Dystopia return

I have been at home for the first time in three years.
And I really mean at home, with all the people that belong to it.
At least those who are still alive (the number is shrinking …).

And did it make me happy?
Did it give me the same kind of energy as earlier?
This positive energy to get started and do things, and to get my life in order?

„No, but our panic attacks got a lot spicier“, my witch giggles into our cherry flavoured tea.

That is true.
Although I am back … Well, now I wanted to type „home“, but that would be confusing!
The home I referred to earlier meant the place I grew up in. Hamburg. The home I now wanted to refer to is an unknown medium-sized city further in the west of Germany. I can almost walk into the Netherlands (for orientation).

And well, since I am back here in my reality, I can control my panic attacks much better, but they are still there.

I wondered why they started.

Before the pandemic started, I always came back to Hamburg to join my mother in a music week for children taking place every year. It is taking place in the church I was raised in (but left, because I don’t believe in god!), but is explicitly not a religious project, since the church is part of bigger social projects for that part of Hamburg.

So, I came back to help create the same magical experience that had shaped my childhood for other children. A week to learn several music pieces, even for those children that had never played music before! We would even go to a child-friendly opera all together, and after our very own concert, we would have a sleepover with a lot of little traditions like a night walk and ice cream at midnight (yes, really!).

Those were the happy moments of my childhood, and as a younger adult, I needed that energy to get me going and to take the important steps in my life.

It was there that I decided to become a teacher.
It was there that I fell in love with someone, although I had brought him there and he was my guest.

It played a major role in my life. Maybe also because the rest of my childhood was not exactly happy, and this was like a replacement family.
We all say that about it.
We are a little family.

And now that we were all back together after all these years, we had to count the losses, and had to catch up on where we are, and I have to admit that I am nowhere I thought I would be.

This is not all bad. At the moment, I work a job I never thought existed.
But I did not become a teacher and have trouble explaining what I do to the others.
Also, I have no one there to connect over my creativity, and as you see on my blog, that means a lot to me.
And most women my age in that community already have children.
I also want to have a child one day.
But I am so not there yet.
Not by the slightest bit.

It is not that I don‘t like my life the way it is now, but ever since the pandemic disrupted my reality, I found so many new things for myself that I struggle to see consistency, and I would really need to see that to get back to my old strength!

And all those years that I spent mostly alone at home, missing to be there and do exactly that left an emotional echo inside of me.
A scar.

So, I went back to the place and the people that had always made me the happiest and all I did was feeling lonely and struggle with panic attacks.

Growing up never stops being tough, I guess.