I’LL BE THERE FOR YOU

Admit it, as soon as you read the title of this entry you started singing Friend’s song (I know, because I did the same and now I can’t stop it playing in my head. AAAHHHH!!!). Here is the link in case you feel the need to blast it out loud!

I have a very big issue with trust and relying on other people, developed in years and years of having to fend for myself, of being surrounded by irresponsible, unreliable, childish people, of being extremely disappointed at the answer of a simple “could you please do that for me?” and, generally, because I have always portrayed myself as the strong, can-do-everything-anytime woman who mothers everyone around her because “if I don’t do it then nobody will or they’ll fuck it up, so I might as well put up with this shit now”.

If there is one thing I’m extremely grateful to my parents is the way they drilled in my mind the importance of being independent, strong, fierce and ready to face anything in life. It took me years to discover that, like any other medal, even this one has two faces, and even if one is very positive, the opposite…. Not so much. My mother always said to me “whatever happens in your life, good or bad, make sure you can always walk with your legs only, should you need to: this is the essence of freedom. If you know that you can count on yourself (especially financially), you don’t have to worry about relationships ending, work not being there, illness striking etc”.
“Hope for the best but prepare for the worst” the famous quote says, and this has been my attitude in life so far. I worked my ass off to always be in a position where, whatever happened to me, I was able to handle it, whether it was an extra bill I wasn’t expecting, a problem suddenly exploding on my face, any issue whatsoever, you name it. I think that this is why, ultimately, I ended up being in relationships with reckless and irresponsible people, because not only I was trained to sort my life, I was also convinced I could handle their shit without breaking a sweat. Also, I was totally fascinated on how they managed to survive, living day by day if not hour by hour, without a care in the world whilst I was frantically thinking of ways to cope with life.

And here is the opposite side of the medal for you… and I soon discovered how nasty it is by marrying the Chief Reckless and Irresponsible Officer of the world.

I can tell you, hand on heart, that I rarely have been more frustrated than having to fuck my credit score up by getting extra cash from those short-term loan sharks to pay for mortgage and food, all because my ex-husband was a “misunderstood talent”, or “this job is not for me”, or “they are all cowboys and don’t get fine dining” in yet another restaurant, meaning that he was yet again jobless and with no income, our household was again one salary down and we were big time fucked up. I ended up maxing out credit card after credit card, I lived payday by payday, spending endless sleepless night thinking “ok what bill can I delay this month? What service can be suspended without being too much of a hassle? What credit can I put my hands on to drag my family till the next salary” and I’m telling you, fighting post-natal depression plus being in a permanent state of anxiety was not a piece of cake. In all of this, he has been totally, delightfully at peace because to him, a life of constant struggles was not an issue and, anyway, he knew I’d fix it eventually, so why worrying?
I sat down with him so, so many times telling him “for fuck sake, you are on the brink of being forty years old, you are not a teenager, you have a family, you need to be responsible, you need to get yourself in a position where, should anything happen to me (and I was suicidal when I said those words, mind you), you’d be able to provide for you and our son! You cannot rely on me, what if a car hits me and I cannot work for months because I’m bedridden in an hospital room?” and so on. The answer? “yeah, you are right, but it’s not me, it’s them, they don’t understand me, I’m doing my best, but, but, but…”. And just as he predicted, there I was, fighting to live another day, counting pennies in my pocket and praying to survive another month with food on the table and a roof above our heads, eventually managing to putting a patch on yet another issue, giving him freedom to fuck it up again and again until, eventually, I left him and he almost ended up in jail (and, as far as I’m aware, his problems are all still there and counting).

After all of this, I became wiser and savvier, right? Do you think, after my marriage finally broke up for good, that I have learned my lesson? Of course not.
So there I was, bailing out people from their issues just because I hoped that, by doing so, they’d love me and fill the void I had inside, and maybe, just maybe, return the favour once. Yeah right, if I had to get back all the money I’m owed, I’d could easily repay one of my credit cards and cut it for good. What a dumb ass I have been.

Eventually, I toughened up, and especially after being dumped and, consequently, starting therapy, if anything I became extra super duper closed up in my own world: there was me, my son and no one else. No fucks given, no taking care of anyone else’s shit, your issues are not my issues, go beg someone else, goodbye, good luck, fuck off. Just like any other day in my life, it was me against the world, fighting all these wars alone, scarred but undefeated: all these experiences taught me once again that, unless I was by myself for myself, I would only end up in more mess than what I already was in. There was no trust, no ability to rely on anyone but myself.

