That to me is terrifying and when the anxiety builds up and hits, the very thought of not being causes my throat to feel as if suffocated, my body to tighten, my chest to feel blocked and my heart to start its palpitations which again makes me feel dizzy and as if I'm having a heart attack. Believe me, being scared of death and thinking you got a heart attack coming on is not helping. I'm not going to be as insensitive to say it is the same, but I very much imagine living with death anxiety as similar or close to having been diagnosed with a terminal illness. I go to bed and I'm certain I might not wake up in the morning. I plan for a trip, but I make all the necessary arrangements if I would die before or after. For me, death isn't something I never think about and that might just suddenly come. For me I consider it a privilege if I get to live out the month, the year, or to grow older; fall in love to a wonderful man and have children that I can adore from the kitchen window while I make sure they're safe playing outside. For some, those things, those days or those moments might just be something that happens if it happens. For me, it's a pipe dream because my anxiety tells me whenever it gets through to me that I might not live that long - and if I die I'm simply gone.

(press the picture for a larger image. The test is just a random test on internet, but I think it paints a picture of the scale of my anxiety. )

There's two methods used to treat death anxiety, a cognitive approach and an existential one. I can't tell you when my mind started applying the existential approach, but I believe it was around the time when my parents died. Each of them chose to end their lives because it had become too hard and depression took over. My one lesson from that was to never let life and depression take me down like that. I needed to enjoy life to the fullest, never let anything crush my hopes that things will get betterand learn to be independent so that at the very least I could trust myself and live with my own company. I stopped being scared and listening to my OCD's like a slave. I started fighting the anxiety, kept myself distracted with life (the cognitive approach) and made plans that required me to be alive for years. I recognise the purpose of these attitudes now, but in the past and present it's just been my mind responding to my intuition.

Today I've achieved my dreams about being independent, finding myself, studying internationally and living abroad. I've embarked upon a journey that is not just philanthropic, but also a challenge to my fear of death. The ultimate destination for my test will be the backpacking through negatively addressed countries and volunteering in the Favelas of Brazil. If you think I'm heading in that direction with ease you're wrong. I sometimes cry by the mere thought. I've been close to cancelling the trip a dozen times (before I took the last step and made the non-refundable purchases). I don't feel brave admitting to that, yet, there is something people misunderstand by courage. People think bravery is simply something you have by not being afraid. However, bravery is precisely countering your fears:

"When we have been afraid that we may panic in an air-raid, and, when it has happened, we have exhibited to others nothing but a calm exterior and we are now safe, the contrast between the previous apprehension and the present relief and feeling of security promotes a self-confidence that is the very father and mother of courage" - David and Goliath, M. Gladwell.

What Gladwell talks about in this particular chapter where this quote is taken from, is that when faced with the objects of their fears (which most of the time is the fear itself) and by overcoming that object (by a remote miss) people often find that they gain a feeling of exhilaration and of being invincible. They gain courage because the feeling of immortality counter the fear of a terminal end. This is the opposite of people who become overwhelmed by their fears and disabilities and give in to the anxiety which sometimes lead people astray.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not going to Brazil to seek danger. I will definitely NOT be running out in the street if I hear a gunfire. But I need to know that I won't let my fear stop me from living. From travelling. From being able to help others in developing countries without being terrified that I won't be returning home to my own. I need to learn that iffaced with a situation where I feel fear that I can handle it and not succumb to it; I needthe knowledge that I can survive. When I've done this - and I will overcome it - I can tell my anxiety to shut up and stillhave mycourage and all other traits without them being a clinical response to a disability. Sure, my personal traits make my disadvantages my advantages, but they are also more than that. They're who I am with or without an anxiety and its time I claim myself back.


A Life with Death Anxiety

Empty blackness. It's coldness without the shivers. A sensation without the possibility to touch and feel. There's a trail of thought which never gets heard. Erased. Gone. Extinct.

The child gasped as she submerged from her covers, drenched in sweat and blood pulsating through her veins from the struggle for air. 'Are you here?' Chrissy called, clutching her cuddle pillow to her chest, 'I felt you. I knowyou.'
'I'm here,' a voice came from the dark.
'I don't want you here,' Chrissy's voice shivered and her eyes darted from one corner to the other at the sound of a shifting cloak.
'But I will always be here,' the voice wheezed beneath his breath, 'I can come after you, in the shape of a vampire, the boogey-man, a masked maniac...'
'That's just TV! I'll turn it off!'
'Oh, but I can still reach you. When you walk in the street. If you get sick. In a car -'
'Well, I'll never leave my room then!'
'- but I'm already here. I can visit you in your sleep...and you'll never wake up again.'
'No-!' Little Chrissy dived back under her covers, blocking evil with the comfort of her blanket and the protective love of her pillow.


'- no, no!' Chrissy gasped for air, kicked the duvet off and felt a sting of guilt as her Leopard teddy landed on the floor with a 'thump'. 'I'm sorry, Cleo...' Chrissy climbed down the bunk bed ladder in one-two; a few extra years had made her legs grow longer. She hardly needed the ladder. 'It's just safer on top,' Chrissy looked up at the top bed, then down at the bottom. A forest worth of stuffed animals were lined up and each and everyone had their tags still on.
'Chrissy, time to get up, we're going into town today!'
'Okay, Mama,' Chrissy looked after the wave of dark hair turning in the door-way and listened for the footsteps leaving a ghost trail of echoes as they faded away. The day had to go on, normal things had to be done.

'I can reach you here too, you know,' the familiar voice said. Chrissy looked up to her left, clutching her mother's hand to her right. A dark cloaked figure. A familiar silhouette. His voice mesmerized her. When he spoke, she couldn't help but obey. 'Maybe one day, you'll walk across-' he beckoned to the pedestrian crossings, 'and a car will hit you. I would make you stop breathing, just like that.'
Chrissy's gaze shifted and lingered at the crossing. The walking man went from red to green. A second of thought. Her mother started moving. Her hand was tugged. She quickly drew her breath and filled up her cheeks with air. She crossed over. No car hit her. She looked back.
'Why did you do that?' Death asked.
'You can't make me stop if I'm not already breathing.'

They returned home with a new friend; a new stuffed animal. First it was introduced to Cleo and then Chrissy found the scissor to take off the tag. The sharp blades were barely ready to hug the tag string when he spoke again.
'You know what will happen.'
She hesitated.
'You cut that, and someone will pass away.'
Chrissy's hand trembled. The scissor blade nudged the tag. 'Like your mother...Your father...your sister? Or...your grandmother?' her hand collapsed, the scissor fell to the floor. Cleo sat in Chrissy's lap, looking up at her new friend who remained earmarked. 'Hey, that makes a nice accessory!' The voice hid a laugh and drifted away. Chrissy placed her new stuffed animals with the others, grabbed her precious Cleo and climbed back to the top bed. The cover rolled over her head, the leopard guarded the entrance above her head, and air thinned like the feeble light from her room.


The years passed. Many pedestrian crossings were crossed with a held breath. The days seemed easier with age, although the nights never changed. Nightmares came in all shapes and forms, but he was the worst one. Something woke her up. She felt him near. She felt him when she walked onto the landing. Her grandfather passed her as if he didn't see them. Crying. Her Grandmother, wailing. She walked down. They didn't know what to say. Death put his hands on her shoulders. Weighted them down. Filled her with the spirits of ghosts.
'Your father, my dear, is dead.' Her grandparents said. She felt his cold gust of triumph. The ghosts wailed through her veins, but in her heart they lit a fire. A heat Death could not take. A blazing love he did not know. Death let go, his triumph was blown out. He disappeared and her world grew cold.


She spent years looking over her shoulder. He avoided her, but he left traces on her path. They lost more family members. Tears. Palms crunched into fists. Hearts hardened. She would go about her day. Her life. He would breath down her neck. She climbed a climbing wall once and heard with every step she took 'Your brother? Your mother? Yourself? Who's turn is it?'
She grabbed the highest hold and replied beneath her breath 'I will fight you independent of what comes next.'
Teddies' tags were almost all gone, not by her hand, but by someone else's.


Wast amount of time flies and then it seems so short. She was walking to towards her home when she saw him on the porch. His hands waved triumphantly. Her friend spoke indistinctly. Inside stood her grandmother waiting with tears running down her cheek.
'Chrissy, your mother-'
I know 'She is dead.'


'You think you've won, but I'll show you instead. You'll never get me, my soul, heart or head. If you think I'm going to cry, wither away, then think again because I'm going to live my life fully to the end.'


'Years have passed, I need you here; Mum, dad, why did you leave me?! I need you.' She closed her tearful eyes and listened for responses. A blazing hot memory of darkness and despair, of none existing feelings or breath of air. The thought of his world put hands to her neck; they tightened and strangled, but once she tried to remove them she caught her own hair instead. Her body shivered with despair. Her legs kicked in muffled protests. Her heart jumped down her arm like a rocket. She closed her eyes and let the tears run in silence.


Her eyes opened, the tears dried against a tightening scarf. He stood in front of her. 'What are you doing?'
'Everyone leaves. No one stays...I'm alone, I got no one!'
'I thought you made me a promise? To live life to the fullest? What battle is this, if you give up now? Are you not going to see all the things you planned to see?'
Chrissy let go of the scarf - of the loneliness, the invisibility, the abandonment - and got caught by a friend. She let the love come back to her again and chase the clouds from her sight.
'I won't ever give up, I got my friends.'


But new friends lied and stabbed her back, R.I.P. to the trust she had in her heart. She sat on the floor. An end in every direction, from the window to the kitchen. He put his cloak around her for protection.
'Are you giving up? Are you coming with me to be reunited?'
She picked up the phone and looked at him coldly, dialled a number of hope and life reflection. 'I'll never be like them; I'll be strong. Even on my own, I'll fight for my soul.'


Years passed and Chrissy turned into a young adult. Dreams built and dreams achieved. Sometimes she checks the oven once-twice-thrice so the house won't burn. Sometimes she checks the door once-twice-thriceso a murderer won't come. Lonely nights can be filled with whispers of all those independent things that wither; Alone, alone, what if she wasn't found. What if time ran out before she accomplished her goal. Her heart will skip beats; her arm will pulsate; her throat fills with a despair she can't utter. Then daylight comes and she knows she'll be fine. Looking at the world with death at her side. 'One day, I'm going out there.'
'On your own? Among murderers, rapists and human trafficking?'
'I'll make a change and bring down your chaos. I'll prove to the world that you don't matter.'
'Oh, but I do, I got you this far.'
A soft smile on her lips. 'Alright, I'll put a flower on your grave when you're the last enemy I've defeated*'

To this day, this remains true:

Death was her companion and her enemy,
from him she could never be entirely free.
How do I know?

Because Chrissy she is me**.

*Speech referencing to Lily and James' Potters tombstone in Harry Potter/ biblical reference. Interpret as (sacrificial) love being the strongest means against death because everything done in the name of love and compassion is remembered and so death will die in the shadow of a mere memory.

**Article to follow.


I Packed My Bag with One Toy

The title is a reference from Kevin Hart's Seriousy Funny showand the particular sequencereminded me of 6(ish) year old little me storming out of my mamas apartment. My little bag in one hand and my special pillow in the other. This happened quite often. I was done living at home and thought I'd be better off on my own out in the wide world. Me and my pillow. The only thing I loved and which never failed to love me back. The longest I got was to the playground. The shortest I got was outside the front door after accidentally dropping my pillow in a puddle. I remember standing next to it crying. I couldn't go anywhere without my friend, but I was too stubborn to go back inside as well.

She was born to become an angel. I was born to become a humanitarian.

Over one and a half decade later and I'm standing at this crossroad again. I'm packing my bags; packing down my flat; packing down my life in the UK (for now). In a month's time I will be heading off to Thailand to volunteer at an orphanage. It's the beginning of a longer (unknown) period of time volunteering around the world, but this particular placement is done to honour the 10th year memory marking of my mama's passing, to give something back to a country running through my blood and to be a support to children in the situation I could have been in if my grandmother had not taken action in the last minute. It's not only my dream, but also a mission and a duty I have to my conscience, my heart, and something larger than (my) life out there; it's driven by the knowledge of who I could have been and who I'm meant to be because of what happened to me.

