First Welcome to Me and My Head
Never Ending Mommy issues, impossible (self) defining age and adventure to the worst hood ever(adulthood)
I woke up this morning, not bad but I think it was because I hadn't decided the problem of the day in my head yet. I wrote to her and asked her how she was, we don't talk much, I see her as a mentor and she said eh meh, I wondered what it was but she didn't want to tell me much so I didn't pressure her, she -my successful mentor in her 50's- confessed to me honestly but maybe embarrassed just said “mommy issues”, I told her “mommy issues forever ,right?”. I guess so, that's the first topic for this morning, our unresolved mommy issues. Last week I had a big crisis with my mom, this week we talked happily in the morning as if nothing had happened, until the next crisis... My therapist said that neither you nor your mother will change, but your expectations, at least yours, might change. Which I don't think will change, there will always be that little girl in me who wants to be approved, who wants to be understood and who wants to be loved unconditionally. It's not that my mom can't give me that, she just can't do it every day. But isn't it very difficult or even impossible to do something every day? Still, isn't it natural for me to wait? I'm leaving aside mother-daughter problems.
It's noon and I'm on the phone with one of my very close friends with whom I did my master's degree. This time we are talking about our lives, about our careers that are waiting to blossom but never seem to take seed. I'm trying to motivate her and myself on how to become a girlboss, how to put more effort and put ourselves out there, how to make new initiatives. I'm excited to share with her the new idea that comes to my mind, I'm ready to make the world a better place and she shares my excitement. When I hang up the phone, I remember that I recognize the excitement of this exciting idea from somewhere. Then I'm scrolling through Instagram and an article pops up and I realize that the girl boss I wanted to be is actually long gone, replaced by new, chill women who are still hustling their way through a slightly toxic life in a very brutally capitalist world. Then, me and my friend - as two educated, talented, intelligent women - I'm thinking about how we will find our place in the privileged art world as two non-white woman foreigners. How will I get a raise and change my job as a guardian/guide at the museum, how will she find a job related to her second master's degree in curation? And most importantly, will we extend our visas and stay in this country where we are both foreigners? Can marriage perhaps the solution? I try to relax that at least we have a plan B…
Still, before noon my growing pains and maybe even my delusions start to be triggered. But luckily I have antidepressants, I think. Why did I start all these medications two years ago? I went to the doctor and said I can't live in Turkey or France, but I still want to survive in France and hold on to life. I read in a book the other day that Jung said of a patient "she was never really born" and Beckett used this in a play. That day I was suffering from a classic pain about living, and I thought about this question; was I never born or was I unable to live? My next psychiatrist touched on the existential crises I experienced when I was separated from my family. My problem was growing up, maybe becoming an individual, an adult. I was 29 years old, I still have the financial support of my family, I still go to the doctor with my mother, when I broke up with my boyfriend I still go to Turkey to be with my family and friends for support. Yes, I am entering the worst hood ever, the adulthood and it hurts but the medication I take every day gives me relief.
What is it like to really grow up and become an individual - or rather, to exist as someone? Is it effortless? Scary? Or was I ever born? Which one of us really manages to be born? Would I be able to survive abroad on my own? What would I be when I grew up ?! How would I learn to breathe without my mother's approval and love? And what would I do when my mother died? Would I really be born and grow up then, but from whom would I receive that love and affection? Where am I and who am I?