It's strange, living in this land of nobody, where I should feel like I belong "home": in Portugal where I was born and grew up but don't anymore, and: not quite belonging yet, the place I have chosen to live, my "real home", England, country where I studied, and now work in the career I have chosen.
So, I'm in between, in the land of nobody.
There's many things in Portugal to like, that inspire good memories, a sort of quiet civility where you feel safe and cozy. At least for a little while. It's the lovely food. The nice weather. That incredible place that are the Portuguese cafes (also known as pastelarias) that double up as little familiar bars, where people meet and socialise and watch football and drink expressos and beers (in a tall small glass that are called imperials), where kids are no more out of place than a man on his own. The easily understood language that you know you don't have to try to figure out some words and don't have to worry about how you pronounce others. The friends with their own lives and new experiences. The family with all their idiossicracies.
Yet, all this is no longer intrinsic. It's no longer your own. You're too distant. Too removed now, away from a common societal experience that gives you that sense of belonging. Besides, whilst a lot stays the same, others change, subtly, as is to be expected. That in itself it's not a problem. The problem is when you realise that you have changed also. More importantly, in many ways, you have changed in a divergent manner.
It's your mannerisms. How you think about things. How you react to news, people, situations. It's, ultimately, how you feel.
I was asked, do you often miss and think about Portuguese food? I said sometimes, but that is not exactly true. No, I don't really, not anymore. I just don't think about it. And it applies to everything else as well.
I no longer miss it, not really. Maybe because it's no longer me. Perhaps because I have nothing else left here. There's family, sure, of course there is, and old friends. But that's the past, my past.
I saw on TV today family is the most important thing in the world. And I found myself thinking, is it?
Intellectually I know that is almost akin to some kind of blasphemy, betrayal, a non-sense. Yet I don't feel it anymore, that connection. Through bonds of blood. I used to. I just realised over the last few days that I don't anymore.
Will that make it easier? To leave everything get up and go as I have been debating recently?
Well, family wise I already live far. Some I haven't spoken to in years. Others I have but if I hadn't it would not make any difference, they don't know me as I don't know them. My dad, I don't know, I thought I did, but who knows? My mum, I feel a duty more than anything these days, that's what's dwindled down to.
Friends, my old real Friends, I live far from them already. They have their lives, ever more so, and it doesn't include me in them. I love them dearly but they are the past (M, I know you'll hate me for these words but I know also that despite what might make you feel you know I'm right).
So, what? I'm always complaining/thinking/moaning that people in Leicester aren't my Real friends, maybe in the future but not yet. But I would miss them, that's the reality, they are the people I would miss the most, at least right now. The question here is, are they the future?
My future? Are they? I'm not that close to them, although I know a lot of them for what is becoming a considerable number of years. Will I ever though? They also have their own lives to live and I'm unsure I will ever be a part of it.
The only way, really, is to make my own future. Find the people that will be part of that future. Partner/wife/lover. Friends. Country? Maybe.
Maybe this is it. The moment of zen. As I write these words it all seems to fall into place, at least easily enough justified.
It then becomes a problem of fear, I guess. Of the unknown. Of hunger. Of guilt. Of loneliness.
"Sometimes in order to do what's right you've got to do what's wrong." I read that in a book, recently. "I firmly believe that sometimes it's right to do the wrong thing" I saw that in s tv series, some time ago. Both are expressions of the same general idea. That sometime you need to do what's right for you even if it may seem wrong in someone else's eyes or for somebody. That sometimes that little bit of selfishness is needed. Although the concept and the reach of selfishness is a relative flexible notion.
So yes. I live in between. Not longer in one world, not quite in another. And I'm not sure if I will ever truly belong in either, not anymore.
Do I try a third choice? Do I stick with the current choice, after all I have devoted the last six years to it. If I go for the former is that giving up and throwing the towel? Or on the other hand is it throwing caution to the wind and have the courage to risk everything?
Is it courage or cowardice? It's a shade of grey it's what it is. And I'm caught in it, in my own mind.
I'm in between...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone