Video accompaniment to the recent Mercatino Giapponese post. Hope you enjoy watching it! 😉
It took 4 years, but finally I found out where there is a real second-hand store in Rome…and it happens to be in my backyard. 😉
Before I left the US, I was pretty much hooked on spending part of my weekend in the local Goodwill or Salvation Army. I have a thing for anything vintage and I am ridiculously
cheap frugal, so shopping second-hand leaves me in bliss.
When I first moved to Rome, the “vintage” stores here left me thinking Oh, Hell No!
Seriously, the prices were (still are) enough to induce cardiac arrest.
Luckily, my friend Sammy introduced me to Ex-Novo on Saturday. Although the prices are still considerably high in my book, they are still significantly lower than the vintage stores that you will find in Rome’s historic center.
So, if you’re in Rome, or planning to travel here, and love vintage, check out Ex-Novo in the San Paolo Basilica area. It’s just a few steps from the metro.
Via Corinto 12, Rome
(San Paolo Basilica Metro)
So what happened after March 2009?
I decided enough was enough. I was sick, tired, self-pitying, angry at the world and at myself, and just generally feeling that I was inadequate that my existence was quite pointless.
I wasn’t able to participate fully in either my personal or professional live. It was hard. When I looked in the mirror, the image smiling back at me was still sad. I decided then that neither Fibromyalgia nor my mind nor my surrounding was going to stop me from finding a way to live.
I decided to do what I could do…take one step forward. I joined up with two other ladies to do a walk/run for 15 minutes for most mornings.
I decided to do Weight Watchers Online for three months to learn more about nutrition and to be inspired by others who were taking positive steps to make effective changes in their lives.
I decided to become vegetarian, slowly (and I mean very slowly) removing meat products from my life.
I decided to begin learning how to love myself as I was in that moment, not lament who I had been. I wasn’t always successful, and sometimes I still struggle with that.
I acquired the following books:
- Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Fibromyalgia, and Other Invisible Illnesses: The Comprehensive Guide by Katrina Berne and Daniel L. Peterson
- Food that Helps Win the Battle Against Fibromyalgia: Ease Everyday Pain and Fight Fatigue by Deirdre Rawlings (yes, I love the fact that we share a name 😉 )
I decided to become more natural with my medication, finding ways to decrease the amount of medications that I had to take. It took consulting with my doctors and taking time to research, but it was worth it.
I temporarily joined a Fibromyalgia Support Group (though I did not always find it supportive, especially when it came to improving my physical health).
I began to speak out more about my needs and take steps at work to make sure that others understood the nature of my illness.
After almost two years of doing this work, I found myself a bit more than 70 pounds lighter. My blood pressure which was unreasonably high was lower. My body that I could barely move most days began to move more. My mind was less foggy. I began to wake up to many realities of which I was not aware.
And finally, I became aware of something that I knew to be psychologically true…but never imagine I would ever experience. I became aware of the fact that people were angry about my changes.
I had to deal with rumours about my weight loss, i.e. how I lost weight, for whom I lost weight.
Of course, when you go from a larger size to a smaller size, you need new clothes. I was fortunate to receive some vintage clothing from April’s grandmother, which were more fitted to my figure. Wearing these clothing turned into gossip that I was trying to attract men…even though these people knew that I was married and highly committed to my marriage.
There was also a humorous side to all of this (actually, I found the rumours humorous too). I discovered that suddenly people felt more comfortable giving me compliments. I even had someone say that they were surprised by how good I was looking lately.
Suddenly, too, many people were ready to chime in on my general appearance: how I should look, what I should wear, what my weight should be.
I guess you could say that losing the weight brought me both joy and distress. I was happy to be free from some of the physical difficulties posed by my weight gain…but I was equally distressed by the growing hostilities coming from various parts of my life. Still, I do not regret it.
I cut my hair and moved to Rome, which brought on a whole host of other issues, of which you can read about in earlier postings in my blog.
