all I want to do is cry and write

I Hired a Contract Killer, 1990, Aki Kaurismäki

It’s been a while since I last cried because it’s been a while since I have been alone enough to be able to cry. I am not talking about being lonely, but more about being physically and spatially alone. For the past month, I have been surrounded by the constant presence of a relative or a friend. During the holidays, I was back at my mom’s two-bedroom house, where my brother and his wife also were staying, there just weren’t enough rooms for any one of us to be alone long enough to cry. Sure, the bathroom—what a sanctuary! My favourite place in any house I have ever lived in, but still not accessible enough for a good cry when you know three other people might need it at any moment.

To be honest, though, this absence of space has also made it impossible for me to consciously think about myself. There have been little to no honest reflections, no opening my notes app at 3 am because I need to express a feeling, nor moments where I stopped to think before making an impactful decision. Instead, there have been a lot of meaningless thoughts that seem to be standing still on the carousel of my mind, they pass by in a circle, always the same thoughts, always sitting still. They say nothing, they are ‘fill the gap’ phrases or ‘say what they want to hear’ answers. I think it is happening right now as I type, saying nothing worth saying.

Well, I cried. I thought about one reason to and then a lot more came flowing through. It wasn’t a sad cry if such a thing even exists, it was a necessary and liberating cry. It was a moment to collect all that’s been my life in the past few months and pick the good over the bad. It was a lot about the change that is coming and what a lot of it. The water that ran down my face suddenly gave importance to what I was living through, it stained permanently moments that I was going to watch fade away. Through those tears, I was regaining consciousness, I was reliving through instants and taking notes, asking questions, almost trying to learn about myself what I had thought was not noteworthy.

I have chickened out of self-awareness once again because it is always easier this way. I have switched back on autopilot, so it can take me wherever I am meant to land without having to worry about the bumps on the way. I count on it when I am asked what am I doing in Berlin or what I want to do with myself, I am running away once again, I am picking whatever is emotionally easier to deal with. And it is worrying that moving to yet another country is somehow easier for me than dealing with whatever it is I need to deal with (but this we will unpack another time).

The cry made me think about what I gave up, about what my life could have been like if I had stayed, if I had pushed through. I thought about the stability of the past years and the obvious answers that explained my future and cried about their loss. It made me realise how I am searching once again for all that I left even if I haven’t found what I went looking for first. I am missing a step, the one with my name stamped on it. By not crying, writing or thinking I am forever forgetting about who I am, then what have I done all that for?

Now I think I should add another paragraph to end this text, but I am already thinking about pleasing those who will read it and not if there are things I want to actually say. I am wasting space by typing these words carelessly, so I am gonna end it here because I hate wasting space and at least this I know about myself. Also, find time and space to cry and write, it’s good for you.