I introduced you to the relationship between me, my mama and this mission before and in the same article I said I would be fighting my own anxiety going on this trip. I'll elaborate on this in the next couple articles (even though that'll be just as hard as actually going through with these plans). I'm anxious, but I'm also hesitant for other reasons. I'm at the crossroad. I'm at that stand where I don't want to leave my pillow behind in the puddle; where I don't want to leave behind important people in my life and the life I've built for myself.

I love unconditionally, dream unlimited and keep resilient faith like a child, but I'm not six any more...

My world is not restricted to the playground...

And any door to a home with my mama waiting closed a decade ago.

I gotta do this; I'm packing my bag.


Oh, You Know So Much About Suicide, Do You? Please Do Tell....

#RIPRobinWilliams #Depression #Suicide #Opinions

I don't think a single person has missed out on the sad news.

Most of us have a common thought, R.I.P. Robin Williams...... Besides Jumanji scaring the fooshizzle out of me as a kid and that the trailer of Mrs Doubtfire for some bizarre reason reminded me of my Nan, I got very little else to say. However there seems to be a lot of people who has.

It's the same old debate really.

Suicide is selfish.

Depression is for weaklings.

I wasn't going to say anything, but I also get easily provoked. Ish.

My parents were depressed and both of them took their own life as a result of it. You probably expect a inserted sob story to follow, but this isn't the time for me to tell it and some of you are certainly not ready to hear it. That being said, I agree suicide is self-revolved. I agree depression can make people seem weak. However, suicide is not selfish and depression is not for weaklings. People fighting depression is some of the most mentally strong people you'll ever encounter; they'll fight a battle you'll never hear about because they're fighting it all on their own. Some win this battle. Some loses it. Not every soldier return from a war, but that doesn't mean they didn't fight as hard as everyone else. If the soldier couldn't return home to his/her beloved ones, it wasn't because he/she didn't want to. Something prevented them. That something for someone with depression is the mental illness itself.

//Source: Facebook

When I found out that my father had taken his own life I told my driving teacher. He had been an old friend of his. He became quiet and lowered his eyes. I hope he is OK with me repeating his story now.

He told me of his last meeting with my dad. He was struggling in his marriage and was venting to my dad. My dad told him "You still got a chance to make things OK. I don't. All I can do is make sure my children is going to be OK."

Many years ago, my classmates were discussing what they would do if they became paralysed and ended up in a wheel-chair. One of them, sitting right opposite me without knowing my past, said "If I ever got in a wheel-chair, I'd shoot myself".

I thought to myself, "Yup, my dad did that".......(That's pretty much the same reaction I had today to be honest, I read the news, put it out of my mind and went to the gym and beat my PB in deadlifting - I'll tell you all about that when it's appropriate).


I didn't judge the person or think negatively of that person for saying what the person said. Humans have different attitudes to problems, life and the whole ride of ups and downs. That person is still one of the nicest, funniest and most genuine people I know of. The person simple said something because it was easy to say it without thinking - like I'll still say "If that doesn't go well, I'll hang myself" for jokes (It's an incredible shitty and shameful joke in hindsight, I know. I mentally beat myself up for that at times as this was how depression made my mum end her life).

However, there is one thing tossing something out when you don't think about it. Another is to moan about something serious when you don't know anything about it. And believe me, most of the people who do don't know a thing. I believe if they did know anything they often wouldn't say anything (I realise the irony of me speaking up now, I refer back to me being easily provoked), they would be too busy donating, volunteering or doing something to help.

Print screen image used with permission

The people left behind often has a reason to think of their beloved as selfish for what they did. But I hope most people will agree with me that doing so would be just as selfish of us. By the end of the day, our angels in heaven fought a fight and lost it. There is unfortunately many people who welcomes death when they're incurable ill from diseases and the likes. No one judge them when death comes as a mercy. No one should judge the suicidal either. Death is the same for them. A release. From an unbearable pain. I'll never understand it,because I see death as the final enemy to be destroyed. Yet, I accepted that it was like that for my parents. We can think badly about it, we can dislike it and have an opinion about it, but by the end of the day our only right is to do something to prevent it. Calling people who has past away for selfish or being a moaning key-board warrior isn't going to do that and it is more hypocritical than anything else so don't waste your energy on it.

Do yourself, the affected and the deceased person a favour and...

...go and hug your mum, dad, sister, brother, grannies, girlfriend, boyfriend and friends up on depression

...find out how you can help

...let the deceased rest in peace as a respect to his/her memory.


The Things I'm not Supposed to Say, but I will Anyway

#War #Violence #Stop #Hope #Faith #Prayers #Life #WeAreOne

As the title says, I know I'm probably not supposed to write this. Post this. Say this. I'm just a young person, I don't really understand everything that is going on..but I can feel it.

I'm sat, trying to write my dissertation while it's sunny and warm outside. People are living the good life and I'm feeling caged. That's supposed to be my biggest problem right now, but it's not even a problem. I'm lucky to be safe at the moment. I'm lucky that I'm not hiding under an object; looking at my family's faces as if it would be the last time I saw them. That I'm not shivering because the ground is shaking; gasping for air because soon I might not breathe again. Ever. If I want, I can run out of this apartment. Feel the wind against my face or the dirt between my toes. If I go home, I might hear my siblings laugh - not the screams of my dying neighbours.

I'm writing a dissertation on how corporations with power can help turn societies around for the greater good. That power has a responsibility. Yet, I can't find my words because somewhere out there, someone is misusing power. Always. For religious reasons. Political reasons. MoneyMonkeyBusiness. Whoever knows, to me its not reasons good enough when children, mothers and fathers are left in pieces. I can't wrap my head around why it would be excusable and I don't understand how others can.

Issue nr. 1

I see so much criticism online. People that live in their safe bubble, their safe world and complain. Not on their problems, but that they're being made aware of others problems. That they are being made aware of the number of children dying. The wounds the survivors gain. The descriptions of the pain that comes with.

People like that should be ashamed of themselves. At least you're alive. At least you're healthy. At least, you can pick up the phone and hear your beloved's voice.

I'm so proud of social media for finally being used to open people's eyes. I'm so sick of Justin Bieber or other insignificant, irrelevant, load of -----. There are people out there, who live in terror and fear every day. Who have problems others couldn't even dream of. You think it doesn't concern you? Believe me it does. I'm reading news everyday; terrified my wealthy, beautiful and safe fatherland is going to be hit by terror like they've been threatened. If it does, it's not going to be a film. It's not going to be on the screen. It's going to be reality - and it can happen anywhere. Don't turn a blind eye. Don't shrug it off. To be scared is OK, but killing the messenger doesn't stop the source - you need toattemptto help.

Issue nr. 2

If you want others to support your religion or politics, make sure whoever is your leader doesn't lead by murdering, terror and spreading fear. Before that, your argument is invalid.

How people can attack the people protesting for the victims to be saved from harm in the conflicts currently going on It seems people are so eager to make up an opinion on something they barely understand and then they cheer for a side like hooligans on a football match.

I can honestly say I don't support a side. I leave that to the more knowledgeable about the situations (and if you've only got your information from media in your own country then I suggest you do the same). But life and death is pretty black and white to me. As soon as you use innocent lives for collateral damage you've already lost your rights to triumph, respect or anything you may have been fighting for.

There once was a king who had to decide which of two women an infant belonged to. He suggested they'd split the child in two. One woman agreed, the other said the other woman could take the child. The king judged the latter as the mother. Why? Because she would rather see it alive than having the rights over it.

Before you eager interpreters go at it, I'm not suggesting that the countries, people - any battling sides - should give up their rights for freedom, the rights of their people, etc. on the sole purpose of survival (I'm actually a big supporter for defending your life), but I do mean that it is time for humans to put religion and politics aside for a moment and realise what you are and what you are here for: you're a human being. Humane. Blessed with intelligence and empathy. Use it. Make sure you support those who uses it.

#Money. #Materialism. #Power. #Control. #Revenge. All of that is so irrelevant it makes me want to throw a fit and cry. The only right you have is #Freedom, #Love and #ToBeAlive. Whether you're a country ruler or the poorest man in the world, you have no right to take that from anyone.


I'm a Survivor, for my Mama; for the Woman who Created a Soldier

Over the past couple years I've written one article after the other in memory of my father. In 2011 it was ten years since he passed away. It was also the first year it got to me. The first year I struggled with the loss of him and 2012 became the year I had an accident and were two guardian angels away from ending up in a wheelchair, or worse, like him. 2013 I was stronger and in 2014 I'm bulletproof. How do I know? Yesterday was ten years since I fully became an orphan and it was as if the day never happened.

Staring at the bottom of your glass
hoping one day you'll make a dream last
But dreams come slow, and they go so fast

I don't often write about my mum. Very few knows why. I want to, but I'm also not ready to reveal all the reasons. The memories I have of my mum are similar to those of children with alcoholic parents. Of parents that do things parents shouldn't do and behave in a manner inconsistent with their nature. As mentioned once before, my mum struggled with a severe manic depression. She had episodes where she was delusional and hallucinated which could make her take on a violent behaviour. She didn't know who she was, who people around her were and they said she wasn't even supposed to remember what she'd have done during the episodes.

You see her when you close your eyes
Maybe one day you'll understand why
Everything you touch surely dies.

Yet, she did remember when she came to. I had to be the ten/eleven year old looking into my mum's eyes as she cried for forgiveness. My own sweet mama who wanted nothing but good things for me and who loved me, her little angel, so much she couldn't even block out the worst things she had ever done in her life.

It was nothing to forgive, I never saw it as her fault. I knew, already at that age that her mental illness was beyond anything she could control. It sucked her life away and on the 25th of May 2004 it ended it as well. At this point I expected it to happen. Not only was death a big part of my life at this stage, but my mum's mental illness had taken so much from us, split us up as a family and forced her out of the country away from the two most precious things in her life: me and my sister. This is why I care so much about the causes of mental illness, why it's second of my priorities after supporting orphans and struggling children. Every human being should have the right to have their life and live it to the fullest. I'll be writing a lot more on this topic in the future, but for now: my mama was a brave and loving woman with so much empathy and conscience that she just couldn't bear it.

Let it go, let it go
You only need the light when it's burning low
Let it go, let it go
You only miss the sun when it starts to snow

People have been scared that I'm going to be depressed like my mama. Yet, they don't know how much my mind fight the very idea of it. How much it amplifies living life to the fullest, making a difference, saving lives, be a light for others like I needed others to be. I've almost finished my degree now and started planning my world trip abroad where I'll be volunteering for orphans and really doing something meaningful in respect to what I went through in my childhood. Not stressing over a career, not buying meaningless material things, but fighting my own anxieties and appreciating every valuable moment and people I'll meet in new cultures. I'll be living my dream, for me, my mum and my dad across continents of the world. I'll be raising that flag of freedom; freedom to be alive and to control my own destiny. I'll go back to the fairytales and the child in me, climbing rocks and mountains, seeking adventure and fulfilling my dreams.

Here I stand
and here I'll stay

And I couldn't do any of it without my parents. My parents who gave me life and left me knowing I'd be safe and free to live life for them. We didn't get to be the family we were meant to be, but hopefully I'll always have them with me. Sometimes you have to paint the pain to see the beauty in it. Sometimes you have to struggle in life to value it.

You only know you love her when you let her go

*Lyrics pieces from Sam Tsui's mashup of Frozen - Let it Go/ Passenger - Let her go


Response to the Criticism of my Dyslexia Article

Thursday night I posted this article were I opened up about how it was for me to be diagnosed with Dyslexia after 17 years of tough education.

Thanks to Facebook being how it is, it didn't take long before (what felt like) an attacking response surfaced on my news feed:

The main paragraph I recognized and felt unjustly criticised would be this one:

"I could write that I'm sitting on a window frame, in a dark room, feeling sorry for myself and letting the tears run freely...But I'm not. I got my result and went to the gym. Tomorrow I will hand in yet another assignment. Do I wish this had been discovered earlier? You bet. On the other hand, I've been getting to know myself and gotten used to working hard for what I want to achieve. I still don't know what I feel about having "Dyslexia". At one stage I hated the idea of it. Of being told I can't improve due to something that can't be changed. A defect. I almost felt broken. Yet, then again, if something is broken you fix it. My struggles have never been my excuses before. The lack of a stable childhood and being an orphan haven't made me become depressed and dark. Having grown up with strong anxieties and a couple OCD traits haven't stopped me from living my life. I've had balls of problems chucked at me my whole life and I've knocked them right back again. Whichever label I'm given, 'Indestructible' is the one I'm claiming".

