Happy news

Today’s entry is probably one of the most specials… My best friends, my soul mate, my sister and one of the loves of my life is in labor. I’ll kill to be by her side right now, sharing this moment. I have told you about her multiple times… She got married 5 years ago and since then she’s been going thru so much… She has been suffering anxiety attacks and depression. I’m honored to say we fought that together. 

I remember when I first realized I needed professional help but was so scare to go to a consultation… I told her and I didn’t even asked her, she said she’ll pick me up from work. And so she did. We walked together to the doctors, we waited patiently, she held my hand and waited for me outside. She’s been every step of my recovery process.

One of her sources of pain and anxiety was having a baby. Today she is having a baby. All of her fears are gone; she is exited and can’t wait to see his little face. Neither can I. So far she is only 6 cms, epidural on and trying to get some rest. I didn’t call and I’m trying not to disturb every 5 minutes but it’s really hard. 

I pray for her and her baby to be Ok. I know they will be but just in case I made sure she understood I was by her side and that I loved her. It made us cry, but those are happy tears, well deserved ones if you ask me. These tears are a gift, they prove you can make it through anything. You can kick depression and anxiety if you keep fighting. As it turns out they’re weaker than what you thought.

Exboyfriends (Part I)

Whenever I explain what my blog is about I always get weird faces. This blog is about depression. I’m no doctor, quite the opposite, this piece of the internet is therapeutic for me but I always try to give some advice that may help you, dear reader. I couldn’t wait any longer to write this post, it’s time to speak about love or the end of it, ex-boyfriends. Tricky subject, please don’t judge.

I had a serious boyfriend for almost 3 years, we actually had in mind marriage… I must admit we started, at least from my side, quite innocently, and I never thought it could lead to anything serious. After a month it became clear to me he wasn’t the men of my life, he sensed it and tried to make things better, they didn’t and I faced him. When I was just starting to tell him that it will never workout he started crying* (pause for reaction). I didn’t know he had such deep feelings for me so I shocked, embarrassed and felt extremely guilty all at the same time. I gave him a chance.

After a few weeks he wasn’t feeling loved. This time he faced me… I remember listening to his complains telling to myself “I’m so selfish, look at him, he doesn’t deserve this, I’m not as  involved as he is”. Again the guilt made me remain with him and quite frankly I felt for him. We fought a lot, he was jealous, controlling… One of the things that bothers me the most is having people telling me what to do. During the second year of relationship I moved to Paris and we managed to make things work.. Kind of… My dad was concerned about the fact that two young persons in love and after not seeing each other for months weren’t excited to see each other. As a matter of fact when I was back at home he wouldn’t pick me up at the airport, we will always wait until the next day. 

Another year went by and during summer, instead of spending it with him I volunteer in Florence. Probably one of the best summers of my life. When I came back I saw things as they really were, I looked in the mirror and realize I wasn’t being myself, I forced me into becoming someone else to avoid the fights and to make him happy. It took me one month to tell him it was over. I was heartbroken not only because of the pain I caused him, I was also very much in pain myself. I loved him so deeply. The day after that I flew back to Paris, crying, devastated... I missed him so much… I kept thinking he will show up to win me back. 

He called to ask if he could come over to talk, I felt for it, he bought the ticket for a couple of weeks later. 

(*) We were in the middle of a big crowded street

Pretty me

Let me start with a song: “I am not a pretty girl that is not what I do. I’m no damsel in distress and I don’t need to be rescued”. 

I used to be a chubby, smart little girl. My parents although they had their concerns about my weight always focused on the importance of education. Since I was little I took extracurricular activities in order to become an intelligent person in the future. I hope it doesn’t sound tacky but I think I did well on that field and became an intelligent, interesting person to talk to. And it was because I worked hard. It also happened that I’m kind of cute…

To some, being pretty is a blessing; to me sometimes it’s a pain in the ass. Starting in college but mostly in my first job and even now I have to hear my colleagues making stupid assumptions. I remember one day I had hearing in court, I knew it will be tough because I had a lot of petitions  but I was ready, I had done my job and I could answer any questions and fight till I get want we needed in order to win this case. I had to face a very unprofessional judge who kept smiling at me, flirting with me before and after the hearing… But truly kept it serious during the hearing and I had to fight but he finally granted his permission to our demands.

