CW52: Farewell, 2023

THE OUTFITS

Day 1: Xmas day. In the south of Italy, where I am from, we tend to celebrate the 24th much more than the 25th, so Monday was just a nice lunch with my mom, dad, and grandparents. The 24th was stressful, (as I mentioned above) I tend to find important dates too big for my little heart to take and I often end up disappointed or too anxious to enjoy anything. I am a bit of a control freak when it comes to chilling.

There’s also the added element of having been an emigrant for the past 7 years. This means that I must make sure that every interaction with my family is incredibly meaningful, there must be no boredom, no tension. As you can imagine, this is not a S.M.A.R.T. goal to set.

I enjoyed just existing with my family, I felt joy because I was not looking for it, because I allowed myself to be just fine.

[*ndr. smart stands for SPECIFIC, MEASURABLE, ACHIEVABLE, REALISTIC AND TIMEBOUND]

Day 2: WHAT A DAY! My boyfriends’s family was having a boardgame night and one of the guests was my boyfriend’s highschool pal who I have considered my nemesis since highschool. He is like me in many ways, but also so fervently annoying that I actually get anxious around him. We did not have a good relationship in highschool, for plenty of reasons that I should get over, but mostly due to his huge ego. So when he told me he was maybe moving to Edinburgh to pursue a master of philosophy form UOE, I actually felt a bit sick.

My former home being walked all over by this person I don’t like, going for a career in academia that I wanted to be mine but did not believed in enough. Other than feeling like I am being punished by a superior being, I also felt an ache of missing Edinburgh. the thing is, when I was there I was missing Italy. I am always missing home, leaving the places I love for places I was longing for.

But what if the love I have for “home” is just the act of longing?

Day 3: I met up with an old friend, who will - I think - eventually read this, so apologies if this makes you uncomfortable.

My friend comes off as sure, capable, charming. I, on the other hand, feel like i’m never enough for people, I always want to make sure I answer with the words I think they would like to hear. It’s an exhausting exercise, because sometimes I cannot know what people want to hear. So I demonise myself for not being an entertaining conversation partner, for fooling myself that my way of experiencing the world could be interesting enough.

This is a construct I have built throughout the years, and I know it is not true to a certain extent, but at this point this convinction is so deeply rooted within me that it taints all of my interactions, is it evident? Does it make me offputting? I think so, but what do I know….

Day 4: we were meant to go out for food and a concert, but the food took so long we didn’t make it to the concert.

This day was filled with thoughts overspilling from the days before. Before you read the rest, please note that the first part is about my nemesis, the second about my good friend.

I am bitter with people who are too self-confident, especially when I see this as having an ego. Obviously I’m not completely rotten, and I know confidence in one’s self is essential, but some people - it seems to me - are able to succeed because of their cocky ability to centre themselves as the hero of their own story. Maybe it’s the catholic in me, but I have always valued a degree of humbleness in people.

I am most inspired by friends who are sure of their place in the world but that are capable of recognising there is room to grow.

Over the past few days, I have started to accept that I am not heroically humble, rather I am just too self-deprecating for my own good. I know this is too vulnerable, but it is the end of the year so please allow me a moment of self-reflection.
The SWOT analysis I so eagerly conduct when thinking about my skills is unhelpful, because I get stuck on what I can’t do, on what I am afraid of. The rest of the world gets ahead, trying their hardest, and I lock myself in criticism and fear. This happens with English too. I have been so afraid of having lost my English over the past three months that I am now afraid of talking, of writing. I am obsessing on every world I type. I don’t want this to become a new fear.

Maybe I should take notes from my nemesis (I’ll keep regarding him as such) and forget about what could go wrong.

I know what I can do and I will pursue my useless endeavours, maybe 2024 will be the year I am kind to myself.

Day 5: Thursday was hard, for many complex reasons I do not want to share. But I felt so tired of overthinking everything, so I tried to not let that affect me too much.

My mom and I started watching the expanse, which is really good, and I liked having a rest day after a week of family functions.

I know I always seem to have something up with me, dear readers. I hope you’ll be along for the journey, because I want to be neutral: I don’t want to strive for unachievable happiness, but I also don’t want to let my doubts define me.

I am nostalgic for primary school Vittoria, larger than life and joyful, ambitious but kind. I want to live my life in her honour!

THOUGHT OF THE WEEK:

why must good things hurt me? (this is about my lactose intollerance).