Fara scapare











{09/13/2008}   Separation

Yes, separation is immigration’s little brother. The tough one. Of course paperwork, visas, moving in and out of several appartments, language issues, food (what if you move to China, or let’s say even closer to England…) don’t make things easy.

But the toughest is the first months’ loneliness. That’s bad. All of a sudden, you’re aloneDuring the first days and weeks while you rediscover ridiculous stuff like in which direction do you stick your subway ticket in the stamper (if it’s the case), or at what time does your train leave from work to your home, reading traffic signs and direction signs in another language, etc… These things distract you from being alone, keep you from realizing. I found my friends, they’re in my head… They’re not quite next to you but the last club discussion stiks in your mind as if it was yesterday, and then there are messengers, blogs, skypes… That will keep you ok for some months, possibly maybe a year. Then one day you wake up alone.

When do you actually feel separation?
When you wake up alone. Yes, I’m not kidding, this strikes you. Ok, so you wake up, but he must be there somewhere outside, cleaning his car, shoping for breakfast, working, and he’ll come back tonight. I’m sure. I’ll call him now, chat a bit and then we’ll see eachother again. Well… no. You turn to take the physical void in your arms at night out of habit. No, he’s not there, but he’ll come back … not tonight, but next month.

When you’re sick. When you pick up the phone and stop yourself from telling your mom some stupid thing like I have a conjunctivitis. At home it wouldn’t have been tough, that’s life, your eyes swell, but it will go away until you get married… From here you can’t pronounce the word. You lock yourself up in the house for two weeks until your eyes take back their original volume, you call home every single day to say that you’re ok and check if they’re the same.

When someone is sick at home. Chain reaction. They won’t tell you either that they’re sick… what did you think??? You find out after several weeks of smelling te fishy stuff three thousand kms away… The finally tell that yeah, dad had something all of a sudden, but not serious… normal for his age…  Then you feel separation in its toughest. You block. What if something happens??? You write to a friend on GTalk to calm doan. Ok, you can go home, but when? Now, later? What can you do? If you’re lucky enough to gave a sister or a brother, at leats there’s someone back home to support them. And when he/she tells you the story in a more objective and a bit tougher way getting angry that you exagerate and oevrstress … you break down. Finally it goes away, and then you get a mature advice that makes you grow up in ten minutes… after a certain age, there’s always something coming up, and then again you can’t help them if you overstress.

When you fight with friends over stupid things. Messenger is great BUT not for delicate talks… Then you can see an interesting fact: two immigrants in two different countries will always stress, but for different reasons, react differently and deveop different paranoias. Cultural influences…

THE separation is when finally your boy/girlfriend – with whom you though you had a sucessful 5 years relationship – leaves you. Exactly when you were starting to realize that even if you had doubts, if he had made mistakes, if you had made mistakes, when you were getting proud you’ve made it while others failed, when you were starting to make plans… Suddenly one day you start to feel the separation shadow hovering above you and you stress. You start writing, calling, leaving messages, giving all the attention you failed to before… sometimes it works. It didn’t for me. One weekend around my birthday everything sunk. I’m not saying I didn’t see it coming, I knew long before that distance relationships don’t last, but I was hoping.
– You’re capavle of detaching yourself and get on with your life, not me. These were tought years for me.
(still HE was leaving me). And the typical phrases of being friends, I care about you, I don’t want to see you suffer, if you do I will, etc… After five years they sound … void. We all thought/said them once. I don’t think I will ever tell them again. If I ever go thorough one separation again (God, no!) it will be direct and simple. He’ll hate me and go on easier.

So, yes, separation is the tag of every immigration. If you cannot swim through it, don’t jump. Sure there are positive things, of which I will talk, but this si one daily reality you can’t deny.



et cetera