When I came back to the office I explained my girl-colleagues how unprofessional this guy was before and after the hearing. The answer of one of them bugged me so much… “awesome, you manage to get it because your hot, good for you. I wish I could use my body to get people to agree on things”. The truth is I never thought he agreed to my petitions because he was interested on me until she said that. I told her her assumption bugged me and she couldn’t understand why it was so unsettling, she saw beauty as an asset. I do to but I don’t give a damn about external beauty, I’m more concern about what’s inside.

You might think I’m over reacting but I assure you this is not a onetime thing, it’s been like this for a long time. I could tell you about how an English colleague on his 70’s wrote a note for 86 lawyers about how meeting me was the most wonderful thing it happened to him and that the memory of me sipping a beer we’ll always accompany him… He didn’t mention a word on the article I had written… so it still bothers me sometimes. 

Today I went for coffee with the guys. They feel very free to say anything about everything in front of me and I appreciate that. Today the conversation was about how our the women at our firm were bug ugly, except me “of course, that’s out of the question, but you know that”. Right, because what you’re looking for in a lawyer is how pretty damn good he/she looks… Jesus!! You should see how (not) handsome these guys are. Funny, yes, smart, very, sexy hell no. And that’s ok for them, but not ok when it comes to us girls. 

Because you know, we have to be smart, pretty but not a lot so they won’t question why we manage to win a case, our nails and outfits should match at all times, must keep up with the news, the names of the clients and their nephews and at the same time make sure your being a great colleague and you remember the names of their wives, kids, dogs and where they were born.  

Ingredients for happiness

Good morning. I can barely open my eyes, I’m wondering how I was able to make it to the office, seriously… It must be the robot part of me, I’m programmed to get here under any circumstance. 

Last night, I was forced to go visit my husband’s aunt and uncle. They’re an old couple with no kids so when they heard we were moving to their town they were more than excited thinking we were going to be visiting every week. To be honest we haven’t been visiting that often… One of the reasons is that we are very independent; although we are glad to share quality time with the family we are fully aware that us, as a couple, need quality time with each other too. 

Anyway, so when I was finally free after working 7 hours but spending almost 9 at the office I was dragged to their home… They are adorable but they speak so much my head hurts, it really does. They speak so much and so fast… It’s like they fight for talking. I’ve never seen anything like that before and the only way I can stand it is by drinking a glass (or two) of wine. Well, last night I had three and went late to bed, as a result, it’s only 9.53 and I have to go back to bed.

The conclusion is that despite all that I’m glad we went there.. It made them happy. I’ve realize that the happiest persons are the ones that give themselves to others. Maybe it’s part of the recipe for happiness.

Her sadness was palpable

Last night I read the saddest post. It was from a girl whose dad passed away two years ago and by that time she decided not to see his dad in the coffin… Now she was regretting she didn’t. 

When it happened to me I knew I didn’t want to see my dad’s body. I didn’t want that memory, I wanted to remember the last time I saw him, even if it was at the hospital, he kissed me, said he loved me… That’s my dad, not the body lying on a coffin. I made my decision although a lot of people couldn’t understand it. My sister in particular tried to force me, I resisted and kept crying outside the freaking building. This decision is probably one of the few I made in my life that I don’t regret a beat, not for a second I’ve had second thoughts. 

I honestly believe when we pass, only the body passed, it becomes an empty casket and the traces of the person that lived in that body disappear. I have cried in front of my dad’s grave many times, including the day after my wedding when I went there to bring him flowers from my bouquet, but I knew he wasn’t there. I know my dad is taking care of us, I feel his presence, especially in church (Catholics believe that during celebrations all saints, angels and dead people from heaven, are present during the mass). That’s why even having huge doubts about my faith, which I steel have, being angry at God for playing me, for taking my dad away, I kept going to church. 

I tried to explain to that person that she made the right thing, that her dad was not in there, that he remained with her… And her honest answer was “I think I’ll regret it anyway if I had done it the other way. I just regret not having him here.” The amount of pain is so palpable… I can easily relate to what she’s saying and I truly hope she gets stronger as time goes by because there’s not really a way to make peace with it.