Until Next Time,
P.S. Check out School Psychologist and Professor Nina Ellis-Hervey regarding mind and body well-being. Link to her website here. Also visit her YouTube site “BeautifulBrownBabyDol“…You won’t regret it.
- Fibromyalgia…. isn’t just pain! (fighterzblog.wordpress.com)
- Fibromyalgia Might Be Harder on Younger Patients, Study Finds (nlm.nih.gov)
- Let’s Get Physical…because you have no excuse…apparently (julieunfiltered.wordpress.com)
- What do Weight Watchers and God have in common? (familyandfaithmatters.wordpress.com)
- Slim Fast, Weight Watchers, Vegetarians, Oh My… (confessionsofalazyvegetarian.wordpress.com)
- Weight (heronthereeverywhere.us)
This story starts as far back as 1999 while I was studying in Berlin, where I was approached by an elderly couple, who 1) wanted to take my picture, and 2) wanted to ask me hair care advice for their recently adopted African grandchild.
Now, I am all for helping anyone out if it is within my power. Thus, I acquiesced to their request. Let’s fast-forward to my travels around Italy. From the time I put my foot down on the sidewalk of an Italian city, I have been regularly asked to have my picture taken, sometimes by people who are visibly tourists and sometimes by Italians. It doesn’t matter where: walking around the Vatican (check), coming out of the Colosseo metro station (check), window shopping in Florence (check).
Of course, this kind of thing is flattering on one level–who doesn’t like to have someone ask to take their picture? And I am human enough to say that I find it mildly entertaining, i.e. after the initial shock. On the other hand, it is rather disturbing to me to come to the understanding that some people have such little exposure to others who are visibly different that they feel the need to record it–I am quite certain that there are random pictures out their in the world of me looking sightly (or very) awkward…
Anyway, what say you who are like me? Has anyone else had these kinds of experiences, regardless of your race/ethnicity? If so, what do you make of it?
Vivian Nwakah, host of the blog Lonely Tripping, writes about her travels and her experiences. In one of her posts, she discussed the lack of positive portrayal of Black people in the media. More so, how the prevalence of this type of negative media has a potentially direct impact on the experiences of Black travellers. In relating an experience with a young Turkish man, she stated,
“Now in his defense he has never left his village in Turkey and he has probably never met a black person before. He only has the media and negative portrayals of black people to go on.
That being said, when you leave a big city and start to travel the world you should expect and be prepared to deal with misconceptions about your race, gender, culture, ethnicity, religion, and nationality. The most important thing to know is that if a person you meet is not open to learn about you and your culture; the only recourse you have is to continue to carry yourself with class and dignity.”
I agree with her sentiments whole-heartedly.
Until Next Time!
- Dealing with racism and preconceptions while traveling (lonelytripping.com)
- TWBF: No, thank you. I am not a prostitute… (Part 3) (diedreblake.wordpress.com)
Where to begin…where to begin. I am still listening to Vivaldi.
How is Vivaldi relevant to the topic? Well, actually, I have found that listening to instrumental music is quite helpful when managing emotions. And throughout my travels, I have most definitely had to learn how to manage my emotions (although I am not always the most successful). 😉
I have been travelling alone since 1987. My first trip was a 3-4 hour long flight from Kingston, Jamaica to Boston, Massachusetts. Strangely enough, I remember feeling neither terrified nor excited–I was busy thinking about the most appropriate way to act, in order to make the best impression on those who would encounter me. Even at the young age, I had tapped into something that has served me throughout my travels of the years. That is, neither fear nor excitement will get you anywhere, if you do not behave appropriately.
So, let’s fast-forward some years to 1996 when my mother and I decided to backpack from London to Edinburgh. Although it was a great deal of fun, it was also my first instance of having someone look at me askance. What I mean to say was that my long braided hair, bell-bottom (before they were called boot-cut) jeans, guitar slung over shoulder look along with my big blue Jamaican passport causes one of the (thankfully female) guards to do an extra check on me. It was the first time that I had someone basically put their hands on my person in such a thorough manner. And I remember recording that in the catalogue of my mind.
