quinta-feira, 31 de março de 2011

Last Day of March

Ed ogni petalo, sai, si finge d'essere una rosa
Per ogni goccia vorrei diluvio sopra ogni cosa
                                                                       
                                                                                               -Noemi






The Last-Day-of-March deserves a post. I felt the pressure as I opened the blog, because suddenly tomorrow all the posts will be categorized under April and March 2011: never again. 
Wow, that unexpectedly came out very dramatic and melancholic.
With April, comes a whole different feeling, a feeling of accomplishment. The year has definitely kicked off, in its second third, and I have participated intensely in its first one. Haven't missed a day, practically. 
This is news, ladies and gentlemen, it may seem like the most trivial thing on earth, but this is big news for me. 
I have commited myself, heart, soul, body - suor, sangue e lágrimas - to a course of action that lasts at least a year. It's a big relief.
The other day it dawned on me that these kids won't know who I am in a few years...and when they grow up they won't remember that I existed. It made me a little sad, because right now we've got such an intense relationship going on and I work so hard for them and with them. But alas, it's part of the job, letting go and letting them grow up. But I like what I have going. They trust me. They like telling me things and sometimes I see they wait to tell ME, specifically, because I taught them how and I showed them its ok to tell me. Sometimes this shows up in inconvenient ways, because it becomes undeniable to the other teachers that there's some sort of special relationship being formed with me. I don't know what they think about that. 

But well... shrebles, don't know what to say about that anymore. 

So, sudden topic change! Love being the director of my own little show. Cartwheel, cartwheel, stop! 

hmmm...

End of scene.
Curtains close.


terça-feira, 29 de março de 2011

"Shouldisms"


So, that fast train metaphor still applies. Even having woken up with time to spare, I still have the feeling. Little chores and little events I have to take care of and I feel like time does not exist at all! Does this have anything to do with the Japan earthquake and the axis of the Earth and all that? ;)  I need some time to feel things and just be, but that’s not happening anytime soon. Or perhaps this evening?
So many ‘shoulds’ are nagging in my ear:
I should go grocery shopping
I should do my nails
I should do the laundry
I should go out with friends, with my mom
I should fix my car
I should eat something
I should walk to work
I should drop off the thing my mother asked me to drop off, even if that interferes with walking to work
I should be studying something...
I should sleep at different hours
I should do the translation exercises
I should calm down
I should take care of my feet/back/head/stomach
I should see the dentist/doctor/psychiatrist

I only have time for priorities and MY priorities, at best. Sometimes not so much, and it is other people’s prioritites…but if you look at it in a different way, my priority is to not have people in my hair and nagging me, so their priorities can sometimes be my own.

segunda-feira, 28 de março de 2011

Pray for the Heart!

I'm worried about my mom, but, as always, all I can do is sit and watch and hope for the best...It's like a whirlwind everyday in here and I hate to see the stress it does to her heart. Pray for her heart!

Things have been a little confusing lately.

I mean, I just feel like I'm on a fast train constantly having to keep up, sprinting and barely breathing, everytime I get off to rest. And even so, once I get back on, I look out the window and everything is blurry and I've missed big pieces of information, or just plain old time.

segunda-feira, 21 de março de 2011

O frio das nuvens

Hoje a cidade não parece meu lar...mais do que não parecia. 
As nuvens estão grandes demais e dizem, vai encarar? E o vento sopra...o que vai trazer?
O friozinho na barriga se manifesta, uma energia em espiral que circula e circula e me deixa com medo.
Prometo cuidar dele num compromisso entre ter que fazer o que tenho que fazer e sentir-lo. 

domingo, 20 de março de 2011

Lost and Found


A song by Sia tonight...


Come along it is the break of day
Surely now, you'll have some things to say
It's not the time for telling tales on me

So come along, it wont be long
'Til we return happy
Shut your eyes, there are no lies
In this world we call sleep
Let's desert this day of hurt
Tomorrow we'll be free

Let's not fight I'm tired can't we just sleep tonight
Don't turn away it's just there's nothing left here to say
Turn around I know we're lost but soon we'll be found

Well it's been rough but we'll be just fine
Work it out yeah we'll survive
You mustn't let a few bad times dictate

So come along, it wont be long
'Til we return happy
Shut your eyes, there are no lies
In this world we call sleep
Let's desert this day of work
Tomorrow we'll be free



terça-feira, 15 de março de 2011

Still


My lungs feel tired again, like exactly a month ago. It feels tiresome to breathe and speak. Anything involving air through pipes. Does not feel nice at all. :/

But just putting that aside a minute, I actually feel very good.

