i don't think i'll ever get over it. every moment that i'm here is some anniversary of some other moment that i was here. it all seems incredible to me. it never stops seeming incredible. every moment is incredible.
i have been in berlin five weeks.
this is the first time, in an entire lifetime of reckoning moments in relation to other moments, that i've felt i am becoming consistently better, that i am healing instead of falling apart daily. that is not to say my days or weeks are devoid of sadness or problems; i just feel more adept at handling them. i do not feel dire. i do not feel incapable of surviving. this, for me, is an enormous success.
i feel willing and able to take care of myself.
it only took 25 years.
after a weekend of frenetic flea markets and sweaty clubs, long walks and enveloping afternoons in the sun, languid dinners and impossibly cheap ice cream cones, grapefruit hefeweizens and bottles of wine, i returned to the semi-normal world this morning in class. i am probably the worst student.
this is not true.
i am the worst at speaking. my grammar is excellent.
i felt dumb today and i told myself it was okay. i said, i will study tonight so tomorrow is easier. i do not have to be the best.
i think telling myself this is partially what has allowed me to relax somewhat. i have always felt i had to be perfect. the best. the favorite.
i am not perfect. i never will be.
thus, i feel constantly disappointed in myself.
a few weeks in germany has not entirely unravelled the suffocating grasp these ideas have on me, but they are loosening. i have a little room to breathe. i keep telling myself, i am beth. this is who i am. this is what i have to offer. i try to be kind and thoughtful and loving. i try to learn. i try to contribute. i try to be good. i can do nothing else. i can't make people like me. i can't make anyone anything. i learned that a long time ago.
after class rebecca and i went to badeschiff, which is a fabulous bar on the river. there is a sandy area filled with lounge chairs and beds, a deck with hammocks, and finally, a pool in the middle of the river. we swam and shared snacks and read books and talked and mostly laughed at each other. i laughed at her english words and she laughed at my american words and we were friends. i feel like i have known rebecca my entire life. we never stop talking.
we talked about those moments, when you feel so lucky and are so happy and want to remember everything just as it is. because we were both having that moment. i said, i think i'm in love. and she said, me too.
and then she said, maybe we should stay.
and we both knew we wouldn't stay, but it was the wanting of it that was beautiful. because we are in berlin and in this moment, a little english girl is lying on the pink towel next to me. and when i say pants, she says trousers, but we're both young and new and happy. and when we laugh, it's too loud, but the sun is out and we're sharing a baked potato and we love our families and we have every opportunity in the world and there is nothing else a person needs. sunshine, sustenance, love, possibility.
after i turned sufficiently pink, we walked home in our sand-filled shoes, ate some ice cream, and went our separate ways. that was my day. another monday in berlin.
the more i settle in, the less i feel i have anything of particular importance to say. but i suppose that is also something to work on. that it is not just sadness that is noteworthy or beautiful. but just being.
i am trying to let myself be. just be. just be. to not worry. to not try to control everything. to relax. to let go.
let go.
let go.
let go.
