My words probably won’t make any sense, still, I needed to sit down for while, even if it’s 1A.M. and the kids will be up soon, unless I’m lucky and they sleep through the night tonight.
It’s quite ironic, actually… For over an year I’ve dreamt about the day they’d sleep for more than 2 hours straight and, now that they do, I’m the one who can’t sleep. I choose to stay awake and take this time to myself. I have an urge to write, because I feel like it’ll help my organize my thoughts. I’m a pretty happy person, and that’s new to me.
Our lives have changed a lot in the last couple of years (mine and my husband’s). I have changed a lot too. And, although everything that’s happened to us is wonderful, I’ve lost parts of myself along the way. I don’t know who that red haired old woman staring at me in the mirror is. She is also super fat and has a terrible memory… there’s no way she’s me. I’m just the woman suffocating inside her.
I do not miss being who I used to be completely. There’s no me without my husband and children anymore, but I also don’t wanna settle for whom I’ve become. That makes me feel like an ungrateful bastard… specially when I read my own words. That’s why I’m a big believer in writing. It helps making things clearer for ourselves, in my humble opinion.
It all started when I was a kid… and went down all the way through my 30th birthday. I have always been terrified about the idea of going through labour. I never really thought I’d survive it. Anything beyond that moment just sounded too good to be true. Too good to be real life. That might be the reason why I sometimes stare at my daughters wondering if this is really happening to me. I was the girl who was never meant to be someone’s wife, I was used to being alone and I had accepted that… I had let go of all my dreams. I had no reason to get a good job or my own house. I had no motivation. It was just me in my world. And I believed that for so long that when my perfect family filled with people came knocking on my door, it took me a long time to realize it was real. I didn’t know what to do! What kind of music should I listen to? Up until that moment Damien Rice had been the soundtrack for my life. I got lost.
Even though there were so many things missing in my life before I had my own family, that was the life I was familiar with and that place was comfortable… well, maybe not comfortable, but there were no big surprises.
So, I survived all the panic attacks that came along the way, but I’m still learning how to live inside this butter commercial. Part of me believes people shouldn’t be completely happy. That’s something my grandmother always told us “don’t be too happy ’cause if you’re happy today it means there’s something terrible coming your way tomorrow” and I think she was ridiculous for saying that, but the damn thing got stuck in my mind for ages! I had several panic attacks growing up, which don’t seem to strike me anymore.
And now , here I am. I still worry about the world and blame myself for being so shallow, from time to time. But the truth is, in my small world, my small things matter… and I’m so lucky for living in it. There are no big issues here, I am not surviving a war or fighting a disease. I am just me learning to live with the disturbing thoughts in my head… and the happy ones too. I hope we all understand my grandmother was wrong from the way she spelled pizza to her pessimist quotes. It’s time for bed now.
Thank you for listening, Miss Internet.