I was considering responding to the person in a private message, but since the person could not do me the same favour, I felt like I owed you, my readers, more. Therefore I am giving you the same explanation as I would have given to that person.

If you believe my article was in any way listing Dyslexia as an defect, as a flaw in a human being or anything equivalent, then I'm sorry but you have misunderstood the plot. The lines

"At one stage I hated the idea of it. Of being told I can't improve due to something that can't be changed. A defect. I almost felt broken."

is merely stating how I for a slight moment experienced being labelled Dyslexia - because that is indeed how a lot of the world wrongly mistake Dyslexia to work and I was scared of people looking at me differently. However, the overall paragraph is meant to illustrate, when looking away from the diagnosis and looking at myself and what I have achieved in my life, that it was unnecessary to be scared of that. In fact, my entire article is dedicated to highlighting that I managed to work my way up from D's to B's, and to remain on a B level, learn foreign languages, etc., despite having Dyslexia. The following sentence "Yet, then again, if something is broken you fix it" is thus just a way of saying that you can improve with Dyslexia. In mycase, I struggle to improve. But that's not saying I'm not trying, have or will again manage to. I just need the support, but that is also mysituation.The article was even finishing saying that I will keep living a normal life working for what I dream for - with the diagnosis just as I did without it.

I would never claim to know all the facts about Dyslexia; I only just got diagnosed. Yet, no one else can tell me how Ihave experienced living with it and being diagnosed with it either. To the writer of the Facebook post, we both are working towards the same thing: to inspire those diagnosed to know there is a way around it and that one can work through it and to live their lives like anyone else. I'm sorry if my article made your cup full and you felt the need to openly single-out a newly diagnosed person who only wanted to share some of the darkness she's been carrying lately. I'm not sorry, however, that I will continue sharing my experiences, my ambitionsand my personal opinions on this blog with the hope that it can reach someone struggling with the same as me so that they too can see the same light as me.


When the Education System needs to be Educated

I could write that I'm sitting on a window frame, in a dark room, feeling sorry for myself and letting the tears run freely...

I'm an international student doing my final semester in my MA. I speak two languages and understand four in total. Since 10th grade I've been a consistent 5 (B) student, or a 2:1 student if you prefer. It hasn't been as easy as I made it sound...

I can remember struggling with education as far back as the 4th grade. Particularly with maths. I have also always suffered with a great anxiety for failure or embarrassing myself. When there were something I didn't understand back in Primary school, the teachers would come over and explain. I would look at them, hearing them, but I wasn't able to listen. They could just as well have been speaking Greek to me.

'Do you understand, Christina?'

No, I didn't. They would get frustrated with me and I would feel stupid. The anxiety would build up in my throat. They would start talking louder and I would protest louder that I didn't understand. My classmates would start to notice. Eyes. All on me. Embarrassed. Humiliated. The tears would come and I wouldn't be able to breathe because of the lump in my throat. I would want to lash out, run away and hide. Escape. Yet, I would be caged on a chair, blocked by a tutor who would be on the edge of giving up on me and a paper that required my effort. Just do it, Christina, come on. They'd give up on me. I was being difficult. They'd walk away and I would sob in my seat while everyone whispered and sent looks.

It didn't end at school. After school-hours it was time for homework (something I like to call a short terminology for a school's excuse to do less teaching and take the spare time away from children to be children). Did you care much for homework at this age? I would be too embarrassed to turn up having missed an assignment. So I did my homework. Starting after dinner with my Granddad helping me: I wouldn't understand it on my own. It would go okay to begin with, until the tasks would become more complicated. What I once understood I didn't understand any more.

'You just did it! Why don't you understand it, Christina?!'

I couldn't. Frustration. Increased voices. Burning anxiety and tears. These evenings usually ended with me crying either in my room or alone by the table. In silence. Until a banging headache would arrive. Then my granddad would come back to me, his voice calm and kind. We would try have another look at the complicated homework, and right before bedtime I would get it right. "New day at school tomorrow".

Yikes, talk about your #ThrowbackThursday

Have you ever struggled with a subject at school?

If you have, you may have found like me that you don't manage to improve before a decent teacher takes the time to explain things to you. To really teach you the wheels behind it all so you can actually comprehend it. The very first maths tutor taking his time to do this with me was my tutor in my 8th grade. He helped me build my grades up from 3 (D) to a solid 5 (B) over the span of three years.
Luckily, I had a maths tutor in High School from my secondary school who agreed to uphold the same support. It was worse with my reading. In order to revise for a test I had to reread the text several times, take lengthy notes which I then learned by heart. During the tests I would visualise the sentences and copy them into my answers. A couple days later and I'd forgotten what I had rehearsed.
I did, however, graduate High School with a 6 (A) in maths and a solid 5 (B) in most subjects due to help of specific teachers. These teachers helped me 100% more than those who told me 'you're not going to be able to improve' or those who based their teaching techniques on beingauthoritativerather than qualified.It also helped to be studying practical fields and taking part in physical activity - the latter helped keep my anxiety at bay.

How did I do in University then?

Do you want me to be perfectly honest? Analysing old English books is like describing the obvious - even if the obvious is invented out of a Moomin's hat.

Which leads me to the Creative Writing part of my BA Hons. Creative Writing was always my number one passion; in similarity with reading fiction it was never something I struggled with. I could be creative, get drunk and wing it. My creativity was always a part of my intuition. I hardly improved towards a first instead of a 2:1, however. What's a shame with University is that feedback is given in shape of a couple notes saying what you did wrong instead of a teacher sitting down with you and highlighting how you need to do it right.Despite this, I didn't have any fits of performance anxiety during my undergrad as I put myself in a carefree state of mind and only focused on sports. I did three different types of sports while doing my undergrad: my anxiety was practically extinct.

...But then it came back...

My first semester of my MA was the hardest thing I've done since 8th grade: I hadn't rehearsed reading facts and dealing with theory for many years; it became a harder struggle than I could've expected. I spent most nights awake; reading things I wouldn't remember the next morning. I would feel in constant competition and like a lousy no-good student in comparison with the other super smart people in my class. No matter how hard I worked, I just couldn't do well enough. My anxiety came back. More reading. More frustration. Letting teachers down. Letting my student groups down. But I did the best I could!
I locked myself up doing coursework and didn't dare to lose time on physical activity; I grew ill twice over the semester. On the final week, after spending two weeks with no sleep and doing four assignments, one of my class mate recently said that watching me in a lecture was like watching a non-blinking zombie unaware of anything around her. I gained a high fever after that lecture he spoke off and it did not disappear until my final assignment was handed in. I pushed through it, but I was dying on the inside.

This semester I told the Head of the Course of my struggles.

He was the first ever who, despite my good grades, referred me to the student support centre to be tested for #Dyslexia. I cried during the whole first test, anxious for how to respond. If I answered wrong, would the test say something was wrong with me? If I answered right, would it say I was perfectly normal without providing me any study support?

The first test showed Dyslexia tendencies so they recommended me to take the second test. The second testshowed clear indications of compensated Dyslexia. Meaning I have grown up with Dyslexia (obviously without knowing it), but tackled coursework and education by building on my strong sides. I went back to my university building and cried in the girls' toilets. Not because I now had a learning disability, but, because after 17 years of tough education, I finally had something telling me I wasn't slow because I can't do as much reading as the others in the same space of time; stupid because I can't figure out how to improve when teachers tell me I'm doing something wrong; or lazy because I always choose the easy way (my strong sides) to do my coursework.

Did you know these famous people had/have Dyslexia?

Do yousympathisewith any of these? I certainly do!

Today I had my final test, a formal psychology test. She could confirm it already at the end that I clearly have Dyslexia in the area of memory, reading and maths. I don't know how it works: I've read the Harry Potter and Narnia book series in both Norwegian and English several times, but can't even remember a page in a book of theory and facts. All I know is that this might finally be an explanation to why I struggle to follow daily conversations. It upsets me that people think I'm rude and uninterested, when really I just struggle to follow their trail of thought as I get lost in my own. I also know I will be able to pick up the report the days before my last ever assignments is due. What a timing ey...So what will the formal report do for me then?

At the very least it will help me get support for my dissertation over the summer. What will it not be for me? An excuse.

I could write that I'm sitting on a window frame, in a dark room, feeling sorry for myself and letting the tears run freely...But I'm not. I got my result and went to the gym. Tomorrow I will hand in yet another assignment. Do I wish this had been discovered earlier? You bet. On the other hand, I've been getting to know myself and gotten used to working hard for what I want to achieve. I still don't know what I feel about having "Dyslexia". At one stage I hated the idea of it. Of being told I can't improve due to something that can't be changed. A defect. I almost felt broken. Yet, then again, if something is broken you fix it. My struggles have never been my excuses before. The lack of a stable childhood and being an orphan haven't made me become depressed and dark. Having grown up with strong anxieties and a couple OCD traits haven't stopped me from living my life. I've had balls of problems chucked at me my whole life and I've knocked them right back again. Whichever label I'm given, 'Indestructible' is the one I'm claiming.

"If you want to go to the UK and study writing then that's what you will do" - Quote from my favourite High School teacher Steinar.

Last thing I asked the educational psychologist before I left was if I could still become a writer. I knew the answer before she even replied: there's no reason why not.

//image taken from google

By the end of the day,
what you make out of what you got is up to yourself.


Misery Loves Company, Yes?

#Health #Fitness #Motivation #KeepGoing

Right guys!

How many of you have started your #BikiniBody training in the gym? How many is preparing to show some muscles once we can shred out of our winter layers? How many have given up already?

In the 'Getting Shredded' entry I mentioned there had been struggles during my 11 weeks of health-transformation. As #motivationfailure usually comes before the results, I decided it would be essential for me to flag up this issue for you before going on about my training process. All my following statements will be based on my own humble experience.

A good way to set yourself targets is to measure your process regularly. Do you setyourself a goal?I attempt to document my progress every four weeks. At one point during each of these segments, I have found I'll have one week where I feel like an absolute failure. My training motivation is low, the results seems like they' have gone backwards and no matter how much I train there's always something wrong with my techniques. Does anyone recognise themselves?

The danger at this point is that you may stop your workout entirely. The most important thing to know is that everything gets better if you push through it. Without failure, the following week after is when I notice the most change on my body, when my motivation gains a boost and the intensity level on my workout heightens. But what can help you push through? Even the fitness Gods knows it is far more tempting to huddle up in the sofa with a pizza (or two) and crying over a bowl of chocolate after.

Here are some personal favourite techniques which should help you to keep going:

  • Share your workout experience with others. Either face to face or publicly. The great thing with fitness being increasingly popular is that many will either have the expertise or experience with what you're going through. A friend can be perfectly understanding, like my friend Stefanie who is doing great progress with her weightloss program;a gym-partner can help you keep track; and a personal trainer is the best of both worlds and can be the perfect motivational speaker. Only make sure you do some research and choose a personal trainer that will fit you.Will heteachyou fitness, or justtellyou about it? Does he know your strength and weaknesses with regards to exercise, or does he know you as just another client? How competent is he to help you even if there are challenges?For example, due to geography, my personal trainer is training me online. This means there have to be compensation in conversation when he's not going to be able to help me in the gym, yet @AlexMurrayPT has made me feel secure in my choice of PT.

"Hey, we all have down days where you feel like nothing is going to plan [...] By doing the workout at all, you are achieving what you are meant to each day! The intensity at which you work is what depends how successful each day is : ) [...] If something starts to wind you up or make you stressed, leave it and move onto something different. The Stress hormone actually prevents muscle growth, so in a funny way, you need to be relaxed to get the best result! - I know you can do it :) you're such a strong person psychologically, and I know how much you want to get the results, so a few bad days isn't going to get you down." -@AlexMurrayPT, a response which triggered a turn over in my motivation when I was feeling proper low and ready to loose faith in any progress.

Okay, that was a lot to take in in one go before shake-time! Let's take a motivation break with the Gosling:

Do you have one of these in your gym?

Let's not let the Gosling down, time to crack on with the motivational techniques!