Apparently, I did not learn from episode 1996, because in 1999 when I travelled to Berlin to attend an overseas program, again I was stopped and thoroughly searched: shoes removed and all. Of course, I was still rocking out in my hippie-mode the long braids, guitar (I think), big blue passport, but then I had traded my jeans for cargo pants…you know, with the many pockets. The guards at Tegel weren’t having it. I wasn’t annoyed then…that came later. I figured I would allow for stereotypes to simply be. After all, even in the US, people pair Jamaica with the word marijuana, so…
Berlin…to Prague? No, I don’t think so…
Everything changed when I decided to take a trip to Prague to visit a friend in November 1999. I remember clearly that it was an early morning trip, and already Berlin had become cold. Even as I journeyed to Prague, I could see the pilings of snow covering buildings and streets–At that time, snow still fascinated me. (Live in Boston for a couple of years, and you get over the fascination really fast).
So, what could have happened on that trip? Well, long story short was that I, along with other people of visibly minority status, were escorted (I use that for the sake of politeness) off the train and told to return to Germany…i.e. even with my big old visa that gave me the right to enter into the Czech Republic and thus visit Prague.
Yes, that’s right. My passport was taken from me and I was kept in a holding area (feel free to read into that a little) until train heading back to Berlin had arrived. Mind you, in German I directly asked the German border patrol what the meaning of this was. He equally directly and quite civilly told me that the Czech didn’t want people like us there, and that was the reason for our removal. Wait…People like us??
Well, that was my first and last time to have an experience like that…and why? The following is not a definitive reason. However, I will say that the episode caused me to do something I never thought I would do… I decided to become an American citizen. I understood that with my Jamaican passport, I would continue to run into problems. Now, please, understand that this is merely my experience and my then-logic. I understand now that problems with travelling can occur regardless of your passport. The little blue passport, however, did help me in my travels. No longer did I get the strange delays and the weird looks (okay, so I still got the looks). 😉
(Expat in Korea celestrial81186 at YouTube. See part two here.)
Okay, so what does this all mean? No, I am not saying every person of colour who is not American should run out there, toss their citizenship, and try to become an American citizen. I am proud to be an American citizen and equally proud to be Jamaican. What I am saying is that it is possible that the origination of your passport potentially can help or hinder your ease of travel as a person of colour. Again…these are just my thoughts. Also, there is a difference when travelling to a place for vacation, and staying in a place for a longer period time, but I will come to that next… 😉
Also, if you have specific questions about travelling, please free to ask and I will address them in my next post.
Until Next Time.
P.S. I was attempting to find a cute cartoon featuring Black women travelling…and so, I did as we are expected to do these days and went on Google Images…What did I find? Well, nothing could be posted. Many of the cartoons were quite derogatory towards Black women. Now, why is that?
- Why You Need a Second Passport (safehaven.com)
- 10 Things Not To Do In Berlin, Prague, Vienna and Budapest (hilarytopper.com)
- Jamaica 50 – The Celebration Continues (prweb.com)
Almost two years ago, I sat on the floor in my bedroom, staring at a propped up full-length mirror. My eyes were red and stinging from crying. My ex was staring at me with concern. I am not sure where the dogs were, and it’s quite possible that they were there too. It was Thursday. It was evening. It was Thanksgiving Day. It was also the beginning end.October 1999. Stanford-in-Berlin Program. It was the day before we left to travel as a group to Weimar to visit Buchenwald and to see the Bauhaus School of Art & Design. I sat in the darken closet space in the library/loft bedroom that served as my home for a semester. My hands were moving silently and quickly trying to unravel, trying to untangle the part of myself that was false.
They weighed 2.5 lbs. My dreadlocks. Long, black, streaked red, interwoven with the hairs of those whom I had loved and still loved. I placed them in a large wooden box, buried them with the things that once belonged to that which was now lost. I buried the box under boxes, the memories hidden from my sight, my head free and light, even if my heart was fully empty.
