Primal instinct25 February, 2021
Lavinia, February 25, 2021
Today little Liv was to be born… It is a frustrating thought that I cannot hold her, smell her sweet baby scent. All thanks to that nasty world enemy n ° 1. And of course because we live so far away …
I don’t know if I could survive the loneliness of 10 days of quarantine -or however long it has been in the meantime-, in Belgium, in the cold, alone somewhere in a hotel or something. By the way, isn’t the catering industry closed? And therefore also the hotels in Belgium? More and more I get the urge to go anyway. I am in constant battle with myself whether or not to get tested and to take flight to my family. I tell myself I’m needed here to help with the irrigation in the garden, to plant the vegetables, and so much more…
I know none of these are real reasons. And that my biggest hindrance is that I would be there alone. Should be. Maybe not even able to hold little Liv. As I write, I feel that I am writing off the fallacies and that I am starting to form a scenario to do it anyway. Maybe I can go for a few days. Three or four days. And can I continue writing my book. Maybe I should? Just to not regret later that I didn’t? Once in my life, for reasons that seemed more important at the time, I was unable to say goodbye to my “bobonne” (my grandmother) who was terminal. And that has played out for years. For years I carried those guilt feelings with me. I was still young, my first year of high school, and in the middle of the exams. Normally I saw my bobonne at least every week. But I didn’t want to fail my exams. I didn’t want to fail at anything. Do you recognize that? That perfectionism? That perfectionism that restricts you, that sometimes ties you down and limits you in your actions. That causes you to make the wrong choices on a human level? I made it, that wrong choice, back then. What had made a world of difference then, for her, and especially for myself, for my entire further psychological experience around her death, was that I had visited at least once. And I did not. How stupid was it to think that a short visit of two or three half hour visits would have prevented me from finishing my high school year properly? The last time I visited her was three weeks before her death. She then only recognized my mongoloid brother and me. Because we were perhaps a little more dear to her than the others. That’s how I felt it. And I denied her that little luck. To make her eyes shine, to see her tears of happiness sprout from her exceptionally light blue and clear eyes. To be able to hold her hands, her hands that worked so hard, a lifetime. To cry goodbye.
I did not do it. I carried my grief after her death alone, in silence, locked in myself. Only two years later did that painful, subcutaneous pimple burst open full of sadness, without my knowing of its existence – at least consciously.
I swore never to let that happen again. And now would I let it happen again?
Now I would again pass an extremely important event in my life without participating in it. It cannot be compared. And yet, deep sadness and intense joy and happiness are very similar feelings in intensity. I must at least give myself the opportunity to explore the possibilities and go for it. I’ll find a way. I hope.
How strange what motherhood does, and grandmotherhood. I really want to be closer to my children and granddaughter. With my parents, my brother. Physical. Even if it is with a mask, and even if it is outside, even if it is behind a window. I will have to make choices. And thick sweaters and long pants, and a thick jacket must be brought. Because I’m so used to that lovely warm sun here, the ever-blue sky.
Wasn’t spring also in Belgium with good weather? At least I saw pictures of the crocuses in my brother’s garden. Happy faces from people who have been so desperate for the sun. And unfortunately also took the train to the sea en masse.
Today in Spain it is most likely that the measures will be relaxed. The numbers have fallen dramatically, and that in just 3 weeks of stricter measures. The catering industry would reopen, and hopefully we will become the orange zone. It would make traveling to Belgium much easier. I am waiting for the starting shot of these decisions and the decisions taken by Europe and Belgium to leave on Monday. There is a lot of research involved, but I like to talk about it. And hope for a negative PCR test of course!
I can’t wait! Liv, here I come! I really hope so!