According to my favorite astrologer, this was a week of facing my relationship with my mother. Or discovering the things I inherited from her, it being DNA or an attitude or a pattern. Ironically, it has been even more than a week since I’ve been trying to reach her. And we still haven’t spoke.
Apart from that, I faced a rather uncomfortable issue of not having enough money to go on a trip that I had planned long time ago. A trip to a beautiful city called Valencia. My first and rather desperate thought was to call my parents, and ask for the money, since I had already made a promise ot go on the trip, but had unexpected bills to pay right before. But there was no response. I tried calling last minute, and begging for help, but the only backup system I ever had was unavailable.
After two sad and quiet days of me sulking around in the office and in my flat, I finally gave up the trip. I googled all the advice on “broke and alone for weekend” and came up with a nice list of fun and useful things to do, like cleaning the appartment, finishing the scarf I’ve half knitted, reading a book and learning new things, applying for jobs in several countries, and rescuing my house plants. Writing this on Sunday, I have to say, the weekend turned out to be something very very different.
First I thought, it was only going to be a lazy Friday. I bought a bottle of wine and for the millionth time in my not such a long life, I started watching SATC. Probably Season 3, since it has always been my favourite. It was magical. Outside the sun was shining, but I was tipsy and drousy and had the curtains pulled on so I could watch, yet again, other people’s lives that I secretly wish for myself. I watched the series so many times, and still, this was the first time in my life that I cried during nearly every other episode.
I can’t believe I am actually saying this, but giving myself the permission to spend two and a half days drinking wine and crying over a series, opened a door to emotional healing. The thing I thought existed only in those books I never read.
It made me think of my mother. And my sitting, waiting, wishing for permission and instructions on how to live my life, how to think of my experiences, which ones to call successes and which ones to define as mistakes. My real mother is a woman who probably knows nothing of what’s in my head right now, but the mother in my head controls everything. And I’m an obedient little kid, waiting for approval from an imaginary friend.
I can’t say I became smarter or accomplished a lot this weekend. After all, the only tangible results that show after these two and a half days are a sweeped floor, some washed clothes and sore muscles from two evening runs I just had to go for in order to stay sane. My skin looks radiant from all the antioxidants in that bottle of red wine (or so I like to think) and my head is clearer on at least one thing: I only need approval from myself. Unfortunately, the house plants didn’t catch any of the healing effects.
p.s. Notes after a run:
- Quit smoking
- Go to a doctor
- Write seriously
- Apply for everything
- And never EVER give up on being yourself.