I shoved the engineered strands that once formed plaits, that once gave me an image of who I wanted to be but was not. I decided then, thirteen years ago, to accept the image of myself that stood: dark circled eyes, lips too big, cheeks puffy, pimpled face, brooding, always too hungry and never fully satisfied even after consuming anything and anyone. I had been living in a vaccuum catering to my illusions and fostering my disillusionment with the world around me.
The screaming voice, terrified in its inaction, broke my heart. The words did not make sense, but then again they did. Drop everything and run. Dropped everything and ran to my car, open the door and drove speedily on curved roads. It wouldn’t have changed anything. It changed nothing. Death happens sometimes in an instant. There is nothing to be done. Whether it is the warmth of the cooling body that lays still beneath touch of a palm roughed and ruined by age and care. In absence of signs of either life or death, there is neither hope nor grief.
Going against the grain. It’s what I do best. After I came out to my mom in 1996 as a lesbian, I immediately started dating men, resulting in memories best forgotten and the decision that all men were bigs…I’ve changed my mind about that…somewhat. It’s doing the unexpected that make life worth living. At least, you know that you are choosing and not someone else.So, I decided to resign from my job just when I was eligible for indpendent licensure. I decided to leave the country that served as my home for twenty-odd years to move to place where I didn’t speak the language, had nothing and no one. I decided to cut my hair just when I began to recognize myself in the mirror.
Until Next Time…
The streets of Rome continue to be filled with tourists, street vendors, performers, designer and not-so-designer stores, construction workers and apparently me. To describe Rome as “hot” in summer is a vast understatement – I am beginning to wonder if I have descended into the depths of hell, and am only a few moments away from seeing fire and brimstone. Who knows… especially with the temperatures at night being somewhere between 80-95 degrees. Regardless, I have come to look at this period as merely the final stages of my own personal experience of being tempered.
I’ve returned to Rome after being two months away. The process of my return was not an easy one as it meant vast amounts of paperwork and a whole lot of letting go. Both of which, I had assumed that I was quite accustomed to by now… apparently not. 😉
Beginning where I am: Part 1
It’s been a long time since I have written on my blog… and with good reason. That is, getting paperwork done to move overseas is never easy and is time-consuming as is the finalizing one’s life that is being left behind. More importantly, however, I wanted to take a break away from my introspection – As much as sharing my thoughts with the larger world is an interesting and encouraging experience, I have found that there is equal importance to be given to the practice of shielding one’s thoughts.
In moving forward, I would like to make my blog a more interactive experience – I am not certain of how that may actually manifest itself. 😉 From some of the feedback I have received, however, I have come to understand that my thoughts have been helpful to others and have given them perspective/insight into their own lives. And so, I would like to invite questions or topics to be addressed via my blog. After all, how much can I talk about my life? 😉
Thus, I begin this new phase with the hope that I can reach out and help others more directly. Of course, I will continue a weekly (or perhaps even more often than that) update of my blog with topics of interest that arise from my observation from the world around me. In the interim, send me your thoughts and questions. (email@example.com)
Monday, 29th of August – Beginning where I am: Part 2 (Self-deconstruction and understanding the strength of one’s self-foundation)
Nine months ago, I began travelling once again. It would seem that much of travelling would involve rapid movement. Perhaps each day, waking up leads to seeing a new city, or being in a completely different time zone, or realizing that only one hour has passed of a ten-hour flight. The actions of packing and re-packing and saying goodbyes and hellos only reinforce the notion that time is moving quickly – It becomes a continuous cycle of beginnings and endings.
Then there is the “stuff” in the middle: the time spent experiencing a new culture, new people, or returning to the familiar. Quick or slow, the hyper-awareness of passing time has become, perhaps, a universal experience for travellers. For myself, practicing mindfulness has been integral in being able to manage time-based anxiety, to slow down, and to keep myself “in the moment.”
