This morning I was having breakfast with a friend of mine. We both came back in our Country for holidays. She has been six months in Berlin and now she will start a new researching project in UK. As long as we were talking about life’s projects I couldn’t stop myself from asking if I was doing the right thing; if I was following a good project or if I messed it up in name of freedom and love. When I first arrived in UK my ideas were clear: find a good job regarding my studies, settle down, have the luck to meet a great guy and start a family. Then if possible moved back to my lovely, amazing Country. I have to admit that I reached most of them in less than 2 years. I have a good flat, I have some money (or at least more than when I began my adventure). I learnt a lot about life and being independent. I have a good job but still I need to reach the right one for me. I have an amazing boyfriend and to you, dear readers, it could sound a perfect matching. But here, at home, in my little bed with the pictures on the wall, I start wondering how much it cost and still costs me. I gave up on postgraduate courses ‘cause I needed money and I couldn’t coop with the idea of living with my family or another family just to save some cash but ever starting my life. I have a great man next to my side but I lost my parents trust. Apparently, they are too worried and scared of the unknown. The question then is clear: is it fair to let fears affecting our lives? I guess that being scared is natural and extremely human. I guess that for parents is even deeper this feeling. When we were babies they woke up in the middle of the night to check if we were still breathing, later on it was about falling from a bike and suddenly it became a bigger fear day by day: will my little baby be hurt by some bullies or is he going to have a heart broken? Until one day the major fears come real: is my little kid walking down the right lane?
Right now I found myself in the middle of jungle. I walked inside few months ago when I chose to keep my barista job to be able to move in a good area in a great flat in the town centre. Then I chose to share my happiness and my relationship with my parents (bad move probably). Finally I chose to punish myself for the unhappiness of the others, thinking I am the cause.
I spent the last months in this dark sweaty scary painful deep forest. I blame myself for not be able to react; change my safe job for an unsecure, probably less well paid, but better one. I chose a passionate overwhelming love over my parents ideas and values. I betrayed them, I disappointed them, I run too much and too quick.
Still in the unreasonable state of my mind I am in front of a life decision: stay in UK; find a great job; keep my love close to me through the days and nights, the Good and the Bad; save and finish my project.
On the other side: go back to my own country; find a job; rebuilt the trust my parents had on me; hope that my love is going to wait for me; give up on my project.
In both cases I will hurt someone and most of all myself. But I need to find peace within myself as well and it is not possible if I know I made someone else suffering.
As I asked you before: is it fair to let the sense of guilty affecting our choices?
Honestly, dear readers, I don’t know.
They said Love is over anything else. But in one of my previous articles I was asking myself until when Love is Love. Hurting my own parents is it love? Give up on my relationship for someone else peace of mind is it love?
When does it stop the love for myself and start that one for the others?
I feel like I have an unfinished business with both sides. I tried a lot of ways out from this jungle but it’s more like a swamp: the more I try to get out, the more I move, the more I dig my own tomb.
Days and months of thinking and the answer is on my right ankle. Last year I made a tattoo with three leaves of oak tree: symbol if family. That’s my biggest value in life and I promise myself to always fight for that. So I guess the right thing to do for me is not to lose my family. I have to do it for my parents, my grannies and my brothers and sisters. I have to fight until the end of my breath for my family to have the strength of fighting for my own one, one day.