For the record, this applies (and still does, to a certain extent) at work as well: if I start a list of all the shit I decided to deal with because I couldn’t trust anyone to do it by themselves, with a “I rather work 73485728 hours a day and do it correctly once, than having to then put up with the aftermath of a mess caused by incompetent people” mindset, oh boy, I would be able to fill the biggest encyclopaedia of the world and more. If it wasn’t for my dear friend and colleague Marge, who I know she has my back just as much as I have hers, I’d still be doing meaningless stuff to this day, end up pissed off big time, then frustrated, then miserable because “I have so much to do and I’m underappreciated”. This is one of the first thing I managed to get rid of, because now I’m so “I don’t really care if you fuck it up, it’s your problem not mine” that I managed to finally keep the bullshit away from me: I don’t care if your corporate card gets blocked, it’s not my responsibility if you can’t dial a phone number on a phone, I’m not your event planner so you can go to the pub by yourself, I’m no Michelin restaurant guide so you can book a restaurant by yourself and so on. Leave me out of it, thank you.

Things have changed in my personal life quite dramatically when my boyfriend came back in my life, moths ago, as a brand-new person, and being a brand-new person myself as well, we started to get to know each other again and, once we re-discovered how strong we are together (this time, in a positive way), we started to lay down the foundation of our relationship step by step. Amongst the things I’m having to learn now there’s trusting him to not only be there for me, but to also take care of me and my son. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I don’t have to fight anymore, that there are no enemies of my physical, mental or financial wellbeing out there, just few clouds passing by, annoying me a bit; we are walking together in this journey, side by side, strolling through this journey of life. I have never experienced such thing (aside from Marge and few other people in my life). Old me and new me are having a war of words against each other, with the old me trying to take me back to perceive the world as a threat, and the new me thinking how it’s so blissful to be able to shut down the noise of “did you think about that? What about that issue? How about that bill? How can you pay this or that? The nanny? The school? The house? Etc…” because I know, deep inside, that I can rely on him whenever I can’t do it by myself; it feels like my brain can, at times, be on a little vacation, stretch a bit and relax.

This week it’s going to be a challenging one and my boss already came round, asking me to be a good girl and not bite the head off anyone… I couldn’t promise him that, but whatever will happens, I know now there is help at hand.  

TOMBOY MUMMY

The other night I was snuggled in bed with my (not so little anymore) bundle of joy (aka my son). We were watching cartoons after dinner, and out of nowhere he looked at me and asked “mummy, why babies are in mummies’ tummies? Was I in your tummy? What did I do when I was there?”

First thought: “hooooly shit. Fuck, I’m so screwed!”

Second thought: “please come up with a very nice answer that won’t lead to the school calling you because your son said some weird stuff, like the time you told him his gastroenteritis was caused by bugs like little spiders and then he made a very creepy picture the following week, and you had to have an hour long call with the school about it…..”

I managed (hopefully) to dodge this massive bullet with a very easy and clear explanation that he accepted without moaning too much. Then he hugged me, told me he loved me and that was it. I held is little body in my arms and I thought “damn, my boy is so growing up”.

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me and my little boy a year or so ago

I did so many things I am not quite happy about in my life so far; I don’t necessarily regret them, since they brought me to the place, mentally and physically, where I am now, but put it this way: if I could go back in time, I may not necessarily repeat them the same way I did them the first time. However, there is one thing I never, ever, ever regretted, not even in my darkest times, not even when the world crumbled and collapsed straight on my sole shoulders: becoming a mum.

I never had the “mother instinct” or dreamt about having children. It was just one of those things I didn’t care too much about, but that “if it happens it will be ok”. I never felt “that pressure”. Yes, people around me nagged about the fact that I should have put “one in the oven” once I got married, but still, me giving a shit about it was not something truly happening. I was absolutely clueless about anything related to babies; I never had any young relatives around me when I was younger, I never played with dolls, I just never ever. EVER.

From the moment I held this tiny life in my arms, I felt my heart bursting with love. I couldn’t believe that my body, my horrible, hated body, made such a wonderful, living and breathing (and fucking hell, crying and pooing and vomiting) creature. I spent ages just cuddling him, keeping him with me, on me, kissing him and making sure he was fine. In my case, the saying “when a child is born, a mother is born” is so, so true.

I’m a single mum as we speak, though it is fair to say I’ve always been that way. At times, I must admit, it is a curse: I wish I could get a free pass now and then without having to beg babysitters or my parents to fly their asses from Italy to help me; oh, I would love a proper night out without worrying about coming home when the sun is rising. However, aside from these things, I know I love it just the way it is: me and him, doing our own things the way we want it. I always tell my son “you and I, we are a team” and every time he gives me the biggest smiles.

