Have a seat. Bring a cup of tea or coffee cause it is gonna be a long chat.
I could easily tell my story in a way that my life would seem really exciting, because it was not an eventless life and on top of that I always had a very rich inner life. But the matter of the fact is that it never was that exciting. Or lived in a way it is considered normal. I mean, it is interesting because it is not what anyone would call a normal life. I am sure I am one of a kind. And that is good. But there are important things that are missing and in my point of view, very important. And lots of reasons to be shameful about it. Let me illustrate it better so you can probably understand.
Since I was born I felt like I was hanging upside down from inside out. All wrong. When I was a child I was so afraid of everything… Specially of making my mother worried. She got so nervous about anything that making her nervous for any reason made me anxiously nervous. And I was also a hypochondriac. Not the kind that love to take some medication, but the type that would think I was dying just because I had a cough or a bruise.
As a teenager I thought I was adopted because I could not relate to my family. I felt a stranger, observing, hardly interacting with people around me. I felt so alone… They thought I was a shy, silent little girl but I was only off place. The truth is I never felt I belonged. To my family. To my friends. To my school. To a place. To a job. To a hobby. To a group.
The most vivd memory I have from my teen years is me, in the pool, in a swimming lesson unable to get out of the pool from its border cause the day before I had fell and had hurt the nerve in my arm but did not want to tell my mother so she would not worry about it. The other classmates were already seated at the border and me, unable to do so. I could have asked for the guy at my side to help me, but I could not. I don’t know why. I just couldn’t. The thought was there but the voice asking for help was never sent. So I kept on trying till I managed to do so. On my own. And eventually I did.
In many ways I am still that little girl.
As a young adult I lost touch with my dreams, my purpose, somewhere along the way. I became so afraid of failing that I would rather not trying at all. And I kept on doing it over and over again. In my personal life and in my working life. As I was getting older I became more on my own, alone, even if I have always being surrounded by my family. I felt as if I had retired from life at the age of 20 something. I did not want to do anything. I did not feel inspired to do whatever. I felt as if there was something holding me still on the ground. Interacting with people became a hard task for me. I became more isolated than ever. I had no idea on what to do, where to go. I was lost. And nobody noticed that I was silently screaming for help. The thought was there, but the words never came out. They thought I was eccentric or weird or lazy. Or did not care at all about whatever. But I was not. And I did care. And I knew it. I knew something was wrong and I was desperately trying to fix it on my own by understanding where I got that from. Maybe a bad experience, a traumatic event, karma? But could not see how. Nothing ever came up. And then the years passed by and I was still stuck, not knowing where to go. Without a dream and a purpose to push me in some direction, I stayed there, still, just watching. Watching my life passing by.
Just in my 30s I kind of found a purpose. Or something like it: I started blogging. It seemed a good alternative, a possible work that I could do on my own, isolated. And I need to feel useful, to feel that I was able to produce something. Plus I saw it as a great opportunity to start doing what I always taught my bliss was: writing. A bliss that I could never embrace because I was and still am too afraid to fail, to not be that good, to not be perfect. Anyways, I started blogging about men’s style. By that time I had done an AICI course to become a Personal Stylist/Image Consultant but the course was all focused on women with just a little info on the male’s side. I thought it was a good opportunity to learn more about it. As I was learning I was sharing. And the blog became somewhat successful. I worked my ass off on that blog. From the moment I woke up till the moment I went to bed I blogged. I hardly traveled cause I was afraid something happened and I was not around to fix it. I never made a living from that blog for many reasons: I did not feel comfortable in monetizing with it, I did not know how to get things done and the people I could turn to always tended to put me down in whatever I wanted to do so I kept the blog a secret. My secret contribution to the world. I even blogged under another name. Ok, about that: I never liked my real name. Fab is a short for my real name. Anyways, since I never liked and did not want my family to find out I was blogging, I wrote under an alias. Which also kept me from monetizing with it. Cause I thought I was a fraud just because of it.
I also never told anyone I know, my friends or people I have just met cause I feel so uncomfortable with people I know reading me… It is weird but so true. Go figure.
Back to my story: I blogged to become more comfortable in writing. And I did, but instead of pursuing my writing bliss I just stay in the blogging comfy zone. This is one of the reasons why I no longer blog (till starting this one for another go) about men’s style. And because I though my cycle for that subject had been closed. And because I wanted to do other things. And because I could no longer focus or writing properly cause my B12 deficiency happened. And it took me a few years to put me back on track. Any track. I will tell more about this chapter of my life in the future, but for now I want to say that as a vegetarian I should have known better about how to deal with the B12 thing. But hey, not even doctors know much about it, so how could I?
But finding out about it, dedicating myself to heal my B12 deficiency and all the side effects it caused me (and there were lots of) and restoring my methylation cycle to its almost optimal self are the reasons why I feel I can indeed start living at the tender age of 47. Because now I feel again myself and I had not felt like that in a very long time. I don’t know since when I become impaired because of my unknown B12 deficiency but knowing what I know now I guess the effects must have started in my 20s since I became a vegetarian when I was 16. With age it just got worse, specially during my perimenopause years around my mid to late 30s.
And I haven’t even talked about my romantic life. Oh, my! Don’t ask how many years I had been without sex. But that is not even the worst part. The worst was having my heart frozen for a very long time. When I was a teenager I used to fall in love so easily. Ok, back then I fell in love easily but actually dating… was not that easy, not that much going on either. I only lost my virginity when I was 20 or something. And I felt really embarrassed to confess that cause everybody else was having theirs way earlier. Of course that my first time was nothing like anybody’s else either. But that deserves a post for itself. Later.
Anyways, after a long time alone and hopeless to find someone or even to have a possible date going on in my life I went on my first app date ever and the first date after a very long time and guess what? I found someone. I cannot tell if he is the one but I am really happy and opened to find out. We are just getting to know each other and we will see. In the meantime…
Here I am, blogging again, now for women like me, being able to see that light at the end of the tunnel, rebooting my life and willing to just live. Not working on my book and script yet but thinking about the stories I want to tell. And that is what I want to share and register around here: a little about me. And also challenge myself by doing things that kind of terrify me, like posting selfies, making videos…
Let’s see.
I hope you enjoy the ride with me.
See you?
Fab After 47 