  • Learn your techniques properly before starting a program. The most triggering thing to my #motivationfailure is when I've done a program for a couple weeks and the gym PTs point out some flaws with my techniques. After correction I can usually feel my muscles working three times as hard as before the correction, which always chucks me into a downward spiral thinking the past weeks have been a waste.
  • Don't be afraid to ask. Hopefully, the PTs at your gym should be competent to help when you're stuck in your program. Ask them for help to ensure you do the bullet-point above.
  • Log your exercises. Not only to see how you improve, but also to build a bad consciousness which can whip your bum if you start telling yourself you can skip one workout after the other. The log will know. The log will judge you (did you just read that in a creepy fiction voice?).
  • Cheat days are allowed. Even cheat hours is allowed. Don't feel like a failure, but make judgements based on the knowledge of your own body and make up for it with increased intensity.
  • Protein shakes and meal replacements. A subject widely discussed, again I recommend asking your friends with expertise or your PT about which product(s) they would recommend. I am recommended to eat natural sources of protein, but as I struggle to fill up my amount of calories a day with salads (yuck) I find protein mixes helpful. At the time being I use Bella Diet Whey from Icon nutrition and mix it with cereal or other foods I'm making. I'm not a fan of milkshakes and I do struggle drinking it straight.

Do you have any tips you would like to add?

What proof do I have that it is worth it to keep going?

A couple weeks ago I felt bloated, terrible and basically further down under than Australia. I had sugar. I had days off. I worked with low intensity. Yet, I pushed through it and last week I felt #shredded.

After Week11 progress picture. How's your progress going?

Stay tuned for more tips and updates from my
workout program designed to me by Prolimit Fitness!


Unspoken Love is still Love

Just a quick entry to leave you all with a smile on your lips and sweet thoughts for the night.

My family has never been a family to express love or admiration. I don't think any of us really do. When I was around ten, I peeked over at my granddad watching the telly (I don't know how many times I've told this story as an example) and felt an urge to tell him I loved him. So I told him...

He scoffed

I never said that to him ever again, as you can imagine.

I can't recall my granddad looking at me the way my grandma does at times; with a soft smile and her hands bundled, I can catch a slight glimpse of thoughtfulness before she continues with whatever she was doing. There's only once I remember my granddad looked at me like that, and that was when they picked me up after I "survived" being stuck in cold and wet london for a week (you can read ithereandhere), waiting for any non-cancelled flights to be able to take me home for Christmas. He was blank eyed and gave me an acknowledging nod as I hugged my nan, fighting my own tears.

My folks are also not superstitious. I am. When it comes to fantasy and imagination we're like aliens to one another. At New Year's Eve, the first one I ever celebrated away from my family, my nan texted me a text that shook me to the core:

"Thank you for all the happiness you give us, we're so proud of you"

I swear on my life I thought it was a sign something was up. We so rarely say these things to each other. I'm not even entirely sure if my nan said something that blunt at my Graduation.


The reason I'm writing this, is because my nan just called me. My granddad had come down to the kitchen and, to use my nan's word, "received a shock" because of something on the floor. My picture from my confirmation, which have been on the wall since I was 16, had fallen down. He asked my nan to call me, thinking something must have happened. I could still hear the anxiety in her voice after I replied.

My family have never been a family to express love or admiration. Yet, after everything we've been through, there's no shortage of either.

Goodnight everyone
and remember:
Just because someone don't tell you,
doesn't mean they don't love you.


Getting Shredded

For once, I'm actually sticking to a "New Year's resolution" - and I sincerely hope it's a new habit that's come to stay.

PS: Following article will revolve around #health, #fitness, #body and #dieting. I'm under no circumstances writing this entry to encourage people to participate in fitness on an unhealthy level, my opinion from my previous blog entry still stands. More than anything else it is important to be happy with yourself just as you are. However, if someone is not happy with their own body, this entry simply attempts to inspire a healthier living which can change that for you.

Not many people know how I was really experiencing my first semester in Cardiff. On Facebook, things were going great for me. All the big events and opportunities tumbled onto my wall. Yet, I'm not one to make a dpzen status-complaints or go on and on about how much I struggle with this or that (I got a great support system in my friends and blogging is my outlet at the worst).

I was struggling, however. I was struggling a great deal with my course and the transposition from playing sports, living the wild undergraduate life with my crazy friends, or just generally having fun, to having none of that but overload of assignments and theory I didn't understand. I didn't have time to take the jobs given to me, socialising happened only on special occasions and physical activity...well, does walking to school count?

Whatever someone tells you, it doesn't.

Soon I didn't have time to do anything but struggle over coursework. I locked myself up and ate food. Loads of food. I'm talking pasta carbonara or fettuccini four-five times a week, heavily sauced meat dishes or breaded fish with smash for four people (I do love smash). Don't think for a second I was hard to persuade when my tummy suggested a deep pan pizza in the evening, a McDonalds on my way home from school AND delicious snacks - meaning all of crisps, chocolate, sweets, ice cream, etc. - throughout the day. Every day. I've always been a sucker for food. At Model vs FoodIate all of my dish, leftovers from the others andwent home to eat more. Not even to mention back in high school when I completed the eat two pizzas in 20min challenge two years in a row. I love food. Yet, I have never eaten this much, this often and this uncontrolledas last semester. I was bored. I needed distractions. Food became a habit in a flat that suddenly was constantly overflowing with food bought in 'just in case'.Anyone recognise this?Excuses. Oh, the excuses.

Now, what I'm going to say next is probably where a lot of people are going to hate criticize me: I felt huge. Always bloated. My heart palpitation issue reached new heights and bothered me even in my sleep. I went up 3kg and one inch around my waist.

I'm leaving a couple seconds for you all to curse at the screen, call me silly names or even go as far as to call me a hypocrite when comparing this article to what I usually write. However, I'm not a hypocrite. I'm well aware that I should have written 'only' before 'went up'. Yet, that would have been a lie. It wasn't 'only' to me. My body has never changed that drastically and it affected me to the point where I daily struggled to look in the mirror. Not because I was thinking 'Oh God, I'm getting big'. But because I was thinking 'Can I no longer eat the food I like?'.

I know even if I doubled my size, there will always be someone who accepts me for who I am. There is always someone.But this was not about the size, it was about the way I was building up to it without even noticing it. It was about my happiness with myself and my health. My heart palpitation was skyrocketing because of the stress and left parts of my body psychologically feeling so numb my mind constantly wondered whether I'd die of a heart attack in my sleep. Didn't really help on the stress and evil circle did it.

I've been blessed with my metabolism, but you see, skinny obesity is a fact

I didn't want to live like this anymore. As soon as I returned from my Christmas holiday with my head cleared, I knew there was only one thing for me to do. Physical activity had to become my number one priority again; the one thing which could always help me with my stress, the one thing which always controlled my cravings and the one thing which always made me feel better about myself.

I joined EasyGymin Cardiff and set myself a goal for a body I find perfect.I read up on how to eat healthier. I started restraining myself more and eat in moderations. I've eaten salads almost every day since. You would be surprised if you knew I can count the number of times I ate a full salad before 2014 with one hand. My strength was the first to increase and being bloated the first to stop. After that I started asking Personal Trainers for help, I wanted more intensity, more results, more healthy living.

7weeks include:

- Four weeks strength increase and fat loss

- Three weeks learning techniques and new exercises (Incl. 5 PT sessions with Michael McCarthy @MJMPersonalT)

After week 4 I spent a couple of weeks learning techniques right and trying to find the best suitable exercises for me. After a break in week 9, I started getting back into the rythm of having a routine again. The personal trainers at @easyGym have been incredibly helpful when I've been stuck with my techniques.
Each of the 8 weeks I spent 3-5 days in the gym, 1-3hours each and eating smart. Now, being in week 11, I'm again happy with my body, and I even find the energy and thus the time to take on modelling jobs, shifts at my part time job, go to gym and uni. I don't know what made my daily routine change, but it certainly have. For the better. Was it easy? Definitely not. I have 23years of unhealthy eating under my skin. It's going slow. I've had periods where my body have had no change and I've struggled to maintain my motivation (that's a whole other entry itself), but it's going forward.

What's next?

I'm continuing with the fitness and healthy eating, right now I'm rounding off week 2 in a highly engaging Prolimit Fitness plan personalised to me by the very dedicated and professional @AlexMurrayPT of #ProLimitFitness. I will do my best to keep you up to date with how it goes - but you know; when Gym is calling, Gym is calling.
I'm sure someone is going to say this is the influence of the modelling, but modelling is more the drive to accomplish something I've always wanted: a fit beach body. I'm not saying it's the kind of fit that someone else thinks is fit, but a body I think is perfect for me (to be honest, if you show me a fitness model picture, my first reaction willstill be to head over to the cupboard and take out my #Oreos).

I am told that to achieve a certain body I need to cut all carbs. That have yet to happen and I think I'll be eating cheese off the moon before that happens.Instead I'm going to train with more intensity and keep my metabolism going.My choice to become #healthaware and #bodyfit doesn't mean I'll stop having my daily cookie, a bit of chocolate now and then, or a cheat day with my favourite dish (like on my birthday, when I rewarded myself with a pasta carbonara after two months going without it). I'm still in love with food, it's a big part of life and enjoying life's pleasures is always healthy - when done in moderations ;)


22 + 1 and a rubber duck!

#birthday #fundraising #volunteering #celebration #young #foreverachild

Yesterday was my birthday, technically meaning I'm now a year older and a year closer to a midlife crisis. At some point. Back in the days I should probably have been settled, a working woman and married by now. Yet, I'm just here like "I like ducks".

@ChristinaQvam and my Miss Birthday Duck

Yesterday's celebration was unorthodox, in that I didn't start drinking at noon, wrapped myself in some fancy dress or walked through the day thinking of cake...okay, I did the latter. Apparently, I'm all responsible now, so instead me and my friends sent decorated rubber ducks racing down the Taff river in Bute Park for SVC. Don't worry, no ducks came to harm, besides a couple getting stuck along the river, and all ducks were picked up after. My Spider-duck was among the top ten to cross the finish line even though he seemed more occupied saving all the other ducks from someone else's Joker duck. Winning.

Spider-duck, Spider-duck, does whatever a Spider-duck does.
Can he swim, down the lake? Yes he can, he's a duck.
Quack oooon, here comes the Spider-duuuuck!

It was time for my first shift at my new volunteering job after the Duck Race. As the job involves working with children I can't say much about it, however, I can say I had a blast with the small ones and it made me even more excited for my volunteering trip abroad where I'll be working with orphanages, community work, etc. Before I left for the day I also received a drawing from a very talented & ambitious little boy:

I said only a few sentences to this boy; all kind, positive and encouraging - but that was enough.

To round of an already amazing birthday, it was time for a dinner with four close friends of mine. I believe everyone enjoyed themselves, I certainly did and I even treated myself to a pasta carbonara which I'd challenged myself not to order until my birthday. We had some laughs, good conversations and amazing food at Prezzo @love_prezzo, St. Marys' street. Spending #qualitytime with friends is a far better round-off than a night out in my eyes. I really couldn't have had a better birthday!


A (novice) Model's Diary

#Image #Beauty #Confidence #modelling #Insidertruth

So, I've been a bit stuck trying to figure out what interesting article I could write you guys. I obviously refuse to become that sort of blogger who daily updates you on what food I had for dinner, but that means I also have to come up with something good once I actually do write.

I was asking myself the other day, what would I have liked to read the most, back in the day when the days were careless and lazily spent scrolling down another person's words and composition of sentences (that might actually have been yesterday). It clicked probably as quickly as I'll retweet any tweet by a celebrity doing a little bit of "taking from the rich (pockets) and giving to the poor" - and I decided I would give you some inside scoop on the very bespoken modelling industry!

Unfortunately I can't be your 'Gossip Girl'; first of all because I don't have minions, but also because I'm no famous model. I'm not even a high end model. To be honest, I'm just starting to get comfortable calling myself a model - a title I can now use after becoming a Beauty (can I use the word 'Catwalk' instead? It'd make me less uncomfortable) Queen, having had a couple paid modelling jobs and being registered with a few agencies.

Comfortable...that's the keyword for this article. Whether you have a regular 9-5 job and are looking at models and superstars in magazines, or if you actually are a model or superstar, being comfortable in your own skin is just as complicated in one career as the other.