I wrote about mindfulness in other postings, but I thought to share mindfulness expert Dr. Marsha Linehan‘s words on the goal of practicing mindfulness skills. In her Skills Training Manual for Treating Borderline Personality Disorder, she states the goal of mindfulness skills is “learning to be in control of your own mind, instead of letting your mind be in control of you.”
Dr. Linehan’s dialectical behavior therapy treatment (DBT), in which mindfulness is the core skill, has been proven to be effective in helping a person gain a more adaptive method of dealing with his or her life. Just imagine what it could do for managing anxiety related to travel? 😉
Never hold your breath…
In a recent New York Times article, Dr. Linehan revealed her own struggle with mental illness (borderline personality disorder), and how these struggles helped her in developing DBT. I was not shocked, or even mildly surprised, by this article. I imagine that there are some within the field of psychology, who are now balking at her decision to publicly disclose her illness. After all, based upon my own experiences, I would say that there is a good deal of conservatism on the subject of disclosure and just how “human” (read: have struggles of their own) therapists can reveal themselves to be.
After reading this article, one thought struck me – How terrified Dr. Linehan must have been over the decades because she thought it professionally better to keep her struggles secret? What does it mean for the field of psychology that one of its most prominent members has only now felt safe enough to disclose her struggle? Is the field still so rooted in psychoanalysis, in the Freudian desire that therapists be a type of tabula rasa (“blank slate”), wanting for clients to experience transference? Of course… there is a reason for the experience and acknowledgement of counter-transference… Right?
I like the idiom “don’t hold your breath.” Traditionally, the meaning refers to impossibility of something happening. What I like specifically is the coming together of stagnation and the flow of time. For me, the expression reads more like “It is important to continue living, even when waiting for something or someone, because the only actions that can be controlled are your own.” In the article on Linehan, she states clearly that she did not want to chance dying and not have been brave enough to step forward. In terms of travelling, it is the idea that focusing on either the beginning or end might cause you to miss the important moments of the middle.
It is the middle, the moment in which the understood and well-regulated reality is held in abeyance, that creates the opportunity for new experiences and self-development. So, focus on the moment, this moment, because the beginning and end come sometimes faster or slower than can be imagined.
Finding space, sentences & self…
I took some time away from the blog to become more settled (it’s a process), to lend support to both my family-of-choice and family-of-origin, and to gain more complete understanding on my reasons for sharing my thoughts with a larger audience. Like the process of self-understanding, this blog is steadily finding its path.
Taking space has meant the opportunity observe life and experience living without constant analysis, which is its own type of judgement. Moreover, at the end of the day, if the few or many words I choose to share offer comfort and encouragement to any individual, then I am satisfied. Remember…
The path to self is never clear, and thus it remains important to “stop, look, listen… and think,” in order to keep living.
Best of regards to everyone.
Stand still, say little
or better nothing at all
Stand still, stay little
why bother walk than crawl
Stand still, sway little
for whom do you stay alive
for whom shall you thrive
Stand still, say stay, never sway
sway never stay, say
say stay, sway, stand still – Still stand
or nothing at all.
I used to wait…
Days are ending before they even begin, and I am trying to find a way to simultaneously slow time down and move it quickly forward.
Waiting is an acquired skill. Truly, it is not an easy task, especially when the unknown is that for which one is waiting. I learned how to wait, however, during my childhood while I lived in a convent in Jamaica.
There were many months inbetween my trips to see my mother (and then eventually also my sisters) in the United States. There was nothing exciting about that waiting. Rather it was quite terrifying as I often feared for the safety of my family because they were so very far away.
In those days, I did not find joy in the thought of going to America as many of my peers thought I would and should feel. After all, what Jamaican child would not want to travel to see the wonders of America? At least, that was their thinking… I did not, however, prescribe. During those years, I could not have cared less about travelling to America – All I wanted was to see my family… wherever they were.
