With this heat, the only time of day when it’s bearable to be active is early in the morning. I got up early-ish and went for a walk, wearing trousers with pockets because I didn’t intend to run. This meant that I could take my phone and take some pictures. I had my music and felt the urge to run, but only took a few strides here and there. It’s no use overdoing it, running every day for a week when I have never done so before, not even wearing proper shoes. It’s not worth injuring myself for this. Walking also gave me more time to really look at all the beauty around me and not just at the ground watching out for roots. It was lovely.
Back at the chalet, Mother was making breakfast. I wasn’t allowed to help or do any work today because it was my birthday. I miss ballet and felt as if it was slowly leaving my body, so I did a few barre exercises and stretches holding on to a chair. My body felt strange, stiff, foreign and fat. I haven’t taken such a long break from ballet for the last two and a half years. I’m not sure why I’m doing it now, but it seems a good opportunity. Franca recommended it and said it could be beneficial.
Afterwards, we had breakfast with freshly baked rolls, boiled eggs, salami, Nutella; all the things I like best (except honey). My parents had to leave later, so I was alone for a while. There is a big shooting match being held near here and Father wanted to go. I had no desire to drive in a hot car and wait in hot tents or wherever they went, so I stayed at the chalet, washed a few clothes and took a long shower, but also ate some more food. It was getting extremely hot again, up to 35 degrees. With all the windows open, we at least took advantage of the little breeze and dry air up here. It must have been worse down in the valley, or back home in the city. Nevertheless, the heat was oppressive. Just sitting still made me feel hot. I wrote and read a little in a psychology book, made lunch, read some more.
We had a late dinner and a short birthday celebration afterwards. I received a ticket for a concert by Florence and the Machine (and some gift cards). My birthday cake was a delicious chocolate hazelnut cake with marzipan carrots (my own addition).
After that, things went a little downhill. Father made a comment about my work and this is a sensitive topic for me. I went to university and studied a certain profession, but am working as a ‘lower version’ of this, with less responsibility and stress (and less prestige). I don’t feel ready to do the thing I studied at the moment, not strong enough. I would be constantly terrified and have no capacity to do anything besides work. I feel guilty towards my parents because I chose an ‘easier’ job and basically wasted my training. We have discussed it now and again and Mother accepts it and wants me to be happy, but even though Father said he does, too, I feel a strong disapproval or disappointment or just ‘not-getting-it’ from him. I was able to express myself during the argument, though, and while I was saying it, I realised the following: this is the best I can do now while keeping my health and sanity. I don’t have to be ashamed or feel that I haven’t achieved anything. I managed to finish school with good grades and graduate from university while struggling with being bullied, depressed and having an eating disorder. I found a job and am doing well in it while working hard on my body and personal development. I have achieved more or just as much as people with no such ‘issues’ who are further along the career path. I have worked and fought incredibly hard on all fronts and am continuing to do so. Just because I had to divide my efforts among several priorities and my results are slow to come doesn’t mean I’m lazy or weak.
And I realised that maybe I can make Father understand, or maybe I can’t, but that I can’t change him. Maybe both my parents will never be able to fully understand me. We talked for a long time. I also noticed that I feel ashamed to admit any weakness or dependence, even more so now that I am thirty. I hate to feel like a disappointment or burden or even asking them a favour. I’d wish to come to them, beautiful and rich and strong and happy, showering them with the results of my success. Ultimately, however, it all ties into the big theme of self esteem (or lack thereof).
I felt pretty drained after this argument and it was late, so I went to bed. I know the problem: I don’t like myself. I know the solution: learn to like myself. All I have to do now is find the way.