QUESTIONS

Majority of what we believe are our ideals, are determined by the society that directly surrounds us; our country, our city, our community, our workplace, our families, our friends, thus also, our books, our social class, our religion, our ideologies, our movies, our social media, etc. creating our individual environment.

The input of this environment in our mind is so much that sometimes it feels like a disease to our own authenticity as individuals. It makes us full of dichotomies, and unsure of who we are.

And yet some of us don’t see it. We definitely have a choice over our values, and the reality is that as life presents us with more situations that make us vulnerable, we realize more and more who we are. Our reactions, our judgments. But the sad thing is, we ourselves can’t always see when we are fake, sometimes it’s hard to recognize whether we are acting in accordance to our own core or not; because our need to belong is quite strong, develops and grows in our minds, it bothers us with its definition of “right” and “wrong”.

Very few people can really be entirely unattached of the demands of the demands of this individual environment, it can be scary to be alone and wait to meet people who align with the core of who we are. We have to be really strong to have faith in life.

What triggers a person to become aware of their biases? Is there a lottery that decides who will and who won’t? How could we possibly live without these filters that no doubt serve an evolutionary purpose to grow as a community? What would happen if everyone became aware? How long would it take to become aware of every single bias? How would that feel like for a person? Would we magically reorganize ourselves based on our values? Would we go to war in groups like we did in the name of our communities, countries, and ideologies?

It is crazy to realize you can never really fully be without this disease of biases but that we may at times be able to recognize when others are not being authentic.

Sidenote: probably feeling sentimental over this topic after hearing about Franz Kafka’s life in the video below. In particular the line: “Kafka saw himself through his father’s eyes, and not society’s”. Damn, that touched me hard, because his father sounds like the embodiment of someone living to fulfill his perceived society expectations.

Dads die first

Today my boss’ dad died.

I watched him sob loudly and publicly. I understood the language of his pain, I had felt it multiple times. A part of him was taken away. I could hear all of his regret and deep sorrow that came from the comprehension that his life had changed forever. No future actions could be taken in this relationship, evolution was now part the past.

When someone dies there is always regret: regret of not loving more; or not loving those that passed away the way they wanted to be loved, when they wanted to be loved.

The body fills up with guilt over every single action that didn’t come directly from the heart.

Relationships with our parents are never easy, but dads always die first and they take the strict hand they used in our childhoods and our adult distant actions that come with the deal.

Patty’s dad had left her mother with her and her older brother when they were very young, he had a new family, a new life, and he didn’t want to make space for them. Patty’s dad died whilst she was working, she broke out in tears and was unable to talk. She sobbed from the heart and despite despising him in day-to-day life, she still regretted.

Regretted not reaching out; regretted holding rencor towards him; regretted hating him. That part of her had died.

Felix’s dad hated that he was gay. Felix spent his life trying to prove himself to his father from a small town in rural Italy. When he made money, his dad learned to appreciate him and accept him, to respect him. Felix’s dad died when he went to try out painting for the first time. He heard the news on the phone from his boyfriend and broke out in sobs.

Pain stuck in his chest was released violently outside, unable to breathe, unable to speak, unable to understand. He had fought with his dad, he hadn’t picked up his mother’s call the day before and he hadn’t called back. The distance that had kept him from his parents who rejected him in childhood lost all meaning.

He regretted. Regretted not reaching out; regretted holding rencor; regretted hating him. That part of him was now dead and now frozen in time forever.

Love is all we care about, we keep our parents out because they do not love us the way we want. We believe they deserve it. But when death takes them, one of the biggest part of us disappears and we are unable to ever improve it or change it. We feel guilt because we loved them and we wanted them to love us but we were unable to build that bridge between us.

Love your way, and allow them to love you their way.

As soon as I left the office I sent a voicenote to my own dad in a different continent. I asked him to please stay alive for 40 more years, I made it into a joke knowing that what had happened today reminded me of his mortality; the great pain it would cause me for him to die; and my inability to attend his funeral due to stupid circumstances as are visas. Death just happens but maybe this joke could be his will to live should something ever happen (*knock on wood*).

Manifesto?

I am writing this diary for a number of reasons, I will try to list them below, in no special order.

Like everybody else I am trying to find the meaning of my own existence. As I enter adulthood I find myself more lost than ever before (ironically?). Writing and communicating are two things that make me feel passion, which is lacking in my life right now, I am hoping that with time this will allow me to feel a little sense of purpose; and to get out of my head.

I admire vulnerability more than ever, I am a fan of Brene Brown, I gotta say I have always walked that walk and as soon as I started my work life and got thrown into the real world, people managed to make me feel ashamed of being a sharer. My idea is to get back to feeling comfortable talking about my life, and feel brave once again; and trust once again in others but above all myself and the steps I have taken in life so far. ALSO I think it’s a great experiment to see what happens to me if I am vulnerable and other people read it.

I was once told “I need too much attention” this is a way to not bother people with my thoughts.

I wanna have somewhere where I can put my opinion and not be judged. In a way, with this, I am screaming into the void that is the Internet, and hoping it takes me somewhere.

Finally, I am very nosy so I thought why not try to connect with other nosy people out there by telling them every single detail of my life anonymously.

My fav quote is below, if anyone ever reads this I just want them to know I want to be the best person possible always, and that I admire those who can always adhere to their values publicly. They are very brave.

Few men are willing to brave the disapproval of their fellows, the censure of their colleagues, the wrath of their society. Moral courage is a rarer commodity than bravery in battle or great intelligence. Yet it is one essential, vital quality for those who seek to change a world that yields most painfully to change.
Robert F. Kennedy