C. 16

                                    

                                          
It's all day that my phone rings wildly and I don't answer. After the amazing weekend in Venice and a serene working day, today I took a day off, as I had planned for some time, and I'm spending it all between bed and sofa, still in pajamas at three in the afternoon. I ignore the phone that starts ringing again after a very short break and close my eyes, resting my head on the side of the sofa.
When my mom died, after the first acute moment of pain, I decided that I would use my suffering to turn it into something positive. I have always been a rather rigid person, clinging to the schemes, trying in every way to make ends meet. At the same time I have always been a loving and understanding person, who puts others first, ignoring herself and her own needs. That's exactly what I continued to do after my mom's death, in fact. I remained glued to my plans, I continued to shine in my course of study, I did not skip even one exam session, I always aimed for the best. I erased distractions, I erased the pleasure of a relationship, which although immature was my first love, because I believed I had no time for pleasure. I took on my shoulders all the responsibilities related to my family, to my brother, I took care of him, ignoring my anger and my pain, to make room for his.
Then came my psychological journey, because I had the lucidity to understand that I had reached the limit and then I realized that I also needed my space of light. I realized that the pain of loss I would never overcome, that I would have made a crazy effort to live with it, but that I could not do otherwise. What I could do was try not to succumb, to learn a little lesson and make the most of the time available, that you can never really know how much this is. My personality has not changed, nor my rigidity, also because for a long time the only space really dedicated to me was that hour a week that I dedicated to therapy. Then I began to understand that it was right to treat myself to whims, personal and free spaces: I have always been sober in the choice of these spaces, so at most I dedicated time to an exhibition, to a trip out of town, to a book that I had left behind for some time. Over time I stopped going to therapy, I found a semblance of serenity, I understood that changing the plans in the race is acceptable, so I let Andrea follow his path and I changed my course of study, leaving cardiology alone, which after all had never really been my dream, but only the perfect dream of a perfect plan. I have always tried to dedicate small and sober spaces of serenity and not to bask in pain. It was not always easy, especially after Rosaria's abandonment. She was somehow my greatest beacon of light that I have ever allowed myself. It was the first time I allowed myself to love without hesitation and this then caused me immense pain. It was the first time I let myself go completely. With hindsight, even if I do not want to erase all the good that there was, I still realize that in reality my crazy love for her consisted in always going to meet her, in putting her at the first place, always and in any case, that it was a serious need, that it was a night of passion that I granted her even if I did not want to, whether it was which food to take away or which location to choose for a weekend.
After her it was even more difficult, because on the one hand I was afraid of being hurt again, in that way so strong and so lacerating, while aware that love and pain are basically along a continuum from which you can never detach. It was difficult to rebuild myself, to understand that I had to look again for those sober and small spaces to dedicate myself, so as not to succumb in front of everyone. I was helped again by the study, the roommates, the almost obligatory choice of having to go out on Saturday night so as not to be considered the strange one, aware that deep down I always had the hope of being on shift, every weekend, because that was not my light. I was afraid of never finding my light again, until Maya arrived. She arrived and I didn't even notice it. I threw myself headlong into this relationship almost without even thinking, perhaps helped by the fact that most of the time at the center of everything was her genetic condition.
After all the beauty that has been there, however, now the fears, the deepest ones, make room inside me. I don't want to erase myself again to become the perfect girlfriend Maya dreams of, even though I know she never asked me. But I'm afraid I don't know how to love otherwise. Or rather, I am afraid of not knowing how to love. Or I'm afraid of loving too much. And today, which is the anniversary of my mother's death, all the fears have found a way to go out, leaving me helpless at home, to eat ice cream in the middle of winter, with the plaid on my legs and a stupid TV series in front of my eyes.