What they call self love

The year 2019 began, when one of the glass doors of my shower went out of the rail and fell on me. Fortunately, the accident left only minor cuts on my forearms and knees. But, fear and anger took hold of me for several days. Why are these pods passing me? Will these scars ever fade? And why is this hell not showing up? I wondered.

After a few days, the car started to screw up, it smoked, it didn't have a drop of coolant left. "You have to open the hood more regularly, skinny," said the idiot who helped me in the middle of Avenida Libertador. And why is this hell not showing up? I asked myself again. "Your radiator has screwed up," the mechanic certified days later ... and the hell still hadn't appeared.

I was without a car and my skin was full of marks, when Hidrocapital felt sorry for me and decided, after several weeks of drought, to send some water to my house. The scrubber did not know how to process such an unexpected surprise and collapsed on the spot. Damn how do I stop so much water? I screamed in my head. And again: Why isn't this shit showing up?

The hell he was my boyfriend and the woman who was deeply frustrated was me. "You don't need it," my friends would say. And no, he didn't really need it. I am an expert at solving pods on my own and have never been financially or emotionally dependent on anyone. But, I longed for his presence and assumed, like a mantra, that "his duty" was to be there.

In the midst of those troubles, a strange fever, which came and went without rhyme or reason, seized me. My head ached, my body weighed, I felt stabs in the stomach, until my period was missed. For the first time in my life, my period, very punctual, was two weeks late.

What I was missing: I'm pregnant and the hell is not going to appear. Without hesitation, and in the middle of my nipple, I called the gynecologist to see me on credit. With 10 years knowing us, it is the least she could do for me. "No, you are not pregnant. In fact, everything indicates that your body is menstruating, even if it isn't, ”she said,“ so… what else is wrong with you? ”She asked. 

Then I burst into tears. The door fell, the car was screwed up, the kitchen became shit, I have a lot of work and little money, I'm tired, and this idiot never shows up. By the way, doctor, on my instagram, people are super happy, those who left, those who stayed. No one has problems there. On the other hand, look at me, it brought me closer to 30, the social pressure to be a mother begins, my best friends are getting married and getting pregnant everywhere and they look so beautiful, so sure of themselves. While I don't even know what I want and, from time to time, I'm even afraid of the dark.

Beherenis just smiled. What do you like to do when you feel like this? He asked me. I don't know, maybe go for a jog, I answered doubtfully. Go ahead and do it. The next morning, I went out to keep my word. On the first lap, I noticed that I couldn't do it. At what point did I also lose my physical condition? I can't, doctor. I can't even do this well, I told him on the phone. Go on, he replied. At every turn, I was just comparing myself to other people. Something was definitely not right.

I went to the office and asked for all my vacations expired before the gaze of someone who probably considered it inadmissible for a press officer to leave the coroto in the middle of a political upheaval and with the streets of Caracas on fire. I questioned myself several times. But I did it. And I kept jogging. Within weeks, the jogging track and fresh air began to take effect.

I had been working non-stop for years, in my formal job, but also as an exploitative tiger emerged. I didn't want the economic crisis to wipe me out. I didn't want to go back to my parents' house, or sell the car, or leave the country. Also, like any woman, I had been charging and solving the problems of all the people around me. And, as if that were not enough, I was in a relationship where I only received crumbs of love and that, without realizing it, plunged me into a deep anxiety that, in ñapa, was spiced up by social networks.

I went to the psychologist, walked on Sundays, forced myself to sleep more than 5 hours a day, ate ice cream, watched silly movies, reread novels I loved, kept jogging. Between turns, I tried to look, listen, feel. After a while, I found myself content with the joy of a child who learned to fly parrot, smiling at the conversation of a couple of high school students, moved by the firmness of that old man, whatever happens, he always goes for a walk, in love with couples who love each other on the street.

That chapter gave me the necessary strength to stop supporting everything that was going to fall sooner or later, including myself. I quit a job that no longer made me happy, I ended up with a love that was killing me inside, I started my yoga practices, I abandoned guilt that did not belong to me, I stopped comparing myself to others, I put myself above everything and alone then love came.


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