I’m not a perfect mother and I’ve never been one since the beginning of my life as a mum. I don’t look “like a mum”, I don’t behave “like a mum”; at best, I’m a tomboy mum: more than once, at the school gates, I’ve been asked whether I was my son’s older sister, au pair, baby sitter, nanny…. Just because I go and pick him up in my leather jacket and heavy metal t-shirt. Few mums gave me “the looks” more than once, like “how dare she”: I kept staring at them, dead in the eyes, waiting for them to utter any word against me. Like I care. To me, all that matters is my son and his education; anything else, including mums with too much time in their hands who bitches against me, I don’t have a single fuck to give. We live in a rather “posh” town, though my neighbourhood is quite “normal”. When we moved here 3 and a half years ago, it was march, the weather was quite cold still, so I was always clothed like the Michelin man from head to toes. When the warmer days came round, I stopped wearing 4 layers of extremely thick tights and just put a pair of shorts or shirt…. And all my neighbours, who were used to have a rather “average” woman strolling around, pushing her lovely toddler comfortably sitting on the pushchair, suddenly discovered yours truly was no average at all. More than one of them where left quite perplexed at my tattoos, my metal shirts, my leather jacket and me being… well… me.

It is weird in a way that my appearance makes people think that my son is a wild, feral creature. Fucking hell, few tattoos and a slayer t-shirt, and people are quickly to assume you are a mom from hell. It couldn’t be further from the truth: I am strict with discipline, make no mistakes about it. My son behaves like a little soldier and I wouldn’t have it any other way; I do hate spoiled brats and misbehaving kids so hell would freeze before my son becomes one of them. It is kind of funny: once I got into the idea of having a child, I desperately wanted a boy because well, a girlie-girl, princesses-loving daughter would have had a very bad time with me at the time, so when I discovered I was expecting a boy… it felt like winning the lottery of life.
Well, my son is definitely a boisterous, loud, crazy boy, don’t get me wrong, but is also quirky in his own way, a very gentle soul, way more into fashion than me, he loves my makeup, knows all the shades of colour better than me (“muuuuum – eyes rolling – this is not just BLUE, this is turquoise”) and yes, when we need to go out, he takes ages before he decides what t-shirt goes with which trousers AND the shoes. He cracks me up sometimes when he goes into fashionista mode and tells me stuff like “muuuuuum you can’t wear your working shoes to go shopping!!” or “mum that lipstick you are wearing is so cool!”.

He is 100% involved in my life. Of course, I shield him and protect him from all the horrible stuff, including whatever his idiot of a dad (my ex-husband) did who almost got him arrested, but on a normal, day to day basis, my son and I have no secrets. Whether is “mummy will come late tonight ‘cause she is going to see Kreator” to “mummy is not ok because her heart is a little bit broken”, my son and I are on the same page. He knows he can tell me whatever he feels or thinks, and that we can work together through any issue: he always says, “we are a team” and yes, we are. Sometimes I feel like it is us against the world.

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Chelsea fan @ Stamford Bridge

Whenever I can, I try to make him experience the things that are part of my life: when he was two, I took him to see Megadeth & Lamb of God with me, and he ended up eating chocolate with Randy Blythe (Lamb of God’s singer); when Randy asked him “hey, do you want to sing with me on stage?”, my (usually extremely shy) shy son grabbed his hand and said “yeah, let’s go”. He even had a “party” with Megadeth, and Dave Mustaine (the frontman) taught him how to do the horn sign. I took him to Stamford Bridge more than once to see Chelsea FC playing, and believe him, it is like having a pundit sitting next to you: if he is not singing, he is talking ALL THE TIME. He is a regular at my office, where he knows everyone, from the big boss to all my colleagues. He even attended more than one (real) meeting just because he was loving the attention: he managed to sit on a forty-five minutes call pretending to take notes like he was a real employee!

I must admit, I’m scared if I think at the future, because the more he grows, the more there will be just so much I can do to protect him; he will have to fend for himself more and more, and “a huggie and a kissy” won’t make up for whatever will happen to him. One thing is for sure: till I can, whoever will try and break his heart, or bully him, or whatever, will have to face ME.
Believe me, I’ll be more than happy to storm around with a cricket bat to teach people a lesson or two.

OH, YOU ARE MY BEST FRIEND

I have been thinking about writing the following entry for a while, but I have never found the words, or moment, to do it. I kind of avoided talking about my best friend so far because she is the most precious person I have in my life after my son, and even though it is not the first time I shout to the world what an incredible person she is and how much I love her, I kind of kept her away from my blog because… because she deserves so much, and when this thing started I was not in the right mental place to honour her.

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This is one of the craziest pictures of me and my best friend, my sister from another mother, my soul mate, my partner in crime, my beautiful friend Sara. Yes, I was dressed as a unicorn, for the record. Yes, it is not the best picture ever, we probably had one drink too many to care anyway when we took it.

We know each other since the dawn of time, but we became very close friends few years ago: my life was shit (I had recently told my ex husband that he was, well, an ex) and she wasn’t doing great either. We started talking, and then sharing our stories, and before we knew it, we were spending every second we were awake texting each other.

People dream about finding “the love of their lives” and make no mistake, I still long to be loved romantically, but what I have found in my friend goes beyond that: she has been there on my side through whatever storm I had to face, whether big or small; she listened to anything I had to say, without passing any judgement, with her arms open to accept whoever I was in that moment (including an inconsolable, depressed mess); she gave me comfort, strength, love, care; I never, ever once felt embarrassed of being truly myself with her, because she is too special, she has always loved me way more than what I loved myself and she never failed to remind me of that, even when I was too depressed to appreciate it. She has always been the only light in my dark, horrible tunnel, and  I know that whatever life will bring, she will be just one text away from holding my hand and helping me facing my next war.

She is more than my heart, more than my soul. She is an angel. When nobody remembered I existed, she was the only one who made sure I had the most amazing birthday present waiting for me at home. When I spent two weeks crying solid because my ex boyfriend dumped me, she knitted the softest, most precious scarf so that I could have wrapped myself in it and feel her hug. When I screamed at the world how ugly I felt, she painted the most beautiful portrait of me to remind me that whoever I see in the mirror is not what she sees. Honestly, I am the luckiest person in the world to be able to receive the honour of her friendship, and I always feel like I don’t do enough to celebrate her and to tell her what a gem she is.

Hey, it is not all tears and sadness though: when we are together and the mood is right, we barely breathe so much we are laughing. We are like two peas in a pod. We could spend endless days in pyjama on the sofa without even getting up to go to the toilet. I remember the first time she came to stay for a week at my place: before she arrived, we planned billions of activities. Oh we were supposed to do everything and anything, partying hard, drinking even harder, crazy life. Well, we barely left the house, and when we did it was because we had no other choice (like when we ran out of toilet rolls…).

We can talk very deep and serious things, and three sentences later go bonkers and tell each other the most hilarious jokes ever heard. We curse like sailors, we drink prosecco like it is sparkling water and we could potentially live on a diet based on Aperol Spritz and lasagna.

There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her.

My love for Sara is immense, and I’m grateful, honoured and blessed to have her in my life.

I love her so much, and to preserve our beautiful friendship, I recently felt the need to “push her away”, because I was becoming a horrible person and she didn’t deserve such an awful person like me on her side. I was in a very dark place, my head was full of disturbing thoughts. I was scared, I was badly scared I was slowly going back to my dark hell. She was living a truly magic moment and I was just not in the right mind: I got dumped by what I thought it was the love of my life (more like the leech of my life, but it took a while to see it), I was humiliated, used and abused; he managed to crush every single bit of me and I felt lost, helpless, useless, stupid…. at the same time, she was beginning a new relationship, and living exactly the opposite. I just wanted to die, because even though rationally I was absolutely thrilled for her (and I still am!), at that point in time, everything she was experiencing was exactly everything that it got ripped off from me. I had to take a break, I had to be alone this time, truly alone, to face my demons by myself, because letting her enjoy her moment was paramount and she didn’t need a negative, depressed and damaged person on her side. Also, I knew I could have hurt her down the line (not voluntarily, of course) because I was simply not remotely capable of thinking straight, and believe me, I would have rather killed myself than do anything to make her sad. Coming back to her when the dust settled and the dark, negative fog left my mind felt truly special. To quote Harry Potter (that she really loves), it was like when Ron came back to Harry and Hermione after he left, due to having his mind clouded by holding the horcrux for such a long time: he not only came back to save the lives of his friends, but also managed to destroy the horcrux with the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Ok, I didn’t save her life, but fuck yeah I destroyed my fucking horcrux for good (and boy, it felt so good being able to put “the end” once and for all to that chapter of my life).

So yes, my beautiful, gorgeous, incredible friend: I absolutely love you with every single atom of me. I damn the distance that keeps us so far from each other, but as the saying goes “true friends are never apart, maybe in distance but never in heart”. Never forget my special gift (the mighty lemon) is waiting for you, and it will be my absolute pleasure seeing it on you. You deserve everything and some more, and I will always be your friend forever.

Ooh you’re the best friend that I ever had
I’ve been with you such a long time
You’re my sunshine and I want you to know
That my feelings are true
I really love you
Oh you’re my best friend”