As I made my way to school today, I felt oddly calm. I remember thinking: I finally have a routine. A real routine where I feel secure in every aspect. I don't dread going to work, I don't dread waking up or going to sleep...I mean, it's all ok. It even occured to me in a one big illuminated thought, I LIKE WHAT I'M DOING! That's got to be a first in a long time. I not only like it, I LIKE it, with all my body. Can't put it into words quite well.
That just confirmed intself when my colleague told me she's really happy with me and believes that by the end of the year I would be qualified to take on a class myself, as the teacher teacher. I looked at her, eyes wide open and something in that resonated. She asked me: do you want to be a teacher here? do you want to be a teacher, do you like this? do you want to work in schools? why don't you want psychology?

Aaah, one after another, and all I could do was listen and have some strange light dawn on me...Maybe I am finally where I'm meant to be. I had no reason to say no to her ideas and encouragement, unless I intentionally wanted to boycott myself. It was crystal clear.

A little girl fell asleep in my arms today and I wanted to take her home with me, or better yet, I wanted one of my own...and it was worth every minute of stress and repetition...she felt conforted enough to sleep with me. So much stillness...shhh

I am so relieved because I feel still inside.
I am exactly where I'm supposed to be.

segunda-feira, 14 de março de 2011

Le Metro


Sonhei que estava em Paris, ou Madrid, tentando pegar um metrô para o aeroporto...Tenho uns mapas e preciso entender que linha pegar e para fazer isso tenho que entender os dois mapas e juntar as informações. Está estranhamente difícil, os mapas não fazem sentido. Meu pai está comigo na mesa na praça de alimentação do aeroporto. Peço ajuda para um garçom em espanhol, ele diz algo que não ajuda em nada...

Fico olhando para os mapas, eu vou conseguir!

sexta-feira, 11 de março de 2011

Better

If I kiss you where it's sore
Will you feel better?
Will you feel anything at all?
(Regina Spektor)



segunda-feira, 7 de março de 2011

Absolutely Nothing

to say today. Nothing that can be put in words.
Everything that can get through in this river of emotions that goes by every moment of everyday.
Sad, furious, upset, guilty. All sorts of beautiful stuff like this.
self-loathing and self-writhing.
writhing away with my thoughts
writhing away with my bruises and scratches
writing away long lost memories and longings

sábado, 5 de março de 2011

Meu coração


Let's desert this day of hurt, tomorrow we'll be free
Let's not fight, I'm tired can't we just sleep tonight?
Turn away, it's just there's nothing left here to say
Turn around, I know we're lost but soon we'll be found...
Sia

Sentada naquele carro, me surpreendi com a calma que exalava do meu ser. Afinal de contas, não é todo dia que se vai ao pronto-socorro por sentir que se está para enfartar.

Especialmente quando se tem 20 anos.  

Meu braço esquerdo estava dobrado contra o peito, como se o segredo fosse segurar o sangue mais perto possível do peito, da dor que exalava de forma nada calma de lá e irradiava pelo meu braço.

Ao lado, minha mãe estava furiosa.
Furiosa. 
Não consegui me importar muito, já havíamos vivido muitos momentos de frustração mútua para que eu me deixasse afetar com aquilo. Estávamos a caminho do hospital público mais perto e conveniente. Nunca tinha ido ao um hospital público, o temível sistema de saúde do Brasil, tantas histórias de terror! Aquilo era para ser minha “lição”, para eu aprender a valorizar minha saúde e não inventar frescuras sobre dor no coração, além de, claro, valorizar o tempo e energia dela. “Vai ver o que é bom”, ela disse.
Eu nada disse.

Vamos, pensei comigo mesma, e você verá que tem algo errado.

Até chegar lá pareceu uma eternidade, pareceu outra dimensão de ser. Não lembro que dia era, só que tudo estava vazio. Talvez domingo? Que cidade é essa, que ruas são essas? Onde está meu lar? Porque fui traída assim?
Saímos do carro após estacionar, em silêncio. Estou cansada, estou com o braço contra o peito e ainda não consigo acreditar que estou seguindo adiante com meu pedido. Parte de mim sabe que não vão encontrar nada, mas a mesma parte precisa que verifiquem, precisa que um médico que não mora na mesma casa comigo e não me conhece há 20 anos faça o exame. Tirem os vieses, os meus, os delas!
Entramos e é a típica cena de hospital público. Preenchemos formulários, pegamos senha. Está relativamente vazio (era domingo?) e não esperamos muito até que um cardiologista me chamasse. Entrei no consultório e só consegui dizer que sintia dor no peito, por entre muitas lágrimas. Parte de mim sabia que ele não ia achar nada e isso me fez chorar ainda mais. Minha dignidade estava quase ao chão, mas tinha que seguir, já estávamos ali. Ele fez o eletrocardiograma rapidamente e em poucos segundos conclui que não há nada de anormal. Rabiscou algo ferozmente num papel numa escrivaninha e me encaminhou para outra sala. Não sei o que está escrito, não sei o que ele vai me passar, mas considero ser bom sinal que haja outra etapa e não um direto “vá pra casa”.