Some time ago a friend posted a link on my Facebook and said that that my blog reminded him of this model's speech:

#TheIndustry @CameronCRussell #TEDtalk

I think what Cameron Russel says about beauty and image is incredible important to take in. Getting into the modelling industry islike winning the lotto, but more like winning the ticket of a self-image circus. You're no longer answering to what looks you yourself think is beautiful, and at times not even what the industry thinks is beautiful. To repeat something I've heard over and over: the industry will hire the looks the clients want - and as a #PR student I know the client will always hire the looks which sells; meaning according to what the customers wants. So when you're working in the modelling industry, your looks is suddenly categorised as pretty enough or not the correct look by the million people labelled as consumers. No pressure at all, it's not like they got different views on beauty...

Credit: Google search image

What happens when the model don't have the right look (I won't say "isn't pretty enough" as no man or woman should ever say that about themselves or others)? They don't get the job. It goes to someone else because it's a lotto-industry with a lot of players. On this basis, I plead to all you lovely readers that you will not share those links going around about how #Photoshop is creating #unrealisticbeautystandards. It's not correct and there are beautiful people (Yes, someone can look like the walking image of a greek-goddess candy-on-a-stick, but beauty doesn't necessarily equal an easier life) who have been incredible lucky to get the assignments they have, Make-up artists who have spent possibly hours getting the right look and Photographers spending just as long getting the right gear up and in the right angle. I have to take the whole day off from everything else whenever I go on a shoot, that's how long time it may take. Don't give Photoshop the credit for that, and even worse; don't take the acknowledgements away from those who deserve it.

I'm not saying Photoshop is not used, but today I personally find there's little difference in the filter the industry uses and the filter you put on your Instagram pictures. I once took a photo with a photographer where my belly showed. I've always been very conscious of my belly and I told him this. He photoshopped the belly so thin that I looked like a proper carved out hour glass. I set my foot down and refused him to ever use the picture, but that's the one and only extreme incident I've ever had with Photoshop in the industry.

Like Cameron Russel demonstrated in her TED talk, there are two sides to a model - the one you see on glossy paper and the one you see in real life. Many people want to get into the modelling industry because modelling photos makes you believe it's been captured at a natural moment, in a natural setting, and that you, the model, thus have to be glamorous 24/7. is my own version of Russel's roulette:


Oh yeah...I'm also one of those awfully self-conscious when at a shoot.

(All filters as seen on the portfolio pictures - except the black/white & sepia ones - are added by me myself)

During a photoshoot, I'll be imagining myself to be a superstar on 10% of the pictures, on 30% I have the energy and patience of a two year old, and on the remaining 60% I'm so self-consciously that the picture above happens. At least I know how to make a joke out of myself, ey...

Comfortable...being confident. The answer doesn't lie in being a model. Becoming a model is not going to give anyone the proclamation they need that they, not just look, but are beautiful; it's not going to make the world say it and it's not going to make the boys mean it. The things becoming a model have taught me is to appreciate those moments I can be myself around the people who like me for who I am and to recognise boys who think you don't see the connection between your new photos coming out and their green light turning on.

Being a model is only an image:
"To me, beauty is about being comfortable in your own skin. It's about knowing and accepting who you are" - Ellen DeGeneres @TheEllenShow

I'm not ungrateful for the opportunities I have received (I love the jobs and the environment), but also not naive to the less glamorous parts of the job;I don't have anything against a natural size 0 nor size pluss #endbodyshame - only if it's the result of unhealthy eating;I won't make any excuses for the industry, I can only be the role model that is my duty to become; the pressure is there whether you're an insider or an outisder; I try not to be a slave to what others think of me, but strive to learn to be confident and pleased with who I am - like everyone should and deserves to be. It's up to ourselves to seperate between what's visual and what's real, and by changing our own attitudes we can change the society.

Note:I don't know if this article will be the first 'Novice Model' entry with more to follow or if this will be the only one. Leave your opinion below regarding whether or not you would like me to keep writing insider treats!


Norway's sons and legends under the same sky!

Me and my cousin went to the @CardiffCityFC game versus @FulhamFClast weekend while she was visiting me in Cardiff. Did you watch the game?

It was a perfect sunny day: the boys made us really proud and the atmosphere was amazing throughout the game.

Cardiff City won a very much needed victory. The celebration roars were overwhelming. There's seriously no wonder I love #sports.

What was particularly funny with this game, however, was the amount of Norwegians collected at the same time and theoretically under the same roof. Two were playing for Fulham; John Arne Riise and Brede Hangeland; three were playing for Cardiff City; Magnus Wolff Eikrem, Mats Mller Dhli and Jo Inge Berget; four norwegian spectators were sitting behind us; and my cousin, myself and Norwegian CCFC manager Ole Gunnar Solskjr were of course present.

After the game, me and my cousin rushed out with the rest of the crowd in order to get close to the entrances where the players would come out. I wanted to greet the Norwegian players in Norwegian, but the both of us wanted to meet Ole Gunnar Solskjr most of all (considering we're also from the #Kristiansund/#Avery area).

I managed to get a few autographs, then after one and a half hour waiting, when most had given up and gone home, we finally got to meet #Solskjr. Since there weren't many left for him to sign autographs with etc. we had the opportunity to let him know where we were from, chitchatted with him and took photos. We shared a couple jokes and laughs for goodbyes and then we split up. Nothing could ruin my smile. I had excitement pumping through my veins.

Why was I this excited?

I've grown up hearing about Solskjr most of my life. Even though he was from the same area as me, I never met him as he was playing internationally. Three years ago he came into Caroline Cinema back home in Kristiansund while I was working. I was so shocked when I realised it was him that I couldn't stop staring. I certainly couldn't speak properly (I do apologise, Solskjr, for the appaling service you must have received). After he got his tickets and left as smiling as he walked in, I jumped around the cinema venue for an hour. Up and down. Shouting something along the line "I just met Solskjr! It was him! It was him! Was it really him? God damnit I just met Solskjr! Shoot, I forgot to ask for an autograph..."

Before the film was to begin, Solskjr came back to buy cinema candies (which by the way is a must when you go to the cinema, get it right folks, it's not the same experience without stuffing your face - ignore the diet!). I could see him coming closer and closer to my till in the que and my colleague watched me fidgeting restlessly. Knowing I was quite anxious to ask, my colleague shoved a pen and paper in my hands the moment Solskjr reached up to the till, and I simply had to ask. I think I stopped a queue of fifty people or so, but Solskjr happily signed an autograph for me.

I brought the very same autograph with me to the game.
I wanted to show him I still kept it safe and that we still believe in him even though he's been getting bad attitudes for the not too successful premier league season of CCFC.
He recognized the autograph, written on an envelope with NORSK KINO in the corner, and beamed when he was told we have faith in him.

This is why he's my hero.

There are good and bad #celebrities and #legends, but those I admire the most are those who manage to maintain down-to-earth, care about #realworldproblems and talk with "normal" people as their equals. Solskjr is just that kind of legend who will talk to you like you're a new acquaintance he's happy to meet. He's respectable and nice, and the exact kind of role model I will follow if I manage to make a name for myself.


A Question of Sport

First of all:
Dydd Gwyl Dewi Sant Hapus

@Velindre #Fundraising #MissFvB2013 @modeldirectory1 #Support #AgainstCancer #questionofsport #CardiffBlues #PublicAppearance

Thursday 27th was my 3rd public appearance - February has been busy but I'm certainly not complaining! There's really no better way to spend an evening than supporting a good cause (I know I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but facts don't change that easily). Besides fundraising, charity and volunteering, however, I do appreciate a good 6 nations game day cheering on Wales (towards a win of course). I must have been giddy with excitement the entire day before my director picked me up to go to the event where we possibly would meet some of the players. Are you a fan of Cardiff Blues or theWelsh Rugby Union? Do you think you would have been just as excited?

It was a greatevening

Before I show you the pictures, there is, however, something more important to tell you about first - the cause and campaign of Velindre:

Velindre Cancer Centre is the largest non-surgical cancer Hospital in Wales providing Radiotherapy, Chemotherapy and other specialised anti-cancer treatments for over half the people of Wales.
We have been providing support and care to cancer patients in South Wales for over 50 years. On average every year Velindre Cancer Centre provides care, treatment and support for over 130,000 out patients and day cases [...]. We believe that every hour, every day, every month that someone survives cancer is a victory. So we have launched a campaign to highlight this positie message - Velindre Victory over Cancer. Every pound that is raised will be used to help us in our battle to achieve the ultimate goal. Every event, every function no matter how small, will be celebration because anything that helps defy cancer will contribute towards our aim of Victory over Cancer. -

And what a celebration yesterday's event was! I believe they managed to raise over the whopping (do we still use that word?) sum of 10,000 for the Velindre Victory over Cancer campaign after the event including the raffle and silent auction. All money raised from the campaign is used to ensure best possible support to every cancer patient, their families and carers. It also allows Velindre to fund ground breaking research, specialist equipment and new developments to help the staff.

The event itself started off with a lovely meal, followed by the competition 'A Question of Sport' between some of the Cardiff Bues (@cardiff_blues) past and present players:

F.L.: Sam Warburton, Gethin Jenkins, Myself and Rhys Patchell
(CoolFact for Norwegian readers: all three lads also play for Wales @WelshRugbyUnion)

F.L.: Tom Shanklin, myself and Rhys Williams
(Martyn Williams was the third past player, but unfortunately missed a photo opportunity with him!)

All the players were lovely & funny gents, I was in stitches watching them compete on stage. It might also have had something to do with Huw Llywelyn Davies as h.i.l.a.r.i.o.u.s MC for the night. Other names you may recognise were Welsh Olympic runner Christian Malcolm, who did a splendid performance as a mystery guest being felt up in a blind guessing competition between the two teams, and sprinter Jamie Baulch.

Myself and Huw Llywelyn Davies

@ChristianM200 as mystery guest in 'A Question of Sport' (Photo Credit: Phil (guest))

@ChristinaQvam and @jamiebaulch

Please click here for Velindre's report of the night and while you're at it read their other articles to see more of the great work they're doing! Do you wish you could participate in an event like this? The next 'Question of Sport' event will be held 17th of April 2014.

Myself and Gethin Jenkins

@ChristinaQvam and @samwarburton_ (Patron for @Velindre)

"Someone in the UK is diagnosed with cancer every 2 minutes", a number increasing, yet more and more people are surviving due to early diagnosis and better treatment. Do you sometimes look for good causes to support? Supporting against cancer in every fashion possible may be some of the most meaningful work you'll do for others.


Attending George Thomas' Poker Charity Event

Last Tuesday was my second public appearance as #MissFvB2013!

#Charity #SupportAgainstCancer #Poker #PublicAppearance

My dear Director and I went to show our support for Tŷ George Thomas' charity at the Grosvenor G Casinoat the Red Dragon Centre in Cardiff Bay. George Thomas Hospice Care work to support the life of people struggling with Cancer:

"George Thomas Hospice Care provides specialist home based nursing and practical advice, emotional and spiritual support, medical equipment, therapies, treatments and day care activities and bereavement counselling. We support up to 1000 patients and their families each year with our multi disciplinary team of specialist nurses, occupational therapists and social workers with all help provided totally free of charge." - George Thomas' website

While the men and women were quickly engaged in their games of poker, the two of us walked around selling raffle tickets. It was an enjoyable evening where a lot of money was raised for a good cause.It wasn't glam and glitz like one may expect, but such an evening is always time better spent in my eyes - especially when someone takes the time to teach you a bit of poker as well! Don't worry, I didn't play. I learned gambling the hard way when I lost all my popcorn once... Do it for fun folks, but don't lose your assets! #ResponsiblePlay




Are you interested in showing your support to George Thomas? You can always attend one of their future events; each one differ from the other so there's bound to be something happening that will interest you. Ps: next one is a pie eating competition. Who doesn't want pie? Mmm, pie.

Next public appearance is already scheduled for next week,
stay tuned to see what this novice model will be up to!


A Different Valentine's Day

'Roses are red, violets are blue,
Your face's full of chocolate,
but others are hungry too'

I came across this video by @TrueStoryASA while pondering what to do for a different Valentine's day (23 years with me, myself and I is self-explanatory) and it made my heart race. I watched the whole video, which I recommend you to do, entered my close friend's name in the Facebook search box and hooked her up with my plan. The results you can see below!

This guy wasmy valentine for today!

My friend Diana found one too!

