Last weekend I traveled to my home town to visit my parents and get a little break from life after some hard weeks of finals and so many school stuff to finish, it was a rainy but good weekend.
I have a longing for this house, this place and of course seeing my mom and dad is the ultimate goal, but this walls and this ground hold some of my most painful memories of growing up. I have a good relationship with my mom but with my dad is a lot more complicated, I guess is because we are very similar.
My teenage years were not the best, and my parents didn’t know how to deal with all my anger and ended up just putting more wood on the fire to the point of explosion. To tame my anger I did things that still today I fight myself on not doing, but it’s really hard to fight a habit made for relief, because indeed, it really felt like breathing again. Now days I am still very angry, a kind of fire that blooms whenever it wants and I don’t know the reason for it. My anger has always been a problem, especially since I don’t really mean what I say and what I do and end up breaking friendships or offending people I don’t mean to offend. I had people advise me to write about my childhood in a trial to remember where this anger comes from and I do write, a lot, not just about my younger years but about everything that crosses my mind, it’s like my scape goat, but that never seems to answer my questions, and it just makes me more angry with everything. Not knowing where I come from makes me wonder where the hell am I going, the roads are really blurry and shaky and I barely see a step ahead, and that is pretty scary.
My mom and I spend those days piecing together a puzzle and watching a series on Netflix that she is really into, is a detective series, she really enjoys those, I didn’t pay much attenttion because I was more entertained by the puzzle.
When it was time to leave, every part of me wanted to stay, or to take my mom with me and protect her from every evil thing in this world. But that also made my mind fight with itself since I have always felt a excruciating need to run away, far from here, to a place where nobody knew me and would never beacause I am tired of offering my heart and be delivered back just some bits and pieces of it. But I also wear my heart out of my chest in a way so everybody can see it and touch it and use it for whatever they need, it’s a blessing, but also a curse. I feel too much, see too much, cry too much. I feel like too much and when I don’t get that much back I crawl into my cocoon and feel as lonely as ever so the next day I can do it all over again.
Even though I was happy this weekend, I cried a lot. In the shower, to sleep, before sleep, whenever nobody was around to watch my swollen eyes. It’s always hard to go home, see the house I lived my entire life, and yet, barely remember anything of it.
The rest of the week was busy and painful. I had a weird pain in my lower back, and nothing would sooth it, it eventually went away but it was a little odd, I am too young to have back pain.
I wish you a wonderful week.
With love, Maria.
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