There’s this infamously cliche saying that goes, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.”
Well, I tried to do so, but I grew impatient so I guess that means I didn’t try hard enough.
I thought that as I grew older, I would have all these experiences that would make me mature. That’s true for everyone but so far for me it’s only up to some point.
Now, I have always perpetuated this cycle of self-resentment and self-blame but right now I am speaking truthfully when I say, without any doubt, that I am an idiot.
Why? Because I’m about to leave this new home to go back to a more familiar ground.
I’ve been didling about this for so long and, (just like the last time) everything was so rushed, that it didn’t occur to me how to keep my head leveled and to seriously consider my life in the future. This has lead me to see a slight miscalculation.
And for someone who seems like all she thinks about is her fate –this time I really messed up.
I forgot why I even made my sacrifices the way I did when I first started venturing out on my own. I forgot why i felt so selfless and unburdened by my choices because I thought I was being very considerate and doing the right thing.
What was really happening was that I said yes to a decision I didn’t make and had very little input on and just went on my little merry way as if I hadn’t already rebuilt my life from the ground up so many time before at that point.
And shamefully, I have the gall to admit that that is exactly what’s going on now. You’d think I would’ve learned from my past; but this stubborn little chit has no common sense whatsoever. I don’t know what’ll it take for me to learn my lesson, but beyond right now, I have no notion of what’ll transpire after my return.
Once more, I am running blindfolded with my shoelaces untied and scissors in my hands.
Of course, I could blame myself for being so light-hearted and negative. I could dwell on how I never take the right paths whenever my life depends on it and how I inch myself, closer and closer, to a life of suffering and unnecessary conflict.
I could list all of the wrong things I have done and how it has all badly impacted me and others; cry myself to a nightmare-ish sleep but none of that would really achieve anything. All that will do is make me feel even worse. (And that is not ideal when you have a flight in less than 24 hours.)
What I’m mostly feeling now is, the rollercoaster of emotions you get when listening to “Flight of The Bumblebee”. With such a callous persona I’ve developed, this is what aptly comes to mind.
It is hard for someone who has already, by societal standards, come-of-age to adjust to a foreign life where anything and everything could happen and suprise you out of nowhere but I think that some deep, unrelentingly promiscous part of me has been so underwhelmed and uninspired by all the things I have done so far in my new life that it didn’t stop to think of just how to cure my boredom and loneliness.
When you’re all alone, you start to think of things as if they are all that you have and will ever have.
Which isn’t true at all, had I persisted through, I would have made myself a lot of money and even would have found joy in a passion that I never even knew about.
I would have found a reason to stay put and launch my anchor down into my independence. Because that is what I have right now –all the freedom one could ever wish for.
I should honestly have no complaints to even speak of; but that is the problem with me. I always have a complaint. i always have someonething to cry about because I never had any experiences that prepared me for these basic things in life and now I ruefully wish for what I don’t have and what I may miss.
Even leaving has so much guilt and denial wrapped around it that I am already exhausted and just want this all to be over and done with.
I didn’t even manage to last one Christmas.
And not to mention, the people I will leave and how I carelessly disregarded their feelings without cause or purpose and how recklessly I impose myself even as we speak.
These people have been more than kind, more than generous and more than happy to accept me as one of their own, and as I am.
I am aware of how it was also I hard gamble and huge undertaking my arrival into their lives was. I felt like an interruption, one that was benign and a lot to take on.
I know that my issues are mine to fix, and that even if I dream and dream of how I am going to find someone who’ll desperately need me and love me unconditionally –I have to be realistic here –such things don’t come true. And in a way, because of that, I have to make myself more acceptable as company and acceptable to myself.
Which is insanely difficult if you’re a difficult person to begin with.
They say that you don’t need other people to help you get through your shit but these past months, even with the blessing and generosity of a job and some minor occupations, I feel as though I’ve been tip-toeing on eggshells because I can feel my ill-self inflicting me from every possible angle. Trying to poison me even further even if i had convinced myself that I had made so much progress already.
I could feel myself slipping.
I just know, that I can’t face all this alone. I need the circle that nurtured me and helped when I was in trouble. The circle that was urging me to come back before I even left. The circle that had so much going on about them that they could afford to spare me attentions that help in my making me feel less shitty and actually having me experience things I missed growing up.
Not to compare but here, I am treated like a princess. I do nothing and they ask for nothing and take care of all my needs and wants. They shower me with gifts and straighten my bended sides because I am the youngest and because they care for me.
But I need a special kind of attention. I need something that has always been elusive to me; the natural love and support of my own kin.
It was never given to me by either side (boohoo) and all my life I’ve been searching for a place where I can feel whole and needed.
Here, they might enjoy having me around, but they don’t need me here. Nobody even has spare time to entertain me any further than listening to me ramble on about my shit (which is more than enough; more than I could ever ask for) for five hours straight.
Because they have to rest. Because they have to breathe. They have to relax and enjoy their spare time not worrying about the pettiness that lived in their basement. I could never possibly expect them to give me the time of day (even if they do so willingly and without prompt) because they are simply to tired and I can see that. I know that.
They aren’t my immediate family (in fact they were complete strangers) and I was handed to them a broken package and they embraced me but that doesn’t mean I should take advantage of that and drive them to tolerance of my depressing tendencies.
They shouldn’t be the ones handling this.
At least, in the meantime, I could focus and trying to take care of myself by myself because I will be surrounded by people who are in need of me. I feel that if I redirect my efforts towards the problems of others, I can better seclude myself from what I currently am. And even if not all repeated experiences are the same, I am taking my chances here by trying.
Which shouldn’t be hard because I got what I wanted, right? Not really.
As with everything, there are several complications and one of them is the miscalculation I had previously mentioned.
Everything I know is toatlly flipped, and now i have to learn how to deal with the consequences of not being a more sensible person.
When I end my trip, I’ll see where I’ll have to go from there. Liberties have to be taken into account and I have to prepare myself for al that. It isn’t something that I enjoy or look forward to doing, but with all the same things going on and on, gaian and again in my life…you’d think I was a sucker for paint like some emotional, ditsy masochist.
Maybe I am. But that can be fixed I think. Or remedied.
I can escape this cycle for good and then I can finally go throught the normal, everyday problems of the common man and not worry so much about the problems that I have that I can honestly say are categorized into a “First World Problem” even if they keep me awake for hours on end and are frighteningly real and present; unlike my romantic fantasies of a life I don’t have the current capacities to acquire or even envision for myself.
And so for now, they’ll remain as what they simply are –fantasies.
When the time comes that I have the appropriate mindset to make them come true, I’ll just have to carry on with whatever comes my way. And that starts with my own buzzing; one that begins with making a trip halfway around the world once more.
~~ Greta ~~