We set off around 6ish with our trolley - kindly lent to us by the Sainsbury's local at St. Mary's street - filled with two large bread worth of cheese and ham sandwiches, hot chocolate for the cold ones, water, bananas and heart chocolate bites.

#Valentines #Charity #Homeless #FoodIsComing #Inspired

We found several people to help. Eventually.First we took a couple loops around Cardiff city centre without meeting anyone, but around 7.30pm we met one after the other. Some were so cold that the hot chocolate drink became a day-saver. A lady was pregnant and we brightened her day after she had been spit on earlier by a booze-head. She has dreams to become established; today she sleeps on steps like most nights, but on some occasions when she's been able to raise enough money she would pay for a hostel offering laundry, food and shower. Sleeping in a bed was the most lucrative thing she could wish for, she said.
As we were talking to the lady, a man stopped by. He had been in her spot two years ago, but now had his own place and was building his life back up again. He still revisits the old spots where he used to spend his life and was even on his way to one of them as he walked by. Possibly quite naive, very eager to help and willing to take risks in order to accomplish our goal, we followed him to this scene from another world. One could've taken a flight to a less fortunate country and it would have looked like it did where we were standing. Yet, we were right outside the mall! A van and other helpers were present, handing out clothes and drinks to the homeless. Some were fighting, some were screaming for 'stuff', but in the midst of all was our guide telling us stories and teaching us techniques that would help us recognize who needed the help and who were just being greedy. Being at the scene was an invaluable experience for us. Thanks to this guy, our valentine's day was blown way past our expectations!

What a playa!

When volunteering and helping others I always find that spark of awareness and gratefulness which I wish would fuel me constantly. One thing has to be said: Don't always write off the problems of the homeless as a result of drug- and/or alcohol problems, and try to be understanding even if this is the case. I've seen more than one student heading down this road, it's easily done. However, some, like our guide, had a normal life with a family etc before things went wrong. "I'm nobody, you're somebody: you're on a mission" he said to us. He was right, besides with the first part. All of us are somebody. The difference is the cards we've been dealt. By the end of the day it's all down to genetics, timing and choices made. Don't take your luck for granted. Don't forget things could have been worse and the other way around. Wouldn't you appreciate the compassion of others if they were?

Spark a hope, light up the darkness

It's a beautiful thing, compassion is. Personally I find it to be one of the most attractive attributes a person can have. The more it is done, the more people will show it and the greater it gets. So join in; I hope you feel a bit inspired and at the very least please share this link so that others might. I, @ChristinaQvam, hereby #GiveNominate you:

Be compassionate, be great!


Official Public Opening of Matthew Pritchard's SWYD Tattoo and Barber Shop

#SWYD #PublicOpening #Pritchard @SWYDTATTOO

Yesterday, Miss Fashion vs Beauty 2013 made her first public appearance on the Official Public Opening of Dirty Sanchez's star Matthew Pritchard's SWYD (Sleep While You're Dead) Tattoo and Barber shop. Oh and yes, she would be me!

I'm not going to lie; I probably went through my wardrobe a dozen times. Having no clue what to wear for a "public appearance". It proved that my worries were a waste as I got put in a promo t-shirt the moment I arrived. My only worry now was to suck that belly in (mhm, that's right, us models got our insecurities too). Still, I enjoyed it and am very much looking forward to the next event on the schedule - which I cheekily am going to reveal is going to be in February as well! Watch this space for more FvB updates!

#Fashionvsbeauty @modeldirectory1
My director, Nyomi Lenny, and I doing some promoo

Matthew Pritchard @pritchardswyd and myself @ChristinaQvam (FvB @Modeldirectory1)

As they say, a picture says more than a thousand words so instead of writing a lengthy piece of descriptions about Cardiff's new to-go-to Tattoo and Barber shop, I'm rather just going to show you the video of the VIP opening of SWYD as it says it all -next time you're in Cardiff and would want a tattoo; you'll know where to go!


12 Years Daddy, I think "Heaven" Should Give You An Earth Day Pass

I'm watching the film from when I was a year old. It's my only way to remember your voice. It's my only way to remember you walking. I hear my brother in your voice. I hear my grandmother in my great grandmother's voice. This year it's 10 years since great grandmother passed away and next year it's 10 years since Mama went. Where did the time go? What happened with the future we were supposed to have? Where did all the happiness go? We were a real family. We should have had that. I see how you looked at her. How she looked at you. I was born into so much love and I've spent my lifetime looking for it.

Out of the three houndred-and-what's-the-count nights a year this never changes. Every day in november up to this point is a countdown. Before tonight you were alive. In the morning you're gone. I thought this year's November was going to be hard, like the two last years have been. But actually, I only felt it the past week. The eerieness of it. The loneliness. The melancholy. I was walking past this street shop where an asian lady was selling her prints when I felt it the worst. I stopped to look at pictures and distract my thoughts among all the people. There it was. A picture that spoke more than actions:

'Dad' by Esther Wong

She thanked me for noticing it, I thanked her for making it. I told her, about you being gone dad. She said 'thank you for telling me' with tears in her eyes and then I got tears in my eyes - it was all a feast of feels.

Ten years went without the fact of being an orphan being able to get to me, then after ten years it hit me it didn't matter whether there was twenty, thirty, even fifty - you still wouldn't come back to me. Nothing would change. The two empty parent seats would never be filled. I've been reading how I was doing that yearandhow I was doing the year after.

I was so broken in 2011, but I made a promise:'Yes, my heart aches for you to be here for me when I come home, to tell me the guys who breaks my heart isn't good enough for your girl, or to join me on family trips like most dads. But I've accepted that my world is different from that. I've accepted that none of you are gonna be in it. I have taken what I can learn from this and put it to my heart. I've grown up knowing people come and go, and that no one will be there forever. I've learned one just got to enjoy the time one have together, make the best out of life and be grateful when it all passes away. They tell me I was your little princess, but I think you know I grew up to be tougher than that.'

I've kept it true. I miss you daddy. Always. Am I still struggling? No. I'm feeling like myself. Like the same girl who for ten years simply accepted the fact you were gone. There's been hard stuff happening this year as well. Things I've struggled with. Things I wish had gone differently. Then there has been big events. Like my graduation. I would have done anything that day to see you and Mama sitting by nan. Anything. I'd do anything for you to be there on all big days like that in the future. Yet, you won't. And I'll be OK with that. I'm strong enough again to accept it all.
You both may have left me without a childhood, with memories I wish I didn't have and sent me on a lonely, wandering path in life - searching for that something I'm meant for and belong to. But that's okay. You left me to become strong enough to overcome obstacles. You've left me means and freedom to live rich on experiences. That's more than what most orphans get. Some might see the value of life, like I do, but many don't get the chance to enjoy it like I've done. I want to change that. I want to make sure they do. Your choices have taught me to stick it out - this world with all it's pains and griefs - I have to be courageous and self-sacrificing. You've given me a life where I can draw inspiration to make life better for those who are unable to do so, I couldn't be more grateful for that.

Give Mama a kiss from me. Tell her I'll write to her soon. Chase after her like nan said you used to do (before everything went wrong). Laugh and play wherever you are and be in love. When I manage to fall asleep tonight, that's what I'll dream about. I'll dream that I hear you say those words I can't ever hear.That'll be a happy family memory I'll keep with me.

'The last enemy to be destroyed is death'

We'll show them together, you'll be in my heart - always.



I Have a Dream

'To live happily ever after', that's what Disney taught us as kids and that's what we grew up with. Well,some of us. God knows there's plenty enough of kids and young people embarking on life with the closest association to 'Happily Ever After' being to see another day. In such a global and educated world as we live in today, I still find that unbelieveable.

There is a girl I walk past every morning on my way to lectures. She's selling one of those magazines you never buy. Every morning she looks at me and at this point she recognizes me immediately, like I recognize her. She knows I won't buy anything, but she nods and gives me a smile. I look at her and I think she could've been the face of anyone in my class, or of someone in anyone else's class for that matter. There is no difference in us, besides the cards we've been dealt in life, so I smile and nod back to her. She wishes me a good day for school, I wishes her a good day.

People like to say that we're all responsible for shaping our own lives, our own futures and ourselves. Besides that, yes, we're responsible of making our own choices; being at the right place to the right time and making sure we learn to grow into the person we were meant to become; I'd say there's little control we have to shape our lives. Heck, we can't even control when we're entering into it or exiting it.

Most of the time I'm no better than the person next to me. Because it lifts a heavy weight of my shoulders and gives my mind peace, I'll easily fall into the distraction, selfishness, comfort and security of a shallow life. But then I have my moments, where I meet someone who, do something which or just simply remind myself how lucky I am to be who I am, where I am and living/experiencing the life I do. I could've been so close not to.

My grandmother told me one day that my mum was close to taking me with her to Thailand after she left my dad. I was two years or so then. My mum suffered from manic depression and was more than likely influenced by that when she planned to leave Norway. Truth to be told, if my nan had not managed to step in and stop her there's no knowing who I'd be, what I'd know or where I'd be at this date. One thing for sure is that I would probably not be sitting in my rented flat, close to finishing an expensive education and have the experiences I have. I read somewhere that 'Life/God (whatever you feel like putting in there) doesn't hand you more than you can handle', so I guess I'll always be grateful for my pile of baggage not to be even heavier. I also suspect that if that had been my situation, I think me as a person would still have tried to remain strong through it. To survive. Through everything I've been through that's been my basic instinct and I can't see why that should've been any different. Yet, sometimes will isn't enough. Like I wrote in my previous article, I wouldn't have gotten half this far if it wasn't for the people who have come and gone, or stayed, in my life. Good or Bad. My gramps who took me in or people that took a chance on me. Their and anyone in the future's actions relating to me will always be a chain reaction driving my life further. Giving me Happiness. Grief. Lessons. Hope. Love. Inspiration. Strenght. Opportunities. Likewise so will I for others. It is therefore not your own fate you keep in your hands, you're keeping others'.

Feeling empowered yet? No, because you don't want that responsibility do you?
Very few people do. We all enjoy a good book, because when we're done living through the quest we can close it and know we're safe in our comfy seats. We all enjoy the new technology or useless mass produced product (for the millionth time), because surely that will at one point or another drive the world forward. Never mind the more important medicine research etc the money could've been spent on instead. We all enjoy watching tv series to be entertained, but forget to learn that life is fleeting;that sometimes some of us run wild and free for ourselves and some of us run wild and free for something/somebody special;that relationships and true love isn't about being tied down to someone or the next fb update, but to build a special, invaluable connection with someone;that channeling love can raise the world; that selfishness breeds nothing but bad karma; that everything you want to have said is best to have said because before you know it it'll be too late. It's all okay, as long as we don't have to deal with the external of it all. It's okay to raise prices to earn more money. It's okay to seek power, so that at least you yourself don't feel insignificant. It's okay that others live a less fuller life, as long as someone lives a full one.

And then...what if the world realised its not okay? What if the big companies lowered their prices so that everyone could afford their product and the companies realized they'd earn just as much on quantity and at the same time raising the social standards with them? What if those who sought power would give it up to help those lower than themselves and thus make themselves invaluable to the world? What if we all made sure everyone had the chance to live a full life and then there would be no need to be scared to live a lesser one?

By the end of the day, that's what it's all about isn't it? We're all running or hiding for something. Procrastinating taking actions with all the nice little distractions materialism throws in our way. The world is made up by two forces: Fear and Love. How funny is it not, that Fear, the ultimate reason for being selfish, is also the key (issue) to save the world and bring us the love/paradise (again, whatever you want to call it) we're all seeking. I'm not chasing butterflies here. I know that sorting out the wars, religion issues etc. in the third world goes way beyond what the individual western citizen can do. On the other hand, we're the leading side of the world god damnit, is well about time to lead with an example is it not?

I do have a dream;
'And so, The World Lived Happily Ever After'


It's the Support that Makes the Difference!

It's odd looking back to my previous article ten days ago and thinking of everything that have happened since then. Less than two weeks were spent promoting, selling raffle tickets and raising money towards Bobath Children's Therapy Centre, before it all culminated into possibly the biggest night of my life...

I won 1st place for Scarlet Etoile Photoshoot, Miss Charity, Miss Publicity, Miss Fashion and the Overall Miss Fashion vs Beauty 2013 - Being the first in Miss Fashion vs Beauty to win several titles! (How sick is that!!)

