A Good Girl

I read this article today about how some women will do everything and anything to please people around them, how in order to be liked they will sacrifice their voice and suppress their needs, how to avoid conflict they will swear that what matters to them is not really such a big deal. 

Sounds familiar?

Oh yes, indeed. 

Starting from my mother... She gave up her life, literally, to be loved by this one man. She put her life on the altar of self-sacrifice and before she was able to turn the tide it was too late and the unhappiness took swiped her away. She wanted to be liked and loved like anybody else in the world and she would compromise. She would compromise to win his approval, she would start believing that what she really wanted deep in her heart didn't matter: perhaps, that she wanted to much or that her expectations were unrealistic, silly... But they were not. They were hers!!! But she wanted to be a good girl. She wanted to be a great mother, a fantastic wife, a reliable friend. She looked after everybody but herself. And it proved to be deadly. Nobody then has to convince me that resigning from oneself is a terrible idea leading to a depressed, unhappy life. 

I think one life sacrificed this way is enough in my family. 

What about me? 

Well, I've also tried to be a good girl for a long time. I'm trying to deserve. It's slowly changing but it's difficult to alter those imprints I have in my brain and emotional memory. I know going to the States with Helena and Olivier is not a good idea for me. Not as a fake wife, not as a flatmate... I would like to be somebody's parenter, a wife possibly. Initially, I had said that the idea might not be bad... We spoke quite a lot about it... The idea of getting married on paper was strange to me from the very beginning but then I thought... oh well, maybe really, there is nothing to make fuss about - marriage is overrated anyway. And I tagged along in the discussion. Maybe living together and not being together wouldn't be bad - after all I would do it for Helena. Maybe thinking that doing all theses things because of love and with someone dear is just a fairytale and I'm big enough of a girl to know that life is not a fairy tale and I should compromise a bit. But deep, deep inside something was telling me that no matter what I would say and how much I would try to convince myself these things like family, partnership and love have a meaning to me. But I knew I would disappoint him. Oh, I already did when i decided to keep Helena and even before that... over a visa application... And how much I didn't want to disappoint him now again. How much I have wanted for all this time to please him and make him think good things about me.  So maybe I should just pack up without too much thinking, leave my job, leave whatever little I have here and go and make him happy. I would make him and Helena happy. Who cares about me! Who cares that I would be heartbroken and depressed. Nagh! Not a big deal - last year I was told I wouldn't have been the first and last person having an abortion, certainly I wouldn't be the first and last person going to the States and struggling there. And so I though and I though... Him on holiday with another woman in Vietnam... but I'm still thinking if I should trust him and  follow him to the Land of Plenty. It's not a big deal that my heart id already broken knowing that he is there (in Vietam) with somebody else. It's not a big deal that I know that he doesn't love me and he doesn't want to be with me. No! That is of no consequence. I'm still thinking and trying to please, I'm thinking how to make him happy. Maybe this way he will love me again (sic!)  I'm thinking, I'm thinking and I'm thinking more: should I stay or should I go? It's such a great opportunity and the family (sic! sic! sic! WTF!!!!) would stay together. Who cares about my life and my needs! Who cares! We will have two separate lives under the same roof: I will go on my dates, he will shag his women and then we will exchange some funny anecdotes overt the dinner. Sounds fun!

I know all these things but I'm still thinking.

Till one day, I can't think any more. I have a picture of my mom that I look at every day. It reminds me of her daily and reminds me how much I miss her. Actually, at different moments of life it reminds me of different things. She looked at me from this picture when I was agonizing over this decision of going to the States. She looked at me and, as usually, said nothing trusting that I have enough maturity and common sense to make a good decision. 

My mom was a wonderful person who wanted everybody to be happy. She forgot about herself. 

I also would like to make everybody happy, especially those people I love. I scared of conflict and preferably would like to avoid it. But mom has left the legacy. And her legacy is this: do not sacrifice anything for anyone, even if you love them - remember about what matters to you and stand up for it. Making everybody around happy can kill.

That I want to have a family is a big deal.

That I want to have partner who loves me is a big deal.

That I want to raise Helena in a house where people love each other and respect each others needs is a big deal.

That I am is a big deal.

That something or somebody hurts me is a big deal.

Things that I want and dream about are big deals. 

I am a big deal.

My mom was as well - she just never allowed herself to recognize this. She wanted to be a good girl.

 

Back to Paris

When I went to Paris in December, I was in love and felt on top of the world. I felt loved and appreciated, and thought that the man I am about to visit is the one I will share some part of my life. I was on cloud nine: in a very good shape mentally and physically, I thought life was my oyster.

And it was. We spent a wonderful time in Paris. I was treated like a princess, I was relaxed and loved, and I loved, and nothing forecast a disaster. 

We were supposed to meet again in few weeks in Bangkok to live with each other and to make a decision about our lives together. 

Then one day he said he needs time and that is never a good sign. I told him to take as much time as he needs and went back to my life thinking that it's normal he was hesitating, after all moving his life to Bangkok even if for a while was a big decision. It was Thursday. He said he will talk to me the following week. 

On the same Thursday I went out with my friends, had couple of drinks and in the morning I was dragged from my bed being so sick that when throwing up I felt my eyes popping out. I thought it was weird and it then crossed my mind that it might have something to do with being pregnant. I also remembered few days before that I felt dizzy and hot,  and sweaty and that I felt generally a bit strange. It was Friday.

On Saturday, I went to the cinema but before this, I went to Boots and got a pregnancy test. I was on my way to see PK, a Bollywood production and as some might know there is an intermission during an Indian movie for the toilet and drinks refill. I went to the toilet after the first part of the movie, did the test and after three seconds I saw the two red or purple, fat lines. I WAS pregnant.

Called Maggie. We met. Had dinner. I didn't call Olivier just yet thinking that he should have some space, as he required... I sat with this information and thought...

The next day I called the guy in France. No response. No response on the phone, no response on Skype, or Facebook. He finally got on Facebook and I begged him to pick up the phone. He said he didn't have time and if I had something important to say, I can leave the message on Facebook. And so I did. I wrote "I am pregnant, please call me." But he did not. For two days that felt like two centuries. 

I was going through hell in my head. On Sunday night, he finally facebooked me saying that he will call me the next day. It did not sound good to me. 

The fear started to grow and grow, and grow. I was scared and panicked and shaken up. I thought I was thrown into an earthquake, into a tsunami and the whole world was collapsing. Fear engulfed me and stayed with me for weeks.

Although I had friends around me, it was the loneliest time in my life. All in my head with my fears and the world around me shaking.

I waited and waited for this call from Paris. When we finally connected I did not see the same person I used to see on the screen. He was not loving and carrying any more and willing to share his life with me. Instead he made it clear that he does not want to have this baby and that the only option he sees in me coming to Paris and having an abortion. 

The hell broke out.

Few weeks later I was on my way to Paris. I was devastated, sad and defeated. I felt horrible. I felt depressed. I felt scared. I was on my way to Paris, the city of love but this time this trip had very little to do with love. It had to do with everything but love.

When I went to Paris in February, I was devastated and felt at the bottom of the world. I felt sad and defeated, and knew that the man I am about to visit would force me to fight for a very important part of my life. I was down: not in a very good shape mentally and physically any more. Life was not my oyster any more.