Friday, 22 May 2015

not really ok



So, I finished reading "Doctor Sleep". As usual, I started with a very casual pace, and then something in my head clicked and I couldn't stop reading. Every second I could spare from any other task (by then downgraded to mundane and secondary anyway) during the day was dedicated to it. I ended up reading the last 100 pages in a marathon between Berlin airport and the flight back home. Never before I was so grateful for Alitalia being the shameful joke it is and being delayed as usual.

Quite early in the novel there's a sentence describing the state Dan Torrance is.
"You take yourself with you, wherever you go. He pushed the thought into a mental closet. It was a thing he was good at. There was all sort of stuff in that closet."
It resonated with me. I kept a bookmark there and kept going back to it. Re-reading those 3 lines worked liked a charm on my mind. They didn't make me feel any better, but a little relieved. There! Here's somebody who can create a fictional character and give him words that fit so well on me but I can't find on my own. If only I could find a way to extend this small episodes of "fitting in" for longer and longer time!
I think my problem is that the closet doesn't lock completely and sometimes things come out without warning nor control.
But sometimes it can be a good thing, as long as you know how to handle it, which I don't.

Recently yet another anniversary passed by without me noticing it. It's the 2nd time in less than a year and I'm starting to worry about my memory.
It's my 3rd year in Milan, and in a few months I'll also celebrate the longest non-stop employment (Nokia is still the longest job to date, but there was the long gap back in Italy): ça va sans dire, as soon as I realized this happened and is going to happen, I immediately began to fret. The reason is always the same: I trick myself into believing that a change of residence or job profile will "fix" me, that if I move somewhere, anywhere really, things will magically sort themselves out.

So here...


Right here I wanted to write something deep and inspirational and meaningful and hopeful and positive. I don't know what the hell I wanted to write here, because I saved it as a draft and went on with the day.
And the day went downhill.

Dan is right, "you take yourself with you, wherever you go" and yesterday evening I was still painfully with myself: in the past 3 years I didn't solve the problems I hoped to solve. Sure, I've learnt a little bit more about them, and about myself, but that didn't really help me yesterday evening, when I once again sought refuge in the food; nor this morning, when I had to face the consequences of it.
I wonder whether a day will come when I won't be afraid of buying food because of the fear I'll eat it all in the moment I get home (which is what basically happened with yesterday groceries, all 35 € of it).
I wonder whether a day will come when I won't have to make silly excuse for not having sugar at home ("because I would and did eat it when left to my own devices" doesn't sound like something to tell your sister or anybody else wondering about lack of sugar anything in your flat).
I wonder I'll ever be, not fine, but at least a little bit ok, so to be able to appreciate what's and who's around me. 
And if I'll manage it before my mental closets explode once more.

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