July is always a horrid month for me and mine.
Too many anniversaries bring feelings full of loss and despair for most of the month.
This month, in the midst of sadness, I have moved out of my shared accommodation and into my own place.
This month is bringing with it a reminder of what being free is, of what it feels like to be a strong and independent woman and an acknowledgement of who I am.
I am allowing myself to be sad but trying to pull myself out of wallowing. To see this month as something other than awful.
It is with this thought in mind that I wonder what next July will bring.
Perhaps, it is time to move past sadness and look for a way to celebrate…
Moving does not solve all problems – I was aware of this. I had reminded myself of this everytime I saw a film where the protagonist’s past followed them into their present.
Moving felt like breathing. Almost like for the first time in my whole goddamn life, I could breathe easy. No more elephants sitting on my chest, no more gasping and no more struggle.
I visited. I went back, albeit briefly. The journey was no problem, it was very straightforward, however, walking back into my mum’s house felt like walking into someone else’s house. It no longer felt like mine, my room no longer felt familiar.
By the second day, I felt it. Sadness.
There was a shadow. I instinctively thought it was my cat, my boy. My cat that is no longer physically here. My boy, the life that ended because of my decision, because of my love for him. My heart not being able to live with the knowledge he was hurting, dying. He no longer waits for me at that doorway, it was not him.
3 days of hiding, of “Quick, cross the road. Cross the road. Quick.” to avoid not having to see people, of not wanting to socialise.
And then back again, home. The journey delayed by an hour did not phase me, my iPod dying did not phase me, I was numb.
And then finally
I am here.
to the big City.
I am there.
I made it,
to the classroom.
Here I am, studying. I am undertaking one of my biggest challenges – a BA (Hons) degree. I have been sitting in various rooms, listening to people talk about their experiences.
Then a feeling that has always been well known by me, was given a name and a whole lot of things suddenly made sense.
I should not be here.
How did I get here,
did they make a mistake?
I am not smart enough.
What if I fail,
Imposter Syndrome… So many things fell into place when I heard that term. As though before it had even been briefly explained, I knew it. I had met this feeling before, I KNEW it.
The philosopher Bertrand Russell wrote: “The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts.”
( https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2017/sep/19/fraud-impostor-syndrome-confidence-self-esteem )