Travelling alone as a child was equally terrifying, especially as I travelled by airplane for hours – Jamaica to Boston, Boston to Jamaica, Jamaica to Orlando, Orlando to Jamaica – Time never seemed to move quickly enough.
Lately, I have found that I am still very much like my childhood self: a bit terrified of the unknown, but waiting for it nonetheless. What is different, however, is that as an adult I am appreciative of each and every second that I have in the day. Whereas in my childhood, I despised time, which seemed ever long. I suppose the difference is that as a child I merely tolerated the process of waiting. As an adult, however, I have simply become patient.
Life is changing fast…
I often express the fact that one can only change and control one’s self and no one else. The same could be said for situations.
Presently, I stand amidst a flurry of activity and inactivity, over which I truly have limited control. Then again, even if I could have control, I am pretty sure I wouldn’t want it. Why? Well, simply because I am a planner, who attempts to create order and routine wherever I go, and who is hyper-aware of time (in a sort social clock way). Whether this stems from the uncertain structure of my childhood, i.e. living in multiple places and away from my family, I am not certain. What I do know, however, is that I spent an inordinate amount of time creating a structured self and world only to watch both destruct and fall to chaos in a matter of few short years.
Transitions of all types tend to be stressful. Thus, as I experienced life-changing transitions and disruptions to my well-planned and well-timed established order, I experienced great amounts of stress (and we know just how good that is for fibromyalgia – Right?) . Most of the stress I experienced was as a direct result of these transitions, but there was a good deal of stress that came from my own internal processing, i.e. negative self-talk – I engaged in emotional warfare with myself, berating myself for not complying with my mental agenda and achieving goals in a timely manner. Fortunately, the process of battling an overly planned future and uncertain present led me to the following realization: at the end of the day, I simply want to be happy, regardless of the presence of either order or chaos.
There is beauty to be found in chaos. Though, some years ago… perhaps even a year and a half ago, I would not have agreed. Now, I find that chaos brings about opportunity for growth, which my own life has shown me, especially over that last few months. It is in the deconstruction of one’s life and self that core truths can be found. After all, once the masks have all fallen away, only the face remains, upon which the truth of one’s life is plainly written for all to see. Sometimes, one has a choice as to when and how to remove the masks.
Sometimes, however, life simply tears them off one by one without any warning. Either way, the removal of the masks and the resulting confrontation of the self is rife with uncertainty due to the potential unknowns about the self, with which one must contend. These unknowns can be ego–shattering, and can lead to an experience of internal chaos.
So, what’s the point of this rambling, D.? Well, I suppose it could be referred to as a moment of indulgence, i.e. for a bit stream of consciousness writing. There is also this point: patience is a not just a virtue, it is a necessity, especially if one’s goal is to survive the unknown, to create order out of chaos, and to thrive during the process of it all.
With each breath
like the sunrise of this morning,
finding solace in the fragility
ashes can mean rebirth.
As I am
wings burnings flame red, yellow, orange,
welcoming finality as a friend
acknowledging that freedom
each moment experienced as the first
time with serenity and absent
-db (Spring 2005)
There are, I am certain, many ways in which patience can be defined, and perhaps more psychologically and scientifically-minded than what I am about to write.
It is my opinion that patience is the process by which one is able to repeatedly regulate his/her emotions in order to tolerate distressful situations. It is about allowing for an adaptive experience of the cycle of emotion. What exactly is the cycle of emotion? Well, it can be described as the stages/process that one goes through in order to manage his/her emotions. It might look like this:
Distressing emotion experienced leads to two choices:
Deny or Recognize:
Deny ->React ->Supress -> Escalate now or later -> Explode -> Dump ->Incomplete Resolution
Recognize -> Accept ->Release the energy by Expressing -> Clarifying -> Choosing an Action -> Resolution
(Taken from the Conflict Resolution Network site: http://www.crnhq.org)
So, how does this apply to patience? Well, patience is a choice. Right? Possibly, it would be developed during the stage/process of “Choosing an Action.” The action would be, if you are trying to develop patience, would be do nothing/wait. With every choice to simply do nothing/wait, one is developing patience.
