Crawling

Sometimes I like to get up earlier than my husband just to spend some time by myself. After almost four years together, there are some things that I like to keep hidden from him, just for the habit of having some things for my own. One of these things is the pile of paper that I’ve gathered since the late 2000’s containing a lot of personal bullshit which I called “Penseira”.

I have written here before about these journals I used to write, but I haven’t ever gone as deep into one of them as I did this morning. And here’s my reaction to my 2009 version written down in that diary - in English, as they used to be written to prevent any of my relatives from reading them.

What I like most about these diaries is how open I was about my feelings. There was no judgement about what I was supposed to feel or not, I just felt it. Now I either struggle to admit or to understand what I’m feeling, let alone to put it on paper! (Well, I’ve been trying - otherwise this blog wouldn’t exist). But in that time I’d write mostly about everything. Small details with names, colors and pictures. The only problem I see here is that everything was too much.

Going through those pages I could sense how much those things would get to me and make me extremely sad or extremely happy. I was in a constant hysteria and my emotions were like a time-bomb. And to top it off, I had come to a point where I’d do pretty much of everything to date some boys who were much less than I could see at the time.

That was the year before I started university and it was almost erased from my memory, but reading the “articles” I realized how determining that year would be to me and my personality: I made a transition from dazzled and naïve to attentive and joyful. 2009 was the year when I went to most parties and hangouts, when I dated most boys, when I cut the cord from my second group of friends who were leading me in a direction which was not the best for me and when I started to teach.

By all this I can only conclude that despite of all the issues that I clearly had - and here I leave the question “why was I like that? Why have I always been different?” - I could get along better than I expected. I’ve lived the life I wanted the way I could, also considering the amount of shit that came afterwards. I’m thankful to myself for being so jolly even being so hurt all along. 

Wow, I even had to have a break at writing at this point because this last sentence hit me like a rock. It’s so good to finally have this caring look upon my old self and being able to see the silver lining in the whole thing - instead of being so mean and judgmental He was the legitimate owner of the quote “the pains of being pure at hart are not pains at all”.

I’d never imagine that I’d be here eleven years later writing a text about it from an iPad in my own apartment where I live with my husband (making a hot and beautiful couple) and two perfect dogs, having two great jobs after an international trip and having had sex with way better men. Well, what can I say? I’m just living the dream.