A outra sala é de medicação e desta vez me levam para a ala psiquiátrica.

Levei um susto danado, mas não dava tempo para reagir, pois quando vi já haviam baixado minha calça e a injeção no “glúteo” já foi dada. Ai. Ai!
A dignidade? Pois é, a esta altura, foi-se. Tenho que voltar pra casa com minha mãe sabendo que acabei de levar um “sossega-leão” como uma histérica e que não havia nada no meu coração. Mas o farei com o máximo de cabeça erguida, pois arquei com as consequências.

Não conseguia me importar com mais nada ao entrar no carro e recostar o assento para me entregar ao efeito que surpreendentemente está tomava conta. A volta foi um branco e um silêncio profundo, um profundo nada. Alívio puro.
Chegando em casa já era hora do almoço e me recompus o suficiente para cair na cama...e acordar 10 da noite por alguns segundos e voltar a dormir para acordar na tarde do dia seguinte, completamente perdida. Estava rendida.
            Eu ainda defendo que havia algo no meu coração. Como posso sentir algo que não existe? As pequenas máquinas eletrocardiácas não souberam detectar, mas a dor estava lá e meu braço sem dúvida precisava estar dobrado. Não me importa se a emoção provocou aquilo, existiu, não é mesmo?
            Não preciso nem dizer que isso foi a última gota d’água para ser levada a sério em casa. Já estava trilhando um caminho limítrofe, com tantos “ataques” e “frescuras” que acabavam sendo “nada”, agora não tinha mais voz de vez.

            Tudo bem.

            Agora, pensando aqui com meus botões, lembro das incontáveis vezes que minha mãe chegou em casa dizendo que passou o dia achando que ia enfartar, de tanto estresse e ansiedade. Porque não lembrei disso naquele domingo e em todas as desqualificações que seguiram? Mas...pensando melhor, nem isso teria ajudado. A ajuda estava e mim e em buscar sair da nossa pequena relação distorcida e cheia de mágoas-expectativas-doideras-dependências. Já faz 6 anos desde esse pequeno episódio e do famoso 2005 em geral e carrego essas lembranças como pequenos fantasmas.
Pequenos, sim, mas fantasmas nevertheless.

sexta-feira, 4 de março de 2011

Crocodile songs and others

Never smile at a crocodile
No you can't get friendly with a crocodile
Don't be taken in by his welcome grin
He's imagining how well you'd fit within his skin

Never smile at a crocodile
Never tip your hat and stop to talk a while
Never run, walk away,
Say goodnight not gooday
Clear the aisle and never smile at Mr. crocodile...


Children's songs are taking over my brain!
I have to confess, I'm having so much fun with my new job. It is stressful and it makes me tired as everything, but it's fun. I mean, I spend 6 hours interacting with 2 year-olds who hang on every word I say and love to sing and dance and be silly. Even better, they love it when I sing and dance and am silly. They don't care really what I studied or how I look. They care that I care, and my lord how they need people to care! 
Care=love, support and give structure and limits!

Some clouds cleared this morning. I do so know what I want, I just keep telling myself that what I want isn't sensible enough or isn't possible. Or that it's too scary. That's the real problem, right there. Should I try to change what I want (which I am never successful at?) or work on the fear and the beliefs that make me think my dreams aren't plausible? I'm too lazy right now to go into details so I'll leave y'all with this abstract mysterious thought. 




terça-feira, 1 de março de 2011

It's March!

It's March! Eita lelê!
I don't want any job that implies that I have an opinion about people. This little realization came to me as I wondered if I would fare well in the world of child psychotherapy, since I'm getting along nicely with my new friends..Then I remembered that it would imply parents, and parents want feedback, want opinions, want assurance.
And then I changed my mind.
I also thought, do I want to be a teacher?
Again, the implicit need to have a world view and have to defend it all the time made me skivy away.

Today I saw my patients for the last time. It's OVER! The internship IS OVER. Do you understand?? I did it!
Read back to some post in August or July even and maybe you'll find where the internship agony began...and it's over! Golly, really...I was so happy as I walked out back to my car and a teacher caught up with me and I told her I had just had my last sessions...she asked me how I was feeling (probably expecting something emotional and touching) and all I could say was "consegui!!"...I figure she thought it bizarre, but it came so naturally and was much more authentic than some answer based on what I think she wanted to hear...
I don't ever have to be a psychologist again unless I put myself in that position, unless I want to.

Anyways.

That's it for March 1st. I'm on the countdown for Carnaval and the many many holiday days....