It felt so good just to be able to sit down. To have one night for myself. To not have to run around the city like a crazy person. To just be sitting at this lovely dark brown table, sipping my Primitivo and listening to a newish London girl group made up of chicks who were probably already born when “Full Moon” - one the albums they mentioned as a core favorite of theirs - came out. But hey, it was and it still is a vibe. I decided to not have to feel “old” anymore. You are not getting any younger, kid, so you might as well enjoy the beats made by people born 15 years after you. Also due to the inevitable fact that one day these 15 years will be 20 years, and 25 years, and so on and so forth. And I will be one of the lucky ones if they get to 50. So enjoy it, babes. Time slips through your hands because you keep running. Stay still. Sip your wine. Count to three. Take a handful of slow, steady, purposeful breaths. See how lovely it feels? Will someone be disappointed in your slowing down? Of course. This is one of the givens of life. You will not be able to make everyone content. And you know what? It’s damn well OK for things to be that way. It’s time to make yourself content. The rest will come. We tend to define ourselves through our traumas. 2014 was the year I thought I would start reaping the benefits of an assumed sexual awakening. Lord knows I tried to make everything work. Study hard, send those applications. Work hard. Learn those languages. Go through those night shifts. Smile like a motherfucker. Be fucking gentle to everyone who crosses your path. Say yes, say yes. Wash, rinse, repeat. Don’t complain. 2018, was the year I found myself newly single and ready to mingle and the whole la di da, in Berlin of all places. My chosen promised land. I was 29 and ready to live a routine made up of dating, working, socializing, just… being a sexy young adult living in a buzzing European capital and enjoying the fruits of his trials and efforts. I had not had a chance to experience this earlier. Growing pains were supposed to have been a thing of the past. 30 was looking good. I was finally going to eat this world up. Then a slew of things - happened - and a pandemic kicked in and I fell in love but also got very confused as in - am I growing up too fast? Did growing pains give way to being grown and past my youthful prime in one split second? Where did the middle ground go? I realize it is all in my mind. I am more loved than what I have been telling myself. Get out of this imposter syndrome. Do your best and give yourself ample room to fail. It’s going to be ok, Michele, it’s going to be ok. I looked around my untidy, dusty room and felt a smile creep up across my face. I was damn proud of myself. The suffering I had to go through between 2018 and 2019 is still there, but by golly, did it make me more assured.
Table for one
Table for one
Table for one
It felt so good just to be able to sit down. To have one night for myself. To not have to run around the city like a crazy person. To just be sitting at this lovely dark brown table, sipping my Primitivo and listening to a newish London girl group made up of chicks who were probably already born when “Full Moon” - one the albums they mentioned as a core favorite of theirs - came out. But hey, it was and it still is a vibe. I decided to not have to feel “old” anymore. You are not getting any younger, kid, so you might as well enjoy the beats made by people born 15 years after you. Also due to the inevitable fact that one day these 15 years will be 20 years, and 25 years, and so on and so forth. And I will be one of the lucky ones if they get to 50. So enjoy it, babes. Time slips through your hands because you keep running. Stay still. Sip your wine. Count to three. Take a handful of slow, steady, purposeful breaths. See how lovely it feels? Will someone be disappointed in your slowing down? Of course. This is one of the givens of life. You will not be able to make everyone content. And you know what? It’s damn well OK for things to be that way. It’s time to make yourself content. The rest will come. We tend to define ourselves through our traumas. 2014 was the year I thought I would start reaping the benefits of an assumed sexual awakening. Lord knows I tried to make everything work. Study hard, send those applications. Work hard. Learn those languages. Go through those night shifts. Smile like a motherfucker. Be fucking gentle to everyone who crosses your path. Say yes, say yes. Wash, rinse, repeat. Don’t complain. 2018, was the year I found myself newly single and ready to mingle and the whole la di da, in Berlin of all places. My chosen promised land. I was 29 and ready to live a routine made up of dating, working, socializing, just… being a sexy young adult living in a buzzing European capital and enjoying the fruits of his trials and efforts. I had not had a chance to experience this earlier. Growing pains were supposed to have been a thing of the past. 30 was looking good. I was finally going to eat this world up. Then a slew of things - happened - and a pandemic kicked in and I fell in love but also got very confused as in - am I growing up too fast? Did growing pains give way to being grown and past my youthful prime in one split second? Where did the middle ground go? I realize it is all in my mind. I am more loved than what I have been telling myself. Get out of this imposter syndrome. Do your best and give yourself ample room to fail. It’s going to be ok, Michele, it’s going to be ok. I looked around my untidy, dusty room and felt a smile creep up across my face. I was damn proud of myself. The suffering I had to go through between 2018 and 2019 is still there, but by golly, did it make me more assured.