Did it all started in Istanbul?

There was no believe in God for half of my life…When I was about 12, I confessed the priest that I loved my mother more than God, and he made me pray 12 Lord's Prayer!. I was fearing loving my mother more than God could be a sin, and he did not deny or explain to me why it shouldn’t be. So I decided this man and all alike where just true idiots. And God just an invention that didn’t fit me, but only poor minds that need something to hold on…

I kept living…really living intensely…from being the ugly duckling always, to be an interesting charming young teenager…Being the ugly duckling has been a real advantage, allowing me to concentrate in what’s important in live, to concentrate in the inner…

I have never let anything happen around me that wouldn’t leave a trace in me. I felt in love with John when I was 17. He had the ability to make me laugh most of the time. We spent 4 or 5 years together. Wonderful years of sharing, learning and loving. We broke up friendly, and then, I went on a traineeship to Istanbul, for a complete year (1994 I think).

It is there that I remember myself for the first time, at nights, before sleeping, talking to “somebodyouthere”, whispering, telling my own thoughts, wishes, memories…in the dark of the night.

Did that “somebodyouthere” liked me so much that speeded up my life after that? Or was it just to happen as it did?. Could it have been the first contact I had with a sufi that introduced the changes from then on? That contact impressed me, but did not make me think at all of God. Only made me think of extraordinary people…

Tel

I need to find my way....

I have always liked being an “open book” for everyone around me. I have always been able to be…until a few years ago, when something so terrible happened…that speaking about it hurts not only me, but those who love me. I believe this is the reason why I thought writing here in English could be healing for me. Please, forgive me if I make grammar mistakes, or if I do not check the orthography, as it would slow down the speed at which my thoughts want to come out. I’m not English native speaker, but I think I can express myself quite well this way.

Why in English? A few days ago I opened a blog with a friend of mine. That one is in Spanish. And, mainly, it is not totally secret…

Like this one is ment to be. Secret, because noone that knows me will ever read it. This is the aim. Doesn’t matter who else will read it, as long as doesn’t know who I am, where I live, where I work…from this blog I am going to try to get rid of my story…

I dedicate it to all those that have been in my way and have left. To those who stay. To all those that at some point helped me, and to those who didn’t. To Agha, whose existance keeps me away from the deep fear of disapearing, but, above all, to David, who really loved me in the best way a man can love…and left early 2000. God bless you David. I will always love you. And to Lucia, my sweet daughter. Good bless you too and protects you.

Tel