Transitions are always hard. Big transitions.

I completed my master’s degree to move on, with all the uncertainties and worries of how my future would look like. I told myself it is normal to feel this way. Just breath. Step by step. I will find a way.

A project in Umbria that pays. A research project offered by my professor.

“Anh! Look! Things are manifested naturally just like that!”, the Universe whispered into my ears. I was hopeful. I felt loved and blessed.

Mom got breast cancer at stage 4.

My world turned upside down. I’m not ready to lose her. And I won’t lose her. But it doesn’t seem to be the only bad news: my family is in crisis, all dysfunctional becomes visible, no one doesn’t seem to be able to compromise.

I’m in the middle. I think about my life and all the future plans that I will sacrifice. Then I realize how selfish I am for thinking for myself while everyone is also in crisis. Then I also realize the guilt probably comes from my programmed mind to prioritize other’s happiness over my own. I realize how much I need someone to understand my story and tell me they are there no matter what. I don’t think I can ask that from my parents. Nor the partner I’m having. Even myself. How tragic.

I want a safe space. A loving space. Where I can be ugly, selfish and childish. I try to be the one to give myself that space. But damn it is hard.

I hate that I have not yet been kind to myself. I seek for people’s kindness. A certain type of kindness. A projection I have about how kindness should look like. A delusion.

Anyway I am coming home.