I’m back to a life I don’t belong in.
It was like any other day before the one week break, a corporate day full of corporate tasks and eight hours of work behind a desk. After work, I got stuck in traffic, ate cold dinner, and went to my therapy session.
And now, I’m back here writing, rethinking my day, rethinking how simple last week was when I was not bounded with hours, when I was not strangled by expectations that make me over-work myself to be competent enough to work in the biggest humanitarian organization in the world.
Last week, I took control of my life again. I chose what to do with my daylight hours and how to be productive according to my own schedule, and I was simply in control, which is major because I’ve been driving a car with no breaks for months.
Why can’t I do what I want? Why can’t I simply be? A lot of people take gap years, sabbatical, yoga retreats for self-development. Many people have the privilege to put a halt on their lives for a while; why can’t I?
I would leave and take a break from the labor market for a month or two, or three. In a different country and under different circumstances, I would do that. I have enough money to sustain me for a year; I can study quietly and work on my self-implementation and decide what to do with my hours accordingly.
I would read again. I would go back to the life of the 80s, the books and the movies and the music and the communism and the resilience and the cause, the one cause.
I would go back to being frivolous, light-hearted, free. I was always referred to as an “air signed” kind of person; even though I’m a water sign, I would go back to that. I would go back to being irrelevant, to being someone that exists for me and not for everybody and everything else.
Please don’t think that I am ungrateful, because believe me; I am not. I am so privileged with so many blessings that I don’t deserve. I am so grateful for all the things I wished for and had granted. I am so grateful for my life and my God, I am so grateful for my God. There are no words to describe how incredible my God has been, and I’m grateful for simply that.
But
Why can’t it be simpler? Why do we have to grow up?
“Growing up is what we call it when we feel like our parents can no longer protect us.” My therapist told me this today, and I’ve been overthinking. According to him, it’s when we can see ourselves living without our parents, without feeling our parents’ protection and security. How awful is that? That I might have reached this?