How many times have you ever said this?
I, who am a professional overthinker, have thought about it in different moments of my: when I was in places, in jobs, and with people who did not belong to me, but I never expected to find myself faced with this question here in too, finally with my boyfriend, Shreyank.
These were the first words that rang in my head on my firstnight in Toronto.
“It must be jetlag. Luckily I brought a box of Bonomelli Chamomile (italian brand) in my suitcase! "
One, two, three sleepless nights, and then some more.
At night I could not sleep at all: myabout the pandemic, the visa, the work had not vanished, they had come with me but had not yet synchronized with local time. Plus the guilt of course:
I kept my eyes wide open as my head tried to adjust to the new pillow Shreyank had bought from Dollarama, our "All for 1 dollar".
I've never struggled to fit in, why should I have trouble now? I have Shreyank here, we are together after a year apart, and now I am lucky enough to live in a country with a high quality of life and where I can sleep on a mattress higher than two centimeters (a reference to my mattress in Mumbai).
It all boomed. It was all amplified. My head felt heavy, I felt that thewere tangled in each other but I could not decipher them.
I used to watch outside of my window.
I looked at Shreyank's profile while he was asleep:
"I don't understand why he hates his nose, I find it really beautiful!"
Mandatorywhen you arrive in a new country is like a shock . You are frantic, you want to see outside.
But you are inside.
(After all these months of restrictions, when I got on a plane I really felt. I fly while the world is still, and seeing it from the clouds it still seems a to me. We humans can fly, and while we do it we watch a movie and eat, if this is not a privilege I don't know what else to call it.
Tourism has accustomed me to, to scrape countries on a map, to bar them from a list of places to see, nothing is too far away, if the layover fits well.
Check In - Check Out, you are on the other side of theand you don't even notice it. We buy the distance between countries, between continents, then we ask ourselves why we don't understand each other! We seem accessible.)
I could have used this quarantine as an entrance door, a beautiful waiting room, a. I could have literally isolated not only the virus, but my thoughts, rest, recharge. But I didn't. But one thing, this quarantine made me understand: .
But I am inside!
And, one more time:
Maybe outside is better. I think.
To tell you the whole truth, being here was a greatfor me, I really felt I had won a very tough battle, but to my great surprise I was already ready to plan strategies for the next fights.
I landed on November 3rd and on the 4th I already had the computer in my hands, I had ousted Shreyank from the hundredth hand desk he had brought from his old house and I immediately started.
Attach CV, cover letter, send, do this, come on, next, this is Easy Applu, click.
Thus I spent hours of my day, and in the evening I still could not sleep.
After 14 days I can go out. I was in seventh heaven! The first day of freedom I am ready at 7 am and I ask Shreyank to go and getoutside.
In the afternoon I meet with G., an italian girl I have met thanks to the, here in Toronto for my same reason. That was nice too.
The city looks like a. Shortly thereafter they would announce new restrictions.
It wasn't better outside.
More guilt, of course.
One of my favorite movies comes to mind, “” - and this quote “ ”: I feel this a lot because it is the moto (and agony) of my generation. Come on, I don't like to generalize, so I say it's my agony! (But I know that it's true for many other people too).
Shreyank works during the week and I started going for walks. I started tothe neighborhood.
It doesn't. I try to stay as much as possible in the parks, the squirrels remind me of the park in my city in Italy, where apparently a couple of American squirrels have exterminated the European ones!
But the, I don't feel that the city belongs to me.
(And I know I'm wrong in making comparisons. They are boring but the explosion in the heart that I felt once I arrived in Mumbai is incomparable...). I don't study, I don't work, I'm not a tourist.
The truth? The truth!
And I'm a littleof it. It is not easy to admit it.
I, like many, I imagine, live the weight of. I'm wrong, maybe, but it's the truth. I grew up in a generation and in a culture that rewards individualism, where independence is only for the individual, where you have to prove that you are special, that you are something, and successful. Where love is your enemy.
“" it's a foolish gesture for most.
"But what do you do there?" "What do you want to do?" "He has his life settled!" "Besides making sandwiches for Shreyank what will you do?"
I have heard all these questions for real and from friends, who I imagine care for me or who were giving me advice (yes, but projecting their ideals on me).
But Ithese things and they me.
To tell the truth I do many things, sometimes nothing, but who cares! I started this, for example.
, and I know I am here, and I don't want to be ashamed of it anymore: .
And that doesn't make me a less independent woman. This makes me Yasmin, a woman who has decided to start acalled family, where there are me, him and us. A woman who always has her dreams and goals, and no, it's not easy to balance everything, but by now you know it, I've been a tightrope walker for a lifetime.
When Ito myself, I began to enjoy all this uncertainty, I am open to risk, I am vulnerable - and all of this tastes like life, adult life, which is my present.
Comment this. What do you think? Do you agree?