Patience, in my opinion, is an extremely mindful practice. It involves an acknowledgement of one’s thoughts and labeling of one’s feelings in the moment. Thereafter, the goal would be to find an adaptive method of managing those feelings (e.g. deep breathing, taking a walk, talking to a friend) and reframing the thoughts, in order not to become reactive (which is just as good as saying “lose patience” in my world). It has been my experience that reactivity and impatience tend to go hand in hand. Thus, the less reactive one is, the more one is practicing patience.
I started this article discussing the fact that I used to engage in a great deal of waiting, especially during childhood. I went on to write that I became patient as an adult, having recognized the importance of the now, of the present. I suppose how I want to end is simply to state that I have learned the benefits of both being patient and of practicing the skill of waiting. And even though I may have my moments of anxiety, I am enjoying the process of patiently waiting for the future that draws nearer and nearer each day and becomes the present I am living.
Tomorrow is today as today is yesterday…
(Today is yesterday’s tomorrow)
“The past is behind, learn from it.
The future is ahead, prepare for it.
The present is here, live it.” – Thomas S. Monson
“Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.” – Albert Einstein
“…Now our lives are changing fast…
Hope that something pure can last…
We used to wait…”
I could make many excuses, and all would be equally reasonable, as to why I have not written in so very long. What I have come to realize is that no matter what, none of these excuses change the fact that I haven’t been writing, and that’s that.
Snow covered ground now
bones stiff with age like dried tree
limbs for wildfire
So, what, pray tell, have I been doing with my time over the last week and a half? Well, I have been learning what it means to be back in the Boston area, to be back with my family of choice, and to be around all that is familiar to me. Somehow, however, the familiar has not been as comforting as perhaps it should be. Rather, I find myself rather disconnected and jarred by the experience of being back… I feel displaced as though I have landed in a version of Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There, where I have stepped back into a life that is quite upside-down, backwards, and surreal.
Each morning the snow on the ground shocks me, and stiffens my bones. I spend my days perusing employment advertisements in English, Italian, and German. I research immigration information, and download more and more forms, and consider the challenges involved in moving to Rome. It is in these moments that I think about the days I have spent there, and the people, whom I have met; and most importantly, the person who I have become because of my journey to Rome. Thus, these challenges have become opportunities for self-growth in my mind, and I understand that it is only through perseverance that one can truly accomplish one’s goals. For myself, the goal now is to be happy, and at this moment in my life, where I am happiest is in Rome.
It has been amazing to me to hear the various responses when I say that I am planning to move to Rome. 😉 The conversations usually go something like this:
Me: “Yeah, I would like to move to Rome by the end of September.”
Person: “Wow! Do you speak Italian???!!”
Me: “Umm…. No, not really… Surely, I can learn though. Right?”
Person: “Yeah, I suppose…. Um… Do you know how hard it is to get a work permit to work in Italy??”
Me: “So, I’ve heard. I am a pretty positive thinker though.”
I am often amazed by how easily others can be deterred by a seeming obstacle. For myself, I recognize the challenge in getting a work visa, but it is not impossible – It is merely difficult. If, however, I simply threw my hands up in the air and said, “Oh, forget it! The Italian government won’t give me a visa!” then my cause is already lost, because I have already made the decision for them, i.e. that I do not want the work visa. This is not my way, however. I am laying the best foundation that I can, so that my application will be accepted, and if plan A (self-employed work visa) does not work… Well, there is always plan B (being hired by an awesome company who will do the paperwork for me)… And plan C is in development! 😉
Finding my path…
Thus, I begin by reaching out to all who I have known, asking for guidance and open to all ideas, and welcoming new persons and concepts. All in the hope that this will lead me to further wisdom regarding the path I am creating to achieve my goals… And my goals are far more complex than the desire to go to Rome…
There, and back again
warmth of Rome’s winter sun now
cold snow of Boston