Reflections around the clock

Let’s start from the basics. I thought that I could have a journal that looks nice, from an aesthetic point of view at least. I have always wanted to write something, a blog maybe, where I would be able to insert pictures or songs, funny memes or gifs, you know, I would like to make it more alive. Will see if I can insert some YouTube link in the text, though I don’t see why not. For now, Mercury retrograde is messing up with my font; it keeps on changing it, so I have to go back and forth and correct its mess. Mercury, don’t be a pain in the unseen. 😉 Oh, great: I can even use emojis! Clearly not a journal kept by an actual teenager. They would know it all, they always do.

So, was thinking about choosing a picture etc based on the current mood at the time of the writing. Why this one, you might wonder? Well, January is just not my month; it has never been actually. I have recently come to discover that this is said in my numerology chart as well. You go figure it out! It wasn’t only my personal impression then. Why do I have it with poor January? Maybe because it is the first month of the year, it is about new beginnings, the burden of a whole new year ahead of you, heavily felt by me every single year since I can remember. January stays for the year just the same as Monday stays for the week. Monday, however, is lucky: it bears only the weight of other 6 more days after it. January, my dear, you are a life path number 1 for the year to come. You open the unknown road for the months ahead. And even if I have never been a great long-term planner, I still tend to begin a new year with a list of good intentions, new ideas and projects I would like to bring into life for the next 365 days. Yes, January, I feel you. I know how it must feel like to care the burden of such responsibility. Being the leader, especially if unrequested, born with the leadership on your shoulders and without anyone bothering to ask you if you at least are up for the challenge: sucks. Yes, exactly!

Because I totally understand both your unlucky position and feelings about it, I am here to apologise to you, dear January, for not always appreciating your efforts; for not always respecting you. And most surely for almost never liking you. A tad of a hyperbole the last one, let’s just say that we haven’t been the greatest friends up to now and that I am generally released when you are gone.

Now, don’t get me (completely) wrong here. Maybe you are not on my soft side of the heart because you are a bit like December, whom I love – sorry and don’t be jealous -, but on the contrary. Explanation needed here: while December is a time to reflect upon the old year and upon self, you are the month to reflect upon the year to come and the future self of ours. And, you know, while past cannot be changed, so there is no reason for us to hold a grunge on it, there are a lot of expectations from the future, especially when the past was not as expected. See now what I mean? It is not your fault, dear January, it is our fault, mine. I use/used to come to the baby year with tones of expectations, which, inevitably, have always put quite a significant pressure on my own shoulders – burden that I was more than happy to place on you. Ok, ok: I am sorry. Am I forgiven now? Pretty please.

But you know what, January? I have done loads of shadow work during last year, you know, the covid-19 one – not that you are covid-free, but no worries, I swear I am not blaming you for this one! In fact, I am not blaming you for anything anymore, I promise. The different tiers, the multiple lockdowns – how many were they? I lost count. I was saying that the different tiers and varied lockdowns and the breakup from A. pushed me hard into work. I took shifts after shifts, trying to numb myself as much as possible as not to think about him, and because there wasn’t much that I could do anyway, from a social point of view.

Somewhere in between working like crazy on long night shifts, between the driving back and forth from work of 1 hour each, and the days spent sleeping: I don’t even understand where, when I managed to find any time for the shadow work. But I did, apparently. Because one metaphorical day I woke up and I just knew a few things. I had understood all of a sudden that expectations are a silent but sure assassin of any dream, any wish. That they make you dependant on them, they make you live projected in the future, while you are totally missing out on the present, on the here and now. That expectations tie you up, they turn you into a rigid carcase of yourself, while life is fluidity, flow, creativity, coming up with last-minute-solutions, adapt, adjust.

