I am a simple woman, born in Bucharest in 1971, spending there the time of my life. Only one year I lived in Cluj, another big city in Romania.
Alone my whole life, walking my own road of self knowledge and understanding.
Being diagnosed with schizophrenia when I was only 21, without any guilt or delusions or hallucinations, losing therefore all my civil rights.
Going further the stream of my life, hoping, praying, imploring, resisting solitude and poverty.
Now facing the weaknesses induced in my body after so many years of tortures.
I am sad to admit that my father was right when he said that no one is interested in the truth. I understood that the society has unwritten rules stating lies in “cases” like mine and I was praying and begging in vain for life. They just lie that I am insane or that I had some kind of psychological defect that led others to reject me. I continue to say and believe that I am right that it was not true whatever they invented about me. It seems that people think that persons like me made some mistake in the past or that they don’t know how to connect with others and have some power in the society – money, work, family – but the truth is that I was forcefully isolated and everyone rejected me although my words and thoughts were always good and sincere. I always disliked gossip, therefore I could not mix with others, have fun and some friends…I was only a pure heart under storms.
I loved work and life itself very much. I never imagined that others have their evil thoughts about me, I don’t understand why some people imagine evil things about pure persons like me, I never imagined evil about others and I hoped that others could see the good instead of evil. It seems that I was wrong because I was myself in chains, it seems that many people have the tendency to trust and believe evil stories about others (and they know nothing about those persons) and they are reluctant to imagine the good in others or to believe in good stories. They bury those good stories in a few fairy tales for children. I did not lack the sense of humor and I could truly enjoy living, I cannot understand why they did this to me almost 30 years…
Now after 28 years of solitude and 7 years of complete isolation I lost a great part of my normal ability to communicate but I still want a child, my own child, more than life, like I always wanted, although they lied to me my whole life that the truth will be said and I lost a part of my left leg in a suicide attempt.
I lost my relatives, I was imprisoned without the slightest guilt my whole life, I was treated and slaughtered like an animal, they always took my personal things (clothes, journals, photos, etc.), which is very stressing, I lived in a noisy environment since 1989, I was smacked violently even in my adult age, etc. I went in vain with my complaints and requests to any kind of governmental or non-governmental organization for 20 years, I suffered many physical pains and somatic diseases, improperly treated by medics, lacking money etc. But my soul was always good. I am only a slave, if you can accept my blog posts like that is good for me. Anyway great thinkers or artists in history were only slaves obliged to commit suicide, or others in modern times had tremendous success being very poor, suffering, being treated as psychiatric patients. If my blog is not interesting this is another true and normal fact. For me it was only a horrible concentration camp since 1984 when I was only 13. I know that others are lucky their whole life and this is why they dislike those like me, but I am aware that if my poems were good they would have been accepted and they weren’t. In fact I wrote almost 6 years poetry in vain. So I started to write these thoughts on this blog, which is easier, although I admit that my English is not perfect. If you can accept me for what I really am I will be a happy hostess here.
And if it happens to you to stop by my thoughts on this blog, please do call me Cristina. My middle name is Monica but I dislike it for different reasons, I will not tell you the whole story. What puzzled me when I started blogging and writing on different sites is that people always called me Monica, although no one called me like that in the past, even after signing specifically as Cristina…another WHY? Why are some people enjoying to annoy others who did nothing wrong?
Many are looking for curriculum vitae or public achievements, which are not allowed to schizophrenics at all. Although the background or the psychiatric past should not hinder artistic development (there are many examples) I couldn’t really achieve something in this area in 6 years, I was never really published (I will not tell the whole story) and I understood I am not gifted. I simply stopped writing poems, I had only a few visitors on my blogs or on different sites. Maybe I was more gifted in writing haiku than poems, maybe I will write again from time to time.
My poems were published in three Romanian poetry journals, in the Indian poetry journals Conifers Call and Bizz Buzz, in a Romanian haiku anthology, a poetry anthology in Romania, Off the Coast quarterly, Bewildering Stories, Up the Staircase, Wordgathering, The Barefoot Review. My haiku appeared in Ploc!, Asahi Shimbun, Sketchbook, the Romanian magazine Haiku, a bilingual haiga anthology, Notes from the Gean, Multiverses, Daily Haiga, Ardea and Mainichi Daily News. I was awarded the Distinguished Work Prize in the 4th Yamadera Basho Memorial Museum English Haiku Contest.