Alena M. (IEI)

I feel time in different ways: wasted time I feel with regret — discomfort begins inside me, I have lost time, I could have done something and did not. Sometimes I feel how time stretches.

For a year and a half I was apathetic — I do not remember what was happening then, I just got up, ate, drank, slept. Everything passed as if it were a single day. Sometimes I feel that a minute passes quickly, and sometimes it goes very, very slowly.

I can live in different rhythms.

The most important thing about time is that I walk my own path, and no one touches me.

I want to do everything calmly; I don’t like it when I am thrown off.

If I am rushed, I lose control… I will do it when I do it! Don’t rush me!

For every action there is an optimal time. If you take a step at the moment when it needs to be taken, that step will bring maximum benefit. If you perform the same action at the wrong moment, the result may be exactly the opposite. I very often feel this moment.

And sometimes I feel how an event is literally in the air: it is close, not yet fully real, you have not quite felt it yet, but it must happen, and you sense it internally.

Every event, action, even every feeling has its beginning, duration, and completion. I can hear the development of an event in time: whether it will last a long time yet, or whether it is already coming to an end.

I constantly feel that everything is changing, developing.

It is impossible to remain still without developing — neither materially nor emotionally. One must constantly change, change, change.

One must leave the state of immobility and move forward.

Above all, there must be some kind of inner development in people, especially in those close to you.

Something unclear, blurry—images: a tree or something else, a birch bent over, something resembling something else, some kind of whisper among the trees. I’m in this state almost every day.

Before, when the atmosphere at home was heavy, I had a feeling that there was nothing ahead, that there was emptiness, and I didn’t know what the meaning of my life was.

<...> My mother lived abroad for several years and returned far from being in a good mood. I simply “picked up” her energetic state and walked around in her mood for about a year and a half. The state was such that I didn’t need anything, I didn’t care about anything at all. And it turns out that the reason for my states was that my mother came back with this mood, and it transferred to me. Now I can “separate” myself from other people’s moods—my mother lives in her mood, and I live in mine.

At home there were constant arguments—pressure, pressure, pressure—and I walked around completely drained, I didn’t need anything. I would just come home, sleep, and not even understand where I was.

Once I came home and said, “I want to go to a seminar...”
My mother said, “You have your graduation ceremony, you have to be like everyone else.”
I replied, “I don’t want to be like everyone else, you understand, what matters more to me is that I’ll be there! At the graduation everyone will drink and dance—I’m not interested in that, I have other interests. I need to receive good energy from people.”

My mother wouldn’t hear of it: “You have your graduation ceremony, you’re not going anywhere, you’ll be like everyone else.” It came to hysterics, I was shouting: “I don’t want to! What’s the point, what kind of memory is it—to get drunk with friends, when I could be at a seminar, in a good environment, and my inner state would be much lighter.” My mother never understood that.

But at the seminar people are kind, ready to help each other, there’s no falseness in their eyes. When you look at them, they’re happy to see you—sincerity. Right away some kind of calmness appears inside, kindness toward people. I feed on this and try to pass it on to others. You want to do something, you want to live (yes, that happens too). And when people shout—it makes you not want to live at all. Everything just gets so tiresome—you want peace!

I can easily picture any image in my mind—whatever is needed (from the past or from the future). It can be sharp, clear, and specific. On my inner screen.

I constantly see “images” of the future, and for me this is a normal thing. For example, I’m riding on a bus, I look at a woman and see an “image”: the woman gets off and a girl takes her seat. And that’s exactly what happened—three women got off the bus, and a girl sat down in the seat of that very woman.

Everything that I first see in “images” in my future then happens in real life. In the future, I create what I want to create. The future is much brighter than the present.

<...> Often there is anxiety inside, sometimes a feeling of anxiety arises as if out of nowhere, for no reason, when “nothing yet foreshadowed trouble.” This feeling gives no peace, keeps you tense and waiting for something. After some time it becomes clear what caused this feeling, because some situation appears that is internally connected to the feeling of anxiety.

If someone shouts at me or speaks in an irritated tone, I want to shout back loudly—anger builds up inside.

Before it was like this: they’d shout at me, and I’d go around the same way—arguing, snapping at people, ready to tear everyone apart. I could shout easily too, even to the point of hysteria. And what kind of mood or desire to do anything can there be then?

Every time, there is hope of finding something to latch onto. It will be dangerous, it will be difficult—but I will latch onto somebody nonetheless. Even if it’s just a fly, I will still latch on and claw my way out of this difficult situation.