Aftermath

I’m shell-shocked. The results of my actions are starting to sink in. What am I doing with my life? Why did I do this?

As I woke this morning in my hotel room, this unfamiliar space, it took about a minute to recall the previous day. And as it ran through my mind like a movie reel, I got this feeling like I was watching a car accident, one I was unable to prevent. It seemed as though yesterday was lived by a totally different person, like my body had played host to an alien being. Certainly all its actions was quite unfamiliar to me.

I got up and took a shower, feeling numb and cold, the steaming hot water was much needed to clear my mind. I tried my hardest not to think further than shower – rinse –repeat, fearing it would call forth a highly unwelcome panic-attack. Toweling myself dry with stone hard hotel-towels with one hand and picking out clothes of my bag with another, I multitasked as much as I could to try focusing on anything but my pounding hart. But as I packed my bag to go out to get breakfast, I could not help looking at my mobile, and the 37 missed called that reminded me of what I had left.

Come to think of it, ordering that espresso, will probably not help my nerves. But I desperately need the caffeine, feeling worn out after that huge breakfast I just had. Nothing wrong with my appetite I remind myself and smile as if that is the upside to outweigh all of this. But it is actually a comforting feeling, this fullness, that I so rarely allow myself. And, come to think of it, it is actually not a bad feeling to sit her with my espresso, looking at the walls surrounding the Vatican and having no place to be. Nobody even knows me here. And I know no one. I don’t even know my day, the week or the restof year, since the path I was on have been so abrubtly ended, and a new path lies undicovered ahead of me.

I only have right now, this moment, and this moment fills me with a sense of satisfaction. A huge sense of well being. Like I have been in a race, and this is the goal, that I am now allowed to rest. The feeling of content rolls over me and makes me think of the desert after a rainstorm, that first morning cigarette and the pleasant feeling after sex. Could I have ever guessed how god it would feel to take one self out of the rat race, and if I did would I have done it sooner?

I put my feet up on the chair across from me, and turn my face to the sun, and contemplate about ordering another espresso.

An impulse

I am many things. I am strong, creative, social, stubborn, and efficient. I am a daughter and a sister, an aunt and a grandchild. I am 28 years old, single, sometimes lonely and a bit fed up. But one thing I am not, is impulsive. If one would ask around, ask my friends and family, for one word to describe me, I bet you a million bucks that the word “impulsive” would never get mentioned. I can’t help it; I don’t like not being in control, taking chances or risks. What if it hurts me? What if it breaks me? I always keep my eye on the ball, always thinking of what I have to lose, not what I can gain from a little impulsiveness in my life.

Yet… yet I now find myself standing in the middle of the street in Rome. Suitcase in hand. Trying to find a nice place to stay. For how long, I don’t know. I don’t even know why. When I woke today I could never have anticipated the outcome of this day. But now I am here, in a foreign country, were I have never been before. I quit my job. I left my apartment. I called mom and said goodbye and at the airport I decided to take the first plane to anywhere. And anywhere, faith would have it, was Rome.

This is truly the first day of the rest of my life.