So you might say that this is not enough to make up for all the drama, that this can happen to all of us, but this is just one small drop in a big glass of water representing the mess in her life. “My father’s eyes can be the coldest place on earth.” She was happy on her board, flying through the waves, away from all those eyes that looked at her somehow disappointingly. If I were to analyze her life, something broke in her self-esteem the moment she realized that, no matter what she did, her father (and all her family) will never be proud of her, will never care… She felt like she was not enough, not even in her own eyes. The only thing that she wanted with all her heart was to really be “seen” – as she was quite invisible for all the people she wanted to care for her, starting with her family. Why do we remember the bad things in our life with such intensity but we forget so easily all the good things that happen to us? You always imagine yourself in your bed, with a book in your hand and a lot of tissues around you. When you say “emotional story” there’s a small possibility for you to be referring to some positive feelings. Why is it that we can relate so easily to pain, to struggle, to despair instead of happiness and joy?
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