Freeing myself of expectations came as an enormous surprise to myself first – and I imagine to my friends as well; they have known me for years and years, for decades (yes, I am getting old, but so are you, reader, so are you), so me letting go of expectations?! Hard to believe, as in hard to die kind of thing. Control freak as I used to be (and a particular friend says that I haven’t completely given up on this bad habit; well, I guess Rome wasn’t built in a day…), letting go of expectations has been my biggest realisation in 43 years. Not even kidding. As big as the other realisation: that I do not need anyone to make me happy, because happiness comes from within. Right? I know that everybody knows it, I knew it too, theoretically. How many of us can honestly say that they actually live by it? Honestly? Cross your heart?

For releasing the expectations, I am grateful to A. It’s not that he taught me that, not on purpose. But by triggering me in ways I didn’t even think were possible. A. was like a damn mirror placed in front of my closed eyes, which were then forced to open up as big as my almond shaped eyes would allow, and look close, closer, the closest to the Roxana things I was aware of, but didn’t want to admit, maybe because too lazy to start the changing process. Ok, of some of them I was even proud. Damn proud. Damn loud proud. Never said I was a saint…

For the happiness bit, I owe it to myself, I guess. I took a holiday to Italy last year in October. And there I discovered I can make myself happy, I don’t need a partner to come with me on holidays. Wait, this didn’t sound quite right. It is not about needing a partner to go on holidays with, but about my inner believe that this would have made me happy. Because, of course: age. Prejudice. Mentality – Eastern European one of my generation, when the education was done so differently than nowadays. When you, as a woman, were supposed to be and live your life in a certain way – get married, have kids, go on holidays together. You know, that kind of old dusted mentality. And I might be still young and open minded, but old habits – old prejudices – die hard. Oh boy, if they die hard! If ever they die…

So those were the expectations inflicted upon me by generations of in-the-box mentality, rigidly and forcefully put into my mind. Not to mention that, when I had met A., I was in the middle of a woman’s middle-age crisis – I ‘m pretty sure such a thing is a thing – pun intended. Obviously, our middle-age crisis comes at a way another age than men’s. I wanted family. Children. And I was 41 when I met him. Can you hear the tik-tok from there too? ‘Cause it sounded so scary and loud constantly on the back of my mind, running in the background just like an app on your mobile. Constantly saying: 'Roxana, you need to get married and have a baby now! Right NOW, do you bloody understand it?' Not a pretty way to go around living your life with such an annoying inner voice drumming in your brain night and day.

There was a desperation there. Gigantic as desperation only can be, especially when supported by the well-known and not welcomed tik-tok. A desperation that drew me into co-dependency. A. could not have kids. No, not like the Duke of Hastings, at least not as Daphné thought it was 😊. His culture doesn't allow him to have children outside marriage. And well… I am still officially married. So, a no brainer there. All logic, so all fun and games, but brains and desires are not famous for going hand in hand, right?

The co-dependency transformed me into someone always waiting for A. And by waiting, I mean in everything. Subconsciously, I had put him on a pedestal, which is what every person in love does. But, in doing so, I forgot about myself. I forgot to focus on me, to have fun by myself, enjoy my own life as if he wasn’t even there. This is what I should have done instead of waiting for him. This waiting induced me to think, since I wasn’t enjoying my life as a normal person would have done, that only he could make me happy. Hence, if we were supposed to meet up and he couldn’t make it, instead of going out with my friends etc, I would be bitter both towards him and myself. Not healthy, nope.

Then Italy came along. And I had fun. I drove loads in my rented 4x4 car, brand new and a type of car I had never driven before. Moreover, after 2 years and something I had been driving on the left side of the road, as opposed to the European style. I was terrified when I collected the car from the pick- up point at the airport. But I was fine driving it afterwards. Enjoyed it. Drove it for 800 miles in 6 days – not too bad, isn’t it? So, I realised that I could make myself happy. I could take myself on a holiday, to a restaurant, in different cities, I could drive the car myself. There is no need for anyone to make me happy. Happiness comes from within just as much as beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.

Once realised that not only it was not A’s job to make me happy, but mine and mine alone and nobody else’s, things really took a drastic turn. Not drastic as in dramatic, on the contrary; drastic as in quick -100-miles-per-hour kind of.

All righty, enough girls talk for now. Stay blessed.