I had a 4 days off for new year holiday and it felt goddam good.
That 4 days gave me spaces to breath, like really breath without anticipation of something waiting for me around the corner. It felt different from the previous holidays, when I took 10 days off to travel, discovering the unknown, then crying myself on the way back home, scared to be chained to responsibilities that was shoved my way, resposibilities ride my mental and drained my blood. Resposibilities I kept wonder, did those belong to me in the first place? Or I voluntarily claimed them to be mine?
Hmm, holiday looked more like a prison break before. Time to escape from the daily routine I talked myself to live in, mostly because it's out of my comfort zone. I thought, this what grew up meant, waking up to the fear of the unknown, fighting for a chance to prove myself's worth. Sometimes it's so uncomfortable, my hands turned cold and trembled, my mind went blank, what I knew was trying to hold my breath as long as possible, until I felt like fainting from dizziness. The next time it happened again, I would push myself to hold it longer and longer, until I lost the cue to be back inhaling the air. No wonder I cried at the end of the holiday. It meant going back to the version of life I thought I had to go through to become someone I aspired to be. And that version of life was something encouraged, by those pinterest quotes, by those unicorn leaders, by the whispering neighbours, by my partners, by me, against my better judgement that there's ways to achieve that without sacrificing my sanity and sleeping hours. It's hard.
That 4 days gave me opportunity to be myself, to listen to what I wanted and needed. I didn't feel the need to put my phone deep in the closet, a way to avoid phone calls or texts or emails. I didn't feel the need to runaway to an isolated place, somewhere out of reception, somewhere less crowded with humans. I didn't need a celebration, toasting my freedom of should haves and must bes. I was staying inside at home, waking up slow, grabbing a book and spending the whole morning flipping till the very last page. Digging food out of the fridge, having sandwich with a little bit of everything I found while enjoying the smell of freshly brewed coffee. I was lying still, staring to the sky, thinking how good it was to remember the sensation of air filling my lung, circulating blood to my brain, delivering warmth to the tip of my fingers. I didn't plan anything, except spontanious run to the grocery or a visit to the book store. I didn't obligage myself to be somewehere or with someone in a designed time. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't escaping anything. I was my own captain, embracing my guts and will. It felt good to return the faith to my own belief, letting myself took a chance on, well, myself.
I feel great. I feel like stepping forward. I feel like leaving 2019 and 2020 in the past, two chapters that extraordinarily complicated and exhausting and also precious. Two chapters that make me who Iam when I'm writing this.
What a holiday :)
