At first I thought about listing all of my awful experiences throughout this year here in horrid details but what the hell, what's the use, after all. It would make no difference in the end. Shit happens. Things change. People change. Hearts get broken. You lose a job. You lose your way. You lose a friend. You lose another. Electricity goes off. Internet stops working. Your house floods. Zombies attack. Wine is illegalized. Your cat is secretly plotting your murder. Boo-hoo.
Well, perhaps some of the above mentioned things were untrue in my case (at least so far), but nevertheless this year has been quite a chaos for me. And I really wanted to give up at some point, too. No - let me correct that - I wanted to give up a lot of times. My sister called me a guerrilla warrior for handling all this; I suppose most people would have just given up and gone back home already (whatever it is that one calls home).
These three and a half years I've spent in Lisbon have been challenging to say the least. Each year brings along more and more obstacles to overcome. Whenever something crappy happens, I tend to think "well, let this be a lesson, let me learn something from this" - but an excessive amount of misfortunes seems to want to drag me away from that learning path. Cynicism and pessimism are lurking behind the corner, ready to take hold of me, until I'm finally one of those sad figures who've had too much negative experiences and just think life is total shit and there are no good things left on this planet. I'm still fighting against that, though. Honestly I don't even know where I'm pulling out all that will and strength, but there's some left, anyway.
Last night I was having yet another incident, when my apartment suddenly started flooding after a heavy rainfall. The water was everywhere and it was quite plenty; I had to walk inside the house with my rubber boots. Both me and the cat ended up being soaking wet, cold and miserable. I had been on a sad mood the whole day before, and this little disaster was the final nail to the coffin. After desperately trying to clean up the mess and save whatever things that could be saved I sat down, smoked 5 cigarettes in 15 minutes and thought: THAT does it. That's enough. I've had enough.
I was assured that if this is karma getting back to me, I must had been Hitler, Stalin and the whole Ku Klux Klan in my previous lives. It all seemed excessive, just too much to handle. I was tired, suddenly more tired than I've felt in years. I was wallowing in self-pity and anxiety, unable to figure out what lesson this was supposed to teach me. But I had already understood it, actually, somewhere in my subconscious.
Earlier this year somebody told me that I was like a 14-year-old trapped in a body of a 27-year-old. Unable to take responsibility, to figure out what it is that I want in life; acting like a kid, being needy, behaving strange. I was offended to hear that, of course, but I couldn't really deny it either. Now I could though. That kid is finally gone. Or vanishing quickly, at least. Maybe some people need to have truly tough lessons to start growing up. I've always been a bit stubborn, and usually not in the good sense. But I guarantee - these lessons are finally starting to get through this headstrong skull of mine. I'm mutating into an adult.
Better later than never, eh? And yes, it has been slow and painful. But once you're ripped off of all other options, there's really nothing else to do. Get a grip, woman! was the only thought in my head when I woke up this morning to evaluate the damages of last night. Decisively, I swept the floors and threw away things that couldn't be used anymore; I washed the numerous towels I had to use to keep the water from entering the whole apartment. In the meanwhile I was just thinking, I'll show you. I'll show you what I'm made of. I'm not a weeping brat that runs back to mama after things don't go exactly how you planned. No, screw that. I'm not giving up on my life or myself; or the great things (surprisingly there have been those too) that I've discovered in Lisbon. And this is my home - where should I go to, where should I belong, if not here, regardless of all the misadventures?
It makes me wonder would I ever have reached this state if I had stayed in Finland. Living a pampered life in a pampered country, I doubt that I would ever had to challenge myself so much mentally and emotionally. Thus, I would have remained in my childlike condition. Strangely, now I feel like I'm finally becoming me. I'm on my way there at least. I'm ready to be me.
Let the zombies come.
