I’m mentally writing this blog post for 30 minutes now.
I changed the title and the topic several times, even in those 3 minutes when I was brushing my teeth.
After I finished washing myself for bed, I took the phone with the intention of writing just: “I wanted to write a blog post, but I couldn’t decide what to put in it and in the end it doesn’t even matter if I write it or not, it’s not like it’s going to change anything, so I’m going back to re-watching Anne with an E”. I absolutely loved this series!
But… as it turns out, I somehow like to write. So, I guess I’m writing this for me and for my daughter. If it will not be something of value for her, at least I hope she will be amused by her mom’s… creativity. Or lack of it.
One of the most important things that I don’t understand about myself is WHY this constant lack of satisfaction with my achievements. It’s like, from time to time, comes A WAVE that makes me shy out and cry of how inadequate I am and how inefficient I’m using my resources. And how, maybe, with just a little more encouragement from the outside world, I would’ve achieved much more. And how sometimes, I’m putting myself in the shoes of what was and I realize once again that I did my best at that time being.
Intelligence is by far not enough to succeed in life. I mean, is not like I’m over-estimating myself or bragging about it, I am in the top 2% of the population. At least this is according to the test I took for Mensa, 15 years ago.
But this isn’t what brought me “into the depths of despair”… What actually triggered me was when I discovered my life path number, about 13 years ago. Let’s put it this way: “there is WAY too much scope for the imagination”. Too many posibilities to procrastinate, instead of actually doing something.
Every single day I feel like I’m falling more and more behind from what I am supposed to be. Ok, ok. Drama alert.
Now, seriously, do you know what you’re supposed to be? I mean? Really know it? Not just something your parents directed you to be or some personality test you took when you were not even 18. Maybe something you dreamed when you were just a baby and then you forgot. Because I know I dreamed so many things, but slowly reality sat in.
But I do have stories. Deep stories. Some success ones and some “need improvement” ones. My mom used to call me “Prințesa Fandosica” when I was a toddler, because she said I was very much acting like one. I’m not sure how you could translate this in English. It’s trully scary how much influence the way we were treated in our first years of life has in our emotional being as an adult. I wonder when and how I managed to lose all that swag.
Is very hard to be a woman nowadays. At least we have proper feminine hygiene products and more or less free access to proper contraception, not like in the past century.
Anyhow… I’m looking forward for the next century, when babies will be conceived and born in an artificial womb, so that women will not have to stress ourselves for recovering our figure of “being pulled through a ring” and not having to endure babies biting our nipples. Things that men will never have the privilege to experience.