I was big on promoting the charity side (and less the competition side) of Miss Fashion vs Beauty: By the end of the day that is what Miss Fashion vs Beauty is to me. Charity is the heart and cause of the organisation and its true beauty lies in how people gather together to raise money for children in need. Fiercely and Elegantly.

I'm still overwhelmed with feelings and thoughts regarding yesterday; humble feelings because there were sooo many beautiful, good spirited girls I felt deserved to win the titles; nervous and excited thoughts for what I'm to embark on for the coming year and some feelings genuinely shocked I didn't fall off the stage.

They say a smile to a stranger can make their entire day...

If I'd chose one thing to be proud over it would be the fact that a nervous girl harshly affected by social anxiety arrived to the UK for over 3 years ago and then grew so much that I managed to walk that catwalk yesterday - loving it and playing it. Yet, I can't say that's all thanks to myself, because I would never have gotten that far without my amazing support system.

The encouragement. The compliments. The faith. The well wishes. The hugs. The inspiration. All of it have got me to where I am now, not only looking in on a future where I can help others - but put on the threshold of it. I'm so insanely happy I've met everyone in my life, whether they are still in it or not; I'm so happy for absolutely everyone who have helped me stand tall.I walked those walks for YOU yesterday. You've made someone who grew up feeling insignificant and alone in life, to someone who yesterday was said to be Fierce (in doing something she's never done before). You gave me one of the biggest nights of my life. If you ever doubt your support to be helpful, you remember that.

Then, on a bigger scale, also remember that support (when working together) can, not only fulfill dreams, but help people live a fuller life which everyone deserve:

Support a little, Inspire a lot

I would like to THANK EVERYONE who bought a raffle ticket or donated online, thanks to you I managed to raise 180 (100 offline, 80 online) in less than two weeks! That's way more than I ever dared to hope for and I had so much fun feeling the inspiration everytime someone would take their time to support the cause. Some of you leaving comments on my page can't even imagine how much your gentle words made this experience everything it is to me (read: I was blubbering like an idiot when I read them). You're all fabulouse people.

Now, before I go and attempt to clean up the champagne etc while singing the chorus for 'For momets like this' (because I can't get it out of my head) I would like to thank Nyomi Lenny for finding me, tossing me into the whole thing headfirst and giving me a opportunity of a lifetime; I would like to thank Bryley Hinton (Our Fabulouse Hairdresser w/ the rest of her team from House of Hinton) who upon learning that I had no one in the audience, said 'I'll be there and cheer you on!'; I would like to thank my darling Sara Alexandra for the faith she showed in me when whispering in my ear 'when you win I'm gonna jump at you' and for the many times she flattened me when I did. Thank you to everyone involved with the event for making it such a good evening for everyone and finally THANK YOU AND CONGRATULATIONS to all the stunning, lovely and high spirited girls I met yesterday. Not ONCE did the event feel like a competition and I enjoyed every minute of it. I'm so proud of everyone, particularly my outstanding bromancing girls, and my opponent Miss Beauty 2013, Neasha Date who may be the most intimidatingly beautiful girl I've ever met.

We're all winners in my eyes: We all pulled through for Bobath!

PS: remember, you can still keep donating on my page and the money will go directly to Bobath Children's Therapy Centre!


Miss FashionRoadkill to enter Miss Fashion vs Beauty Fashion Show!

A second article tonight. It doesn't really have much to do with the previous one, besides that you can call it karma if you want to. It does, however, revolve around helping people who needs it as my present and future is all about.

Sunday evening, close to 12am, I received a message from the lovely Nyomi Lenny formlly inviting me to a Final Fashion Model Casting. Not knowing who she was or what it was, I first thought it to be one of those messages one get from fake profiles. I did respond, however, and after a bit her responses persuaded me to come along for the event the next day. So I did, heart in my throat and many different scenarios playing in my mind as I took the taxi to said destination. Once arrived there I was quite quickly shown how to walk a catwalk and told that I will be walking the catwalk (which I've never done before) in a fashion show on the 20th of October run by Miss Fashion vs Beauty (talk about sending someone headfirst into the fire, woman xxx):

Miss Fashion Vs Beauty is the Uk's first combination model/ pageantry competition which is open to all women age 17 -30 years old. Married, Divorced, single mums all welcome to enter. We pride ourselves on fairness on stage. Fastly growing within the UK pageantry Industry and able to hold our own against mega pageants like Miss Wales/ Miss Universe/ Miss England / Miss Galaxy and more.
We are a 100% charitable organisation with all funds going directly to Bobath Childrens Therapy Centre Wales provides specialist physiotherapy, occupational therapy and speech and language therapy to children all over Wales who have cerebral palsy.

I was expecting the butterflies to have announced their presence by now, but I think I've been too busy selling raffle tickets. I will admit that I more than once have pictured myself pulling a Carrie Bradshaw:

But to be honest, if I so do, I guess I will just have to stand up and keep going won't I. This is for the children, I'll easily do a Christina-does-things-she-can't-do for them. Worst case scenario I'll continue the Bradshaw legacy as #FashionRoadkill

'Because when real people fall down in life, they get right back up and keep on walking!'

Please Support the Children by donating here:

(Along with the Fashion show we are also selling Christmas raffle tickets, doing a Model vs Food event (Friday 11th), bucket collections, etc.

So there's no lazy-model-filing-their-nails-business going on here),


Did You Ever Stop to Think That Others Are as Real as You?

Have you ever had that feeling when you see someone, be it a stranger or a friend, that you're just meant to speak with them? Ever gone and done that and experienced a row of opportunities, surprising news or just learned a memorable life story? Ever found that you can make someone else's day and not just your own by doing so?

Ever since I started 'studying' the Celestine Prophecy I've been practicing in taking chances on these situations and the opportunities really do keep on rolling. It's like a window being opened if you take the time to acknowledge that it can be.

Last Saturday, when I was walking around on the pavement barefeet to cool down my feet on a night out (yes, it was that time of the night), I took notice of an old, homeless guy sat playing the harmonica. Fairly enough I was bubbly, drunk and faar more full of guts than I usually am, but I still went over and sat down by him. I asked him if he could play 'Proud Mary' (I don't know why). He didn't know it and asked me to sing it. So I did. He listened for a bit, then said he still didn't know it. 'Well try!' I said and kept on singing, having completely spaced out on the correct lyrics at this point. He listened for a little bit more, then took up his harmonica and played along to the chorus. I'm pretty sure it wasn't correct, but it was still fun to see the joy in his face as he tried. I told him well done and...

'it's all in the attempt mate, we all gotta try and fail a bit.'

He couldn't reply before another man stopped by us, said something rude to me and the homeless guy shouted back 'Don't talk to her like that!' I told him 'just ignore him, nothing better to do with rude people' and in the end the man started walking away, before he turned and came back.
'Was I rude?'
I told him 'yes he was'. He asked what he could do about it and I told him he could apologise or he wouldn't get to sit with us (God damn smartass alcohol). And so he apologised.

Ignoring the man further, however, I asked the homeless guy what his story was. He said he'd once had a house etc and a girlfriend, but girlfriends after girlfriends had his kids and took his money. Apparently he had 5 kids. I asked what he wanted out of life. A house and a woman he said. I told him maybe to wait a bit with the woman: it's only healthy being OK on ones own before one can be with someone else. Afterall, we're born alone and die alone. He thought that to be rather sad. 'Yes, but that makes you appreciate the good things inbetween doesn't it?' I said. He agreed to that. Then I asked where he stayed, if he couldn't go to any shelters etc. He said they were usually full, but sometimes he got to stay with his children. I asked him how that felt like. He said that was very nice. I asked him if that made him feel safe and comfortable. He said it did. Then I told him to make that feeling his ambition, to appreciate it when he had it and to work for it when he didn't. 'We all have our bad stories (I didn't tell him mine) and we all have the option to find our way through it'.

Before I had to leave I found a pound coin in my wallet and said: 'This is not for drugs. This resemble someone who believes in you and is meant for something greater; don't throw away faith.'

He grabbed my shoulders and hugged me. I had made his day he said. That was one pound coin well spent.


Ignorance a bliss, yes?

The kind of ignorance I cannot abide by are of those who's been taught misery, yet have not learned compassion; of those who battle evil with evil, but forget to use love & of those who talks of wisdom, but have no knowledge. However, there is one ignorance to which I aspire: the kind believing to be the change the world require.


Life in the Big(ger) City (so far)!

Here is, as promised, an article about how I've been doing in Cardiff so far.

The last month has aged me from how I felt like when being in Aber. I've moved into a real-grown up flat (complex) which I've decorated and fixed myself. It's not a student's flat nor a childish flat. It's an young adults bachelorette pad. I've built furnitures, cooked dinners and kept the place tidy (well, after today it will be tidy again). I even managed to put on the dishwasher aall by myself yesterday (let's not speak about the laundry machine).

I've settled into a breakfast routine, which includes putting on a cartoon or family film, while sitting by my kitchen island eating breakfast. This way I start off my day feeling happy and positive (remember how one used to do this before school when we were kids?). And I've settled into a running route which allows me to stop by my inspiration/meditation spot in Bute Park where I can plot down ideas, read or just let my mind rest.

Today I've had my first shift at Hollister, and I couldn't have been more pleased about yet again having managed to get myself a working place where the people are nice, chilled out and funny. I love working within sales and customer service (pretty sure the happy faces of those I helped were the highlight of my day)!! I was shit nervous to begin with, but I got more relaxed for every hour so hopefully at some point this week all the nerves will be gone. I might have to slap a Beyonce poster over my face tho, cause I've very rarely seen so many au naturel beautiful people in one place.

With home and work settled, I can say as much as I've never been this at ease with life before. Having fullfilled my dreams of studying abroad and living the 'American' studentlife, on my own, has made me feel content and perfectly happy with myself. Saying that, I'm also more hell bent & focused on my future (as if someone ever thought that possible). Soon I'll do my one year masters, finish it and travel the world doing PR & charity work; building my CV. Meanwhile, due to feeling so positive I'm also inspired. I'm actually writing again (hours on hours, hardly any sleep: it's wicked!) and pursuing my highest ambition to become a published writer. I can see my life path of the past clearly as achieved. I'm not lost, but steadily walking my present path; a phase of hard work and focused inspirations; an upwards spiral, always threatening to fall down, yet thus so much more valued and appreciated. Finally, I can also see my future path as 100% rewarding and perfectly within reach after hard work. Following your dreams does the trick people, it really does.

Have a good Monday tomorrow, lovelies, we all know how those can be!


Another End of an Era and another New Beginning

I honest to God have no idea of how many samples I've written of this article; how many things I've wanted to say and how many things I've decided to cut out. Yet, I owe it to my friends reading this thing and to a good friend who even sent me a Facebook message requesting a new article. I have after all left Aberystwyth, my beloved and hated home for three years, and I guess that does deserve a few (read: waterfall amount, mouth diarrhoea, ramble of thoughts and essay length worthy-) words.

My Final Goodbyes to Aberystwyth (The Short Version)

This article is dedicated to a town and university which I have loved and hated with equal measure. A town which I wanted to escape from, yet longed for, and a University which I learned all and nothing from. A seaside bubble which offered me nothing of education, but everything in life experience. It let me live out my cheerleader fantasy, the student dream of conquering and rule a 'spring break WHOOHOO' location from winter to summer with other students and the american dream of belonging somewhere 'Where everybody knows your name'.


King-of-the-World-nights out followed by Hanging-out-of-a-badger's-arse-mornings

Frisky trips up Constitution Hill

Ass-kicking games at Blan Fields

Moments that took our breath away

Moments that took our self-respect away

Challenges that made us champs and the celebratory champagne that turned us into monkeys

California runs along the prom




Snoozing in lectures

All the bastards I were smitten by and all the sexy people I befriended

All the people I got put down by, because hey - I'm flying even higher!

All the people that supported me and stood by me, loved me and cared for me, and whom I forever will have in my heart.

TO the sorrows, laughter, heartache and love -

Thank you Aberystwyth and Goodbye!

Well, not quite yet...

