Skip to main content

Turning Point

The day after is never easy. Even when I know that this is the best for me, and for her.

I try to explain to my puffy red eyes that all of this will pass. I can see all the changes the time did to me. Some wrinkles arond my eyes that were once happy. Some spots gained with all those  summer vacations. It would have happend anyway, even if my life had been smooth.

I can do it, I tell myself.  At this point, there’s no turning back. It's gone.

I look through the windows, It's still early, and I make some coffee. Espresso, medium roast. The day outside is absolutely normal, as it always was. It's not hot or cold, but really warm, which is so nice. In times of hard emotions, it's good that other variables are mild.

I pick up some LEGO  bricks on the floor that my daughter forgot last night. I settle down on the confortable sofa, seeing the new desk, that I painted in pink. All my old furmiture reuphostered. At this moment it is all I can afford.

How I changed in the entire process, I start to think.  A year ago, I suspected that I could survive on my own, but I was afraid to fail. What if things got worse, instead of getting better? Would I regret all that I had thrown away? Happily, I decided to take a chance, and the result was game changing.

I play with the small blocks. I like Lego, and the ideas that it represents. You walk thought the store and can buy some boxed sets with a manual inside. But I really like the store section where you can choose the size and colour that you want. Slide my fingers slowly through the pieces. I realize the multiple possibilities for them.



The society wants you follow the rules.

Going to the University - check.
Have a good job with a good paycheck - check.
Wedding - check.
Kids - check.

But I insist on having it my own way. All this time, nobody told me that happiness and fulfilment also matter. I can choose outside the box.

So this is not a conversation about how everything happened and about all the reasons that led to my divorce. Maybe we can talk about this in another day, with another good coffee.

What I want to leave here is the record of what we can become after a bad experience. I don't know why we let the things get hard before we take action. I just know that it's always the losses that lead us to gains. You need to put the sand on the fire to get that beautiful and delicate murano glass.

Failure. Rebirth. Moving on is always the best idea.

I slowly stretch myself. It's better to eat something.

I think of old dreams that I stopped dreaming. Learning English definitely, maybe Italian….learn to sew and dance, traveling the world. Maybe another university course. I give a hopeful sigh, I still have time.

Three years have passed since that lonely day on my new home. It was my turning point. Now I know that was the best thing that could happen to me.



If I could have a sneak peak of my future in that day, I would doubt my eyes that I would be better than ten years before. That I would discover love that heats up and that is absolutely unconditional. That I would make new friends. That I would take a summer course at Yale and I would start writing a blog. I wonder what’s next.

There is an old proverb that says life will be complete only if you have a child, plant a tree and write a book. If writing a blog is suitable, I will add one more check to my list.


Today, I laugh at all this, remembering those distant sad things.

Comments

  1. I thank you for your trust in us in sharing such an intimate part of your life. You told a difficult story beautifully, and we're glad you came to Yale.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Two Castles

In past years, society has been grappling with the structure of the traditional family in context of recent social advances, such as same-sex marriages and the adoption of kids by these couples.  But, when it comes to family, we need a more profound and significant perspective. We can’t only look at the skeleton, but we must reach the heart: How are the boundaries and trust created among the individuals of this important circle. One view is given by the memoir The Glass Castle, written by Jeannette Walls, where she beautifully show us her feelings about her relationship with her parents and sibilings, and the way she survived being raised without bonds of love and care. On the other hand, the poem “Family Castle”, written by Nancy Rakovszky, bring us the contrast of a protective and loving family. Nancy in her “Family Castle” enchants us when she speaks not only to our mind and emotions, but also explores our senses in describing the ideal family. In the stanza “Our fires will...

Sacha

When I was six, the world seen from my garden was really, really amazing. I lived in a small house in the suburb, in a calm place, hidden from the rest of the world. I remember that our house was very simple, like a shoebox, which I could easily reproduce in my drawings. With a little bit of imagination and a large box of colored pencils, I used to change those boring white walls for a much better bright yellow facade and red doors. My garden was narrow, encircling the whole wall that separated our house from the street. In the spring, we had flowers of different colors and sizes. You could see ferns, azaleas, daisies. My favorite was the azaleas. With small flowers, formed by five petals of pink color, I used to play a silly game with them called daisy game while picking off one petal of a flower, and repeating alone to myself “he loves me ... he loves not”. Smart as I was, I knew that if I started with he loves me, I would always win the game, even knowing nothing about ...