The Extended Final Speech to Aberystwyth
(warning: not suitable reading for immature people lacking the skills of empathy or emotions, nor for those with the attention or patience span of a five year-old)

Following are my acknowledgements to the things in Aber which brought me joy and the things I learned from being in Aberystwyth


The official reason for why I came to Aber has always been the seaside and a better study offer. Now even Falmouth (my second option) has a seaside and my department's study offer proved to be the same as paying gold for self-study books. My unofficial reason to come to Aber, however, was really that of Cheerleading. Of the two schools I wanted to go to, Aber was the only one with a cheersquad. And I hadalwayswanted to do Cheerleading.

For two years Cheerleading was my biggest passion. I improved with the time, learned loads, did a stunt or two no one on the team had done before me and had my stomach full of adrenaline every time I was sent into the air. It was perfect - and I even got to wear a kit!

Cheerleading was my number one priority in my first and second year at Uni. I loved it: it was everything to me and I had a better attendance at practice than my lectures. I learned my vital 5-a-day from this sport: Positivity, Balance, Flexibility, Team-work andEndurance.
At third year things changed. What is the hardest experience and crucial rule of University is that dynamics change over three years. People come and go, new people in power, things are done differently and everything changes. Without much elaboration I can say that several events and relations slowly, but surely erased all my happiness and pride to the sport. The only event I will elaborate on, however,is my last fallwhich I, with a lot of luck, came out from without a bigger scratch than a fright. Yet, it was a fright which slowly limited what I dared to do and in the end made it all insufferable to my own confidence and unpleasant to those expecting more of me. People stopped believing in me and I stopped believing in myself. I never regained my full potential in the sport, but I stuck it out for one more competition even though I was terrified and lacked confidence every.single.minute.

As my passion burned out for cheerleading, however, it opened up space for other extreme activities:

Jelly Wrestling (sorry, no picture), Superteams and Rugby7s

My fear after the fall might have made me strike out of one game, but it sent me head first into the big leagues!
Everyone said I would be thwarted like a stick, but I went, I drank and I completed without falling behind. These events not only made my self esteem, it made my whole third year and assured I'd leave Aber on a good note. For some that might not be a lot, but for me it means I didn't waste three years of my life on a place I wouldn't look back at. Now I've left Aber as a place where I challenged myself physically and emotionally, and came out of it feeling like the Hulk!

Cheers to the Athletic Union - for giving me a family in Aberystwyth, for testing me, for pushing me and making me grow!

...something which made one smile in the first place (because let's face it, we're all going to cringe over those nights where we found ourselves practically swimming along Yoko's dance floor).

Let me tell you a story.
I can be on the highest mountain top or by the bottom of the highest tower, yet it wouldn't capture my attention or make me feel the same sensation as when I look over a large city at night with their multi-coloured lights on - like a Christmas morning - or the feeling I get from driving/galloping/walking under tree tunnels.

One triggers the association of life and spirit

the other reminds us that whereas there's a light in the end of a tunnel, a tree tunnel associates adventure and thousands of possibilities glinting by as you go through - just like life.

One evening my ex took me to see a favourite spot of his from his childhood, without knowing of my fascination for the sights above. On our way there we passed tree tunnels and my face became glued to the window like a dog discovering a roast on the kitchen worktop. I thought the wonders would stop there, but the spot he took us to had a full view over his hometown, and it twinkled back at us in the night. It then hit me; I was a Norwegian girl living in an international country, could have met and fallen for any boy and gone to any other hometown. Yet here I was - on the right track, exactly where I needed to be. I felt successful in life without actually having done anything. You might want to call it a coincidence, but to a believer of the Celestine Prophecy you would only confirm my view on the matter:

"When we have an intuition or a dream to pursue a particular course in our lives and we follow this guidance, certain events transpire that feel like magic coincidences. We feel more alive and excited. The events seem destined, as though they were supposed to happen." - James Redfield, The Tenth Insight, p. 81

. For one day I didn't have anxiety or restlessness in the back of my mind, but completely felt like I was at the right place to the right time. My ex might have caused me a lot of heartache, but with him I also had the happiest day of my life. That ladies and gentlemen, is worth a little rough treatment of the heart.

Cheers to learning not to regret something which made us smile in the first place!


I would like to take a moment to thank my heart. The little pumping bastard who has been broken over and over, who has been having to fill up with 'lost and always loved' people and still strives to hold onto the living ones. A heart that has been used, daggered in the back, stomped on, and even exposed to severe salt and fat intake due to a very unhealthy choice of meals. To me the little bugger is closer and closer to immortal.
Immortality in my dictionary (we should get you one of those) is overcoming all the obstacles you or others don't think you can handle; like moving on to your future from your past without becoming an emo, dodging a pitbull rugby player with a bad back and cheat death in a 3meters spear-tackle landing; it's throwing yourself into adrenaline activities, but more importantly taking the biggest risk there is - to fall in love - over and over again, no matter how many time someone brings you heartache. Being immortal is also living an indefinite life for as long as ever possible. It is my belief that in order to do this, one will have to live life as if it is definite, every day, so that each day becomes valuable and memorable when it's time to look back on them. The more you have to look back on, the more indefinite your life seems and the longer you've lived.

Tip: make yourself a Things I've done before I Turn Immortallist instead of Things to do before I die list!

Cheers to our hearts!


In Aber I've always been Christina the Cheerleader - despite the fact I study books, eat like a horse and dance like Moulin Rouge on Wednesday nights. Actually, for the last four and a half years of my life I've been a Sports Person. But that's only one of the phases the Past MEhasgone through in my life:

Kindergarten: My 'I'm going to run away from home with my sleeping pillow' Phase (Adventures always stopped by the playground tho, or that time I lost my sleeping pillow in a pond and cried for half an hour by its edge because I couldn't move on without it....face palm)

Primary School: My tomboy Phase (With a jumper, trousers and hair pulled back in a ponytail I was ready to climb the trees, play football or pretend to be a pacific blue cycle police everyday (Kids of the modern generation: you're seriously missing out).

Lower Secondary School: My 'Horse' Phase which I gave up when Sims2 came out and My 'Gamer' phase started (God, if I could only play Street Punks or Oddworld: Munch's Oddysee again....) and occasionally interrupted by My 'Philosophical' Phase (DO NOT DISTURB)

High School: My 'Chav' Phase (let's go cruiiising in our big joggers with a bottle of coke shall we?)' and My 'Flirt' Phase - The ultimate dilemma when you found out you could attract attention with your body language, but was too innocent to go to any bases - Followed by my ultimate phase as a Sports Person.

Now at the end of Uni and on the threshold of Adulthood I'm looking back and contemplating who I am - and for once without taking other people's opinion of me into consideration. I have realised over the past months that most of these phases still remain within me:

I wouldn't be caught dead in them, but I do love chillin' in mah joggers with my cap on while gaming. My philosophical thoughts are played out to the pleasure (or torture) of anyone reading my blog or future Novels, while really I'm just dreaming about one day to live in a Jane Austen novel. The tomboy has grown to an Athlete and the run-away child is still running away - although I don't know from which home anymore. Finally, the flirt phase has really been going on since I was old enough to dream of luuuuv and can be portrayed by me running away from a boy coming after - okay, that's a lie, it's usually the other way around.... Okay, that's a lie too. When it comes to me, guys, emotions, sex and love, I still feel like this:

.....I might possibly have Ron Weasley's emotional range of a teaspoon when it comes to these matters...

Although I always was a romantic, I was a hopeless one. I never really experienced lasting love, either because I always changed as a person according to whom I was into, or because I chose the wrong guy for one out of two reasons:

Sometimes it's easier to fall for someone who doesn't care for you as much as you care for them. It put you out of the risk of hurting others:

"It's not hard to love someone when they don't love you back. That's easy. It's just wistful stares and sighs and catching a glimpse and your breath. No, that's not the hard part. The hard part is loving someone who loves you back. Loving someone who would die for you is the most difficult thing because if you love them wrongly then they won't just laugh, roll their eyes and forget. They'll hurt. They'll ask things of you that you can't Possibly give them and they'll give them all to you a thousand times over, and you'll ache when you can't return the gesture" - Anwen Kya Hayward.

Other times you just want someone to waste your time with, someone you know is going to leave you so you don't have to leave them and thus make sure you don't settle with anyone before you're ready.

After the breakup from my first relationship, I realised I've been doing latter a lot. Up until then I had come to the UK to feel inspired and to fall in love and end up in a relationship. I didn't realise I was already in a relationship I needed to figure out of and 'pay my duties' to: a relationship with life.

For so long I've been focused on finding someone who could love me and spend time with me. But for the past half year I've realised I had to learn to be ok on my own and accept myself first, if anyone else was ever gonna. It took one particular friend to help me make this a reality as well, and thanks to him I guess I can say I learned not to overthink things, enjoy myself and ended up "fucking loving" every last bit of my time in Aber. For the past months I can say that for the first time in my life I've found myself to be perfectly content on my own.I spend the time concentrating on mypresent self -instead of worrying about 'love's keen sting' - onmy needs, on figuring out who I am and following my dreams - I owe that to the future I.

To finding and accepting me, myself and I!

Thank You Aberystwyth, For All The Memories, Every Friendships I've Made And Everything I've Learned

Where does the road take me now then?

Before I was 10 I had moved around 15 times back and forth with my mama and away from her. First time I moved out by my own choice was when I was almost 17 and I moved to be closer to my High School. Second time was when I moved to Aber. I've come to learn that almost every place you move to is a chance for you to be someone new (although Aber has taught me that you'll always keep a little of the old you left) and learn something new (Thanks to Aber I learned to accept and be happy with myself). Now, I'm yet again to start a new beginning and I'm realising that this might just be what I'm meant to do for most of my life - until I find something worth settling for that is. If this will be something (a home) or someone (the one), that remains to see, but one of my bestfriends at home seems to think I'll find the one when I find the other and I do agree. But that's far ahead in the future, let's look at the nearest future:

First of all, I've moved my butt to Cardiff for a year to study an International PR and Global Communication Management MA for the sake of my future: to finish my education and open up not one, but every doors possibly to my ultimate goals and wishes in life!

After that I will be setting out on a world tour with working experience, voluntary work and holidaying. The route is still under construction, but you can see the test sample here:

(2015: Norway-> Italy -> Thailand -> Brazil -> Peru -> Puerto Rico -> Florida -> Canada before back to Norway or somewhere else depending on job offers! PS: the route may include a road-trip from LA to New York unless I wait with this for the Dubai-New Zealand-LA trip in 2017....whoever think I never plan ahead is an idiot o.O)

Hwyl Fawr, Everyone - Speak to you soon established in Cardiff; same me, just a different post code!


A Mother's Day Card to Heaven

On my own
Pretending you're beside me
All alone
I walk with you till morning
Without you
I feel your arms around me

And when I lose my way I close my eyes
And I have found you

- edited, Les Miserable's 'On my Own'

There'll always be that special bond between a mother and her child.

Even when one of them is no longer present.

The hour just clicked into Mother's day, although like valentine's day it's been announced like a storm-warning for the last weeks.

Throughout the day the networks will be overfilled with love for that one person that gave us life,

and for the first mother's day ever I'll post something too.

I found a card from you when looking through my old things during summer, when I was low and down and everything seemed hopeless.

Your greeting said 'Mama loves you with all her heart. Take care my little angel'

and I can't remember you ever calling me your angel. I can't even remember receiving the card.

I never got to sit with you throughout the days and learn about make-up, boys and life.

Yet your choice gave me the most important lesson I could ever learn.

Losing faith and hope is not an option: darkness is just a phase before the morning. Life has so much to offer.

I wish you would have found the world a brighter place before your fire burned out.

But I'll keep it burning in me for you.

I'll help, love, laugh and inspire for as long as I can breathe.

...for me and others to Love to Live.

You raised me up, so I can stand on mountains,

You raised me up, to walk on stormy seas,

I am strong, when I am on your shoulders

You raised me up... To more than I can be

I love you with all my heart Mama for giving me life,

Sweet Dreams in Heaven


Read more in the archieve December 2014 November 2014 October 2014
C. Qvam

C. Qvam

23, Kristiansund

A chaser of those ambitions; currently a freelance traveller, philanthropist and writer living her biggest dreams of travelling around the world, volunteering and getting the inspiration to put pen to paper. Feel free to browse through all my categories and articles, stay tuned for more updates! <3 I've moved my writing base to a new platform! Please look at for my travel journal either you're interested in my travelling and volunteering or if you're just keen on doing the same but need more information! Look at for my own homepage where you can find other interesting links. I will still keep using this blog for personal stories and updates!




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