DAY 584

in {and out} Week 19: Antique

The last time I visited my mother, I brought the camera with me. I was thinking of taking some photos of a very old and beautiful porcelain pitcher that she inherited from her mother. I prepared the scene on my bedroom's bedside table and shot a few photos when I realized that I needed something else to improve the composition. I remembered having seen a box of old postcards inside my closet. I knew that my mother had put it there and it contained postcards that we had bought along some travels, visits to museums and so on. When I found it, I noticed that there was another box under it, I opened it and it was full of papers that actually were mementos of my time in the high school. There were also lots of letters sent by me to my mother during my first year at university.

I opened the antiquated envelopes and there I found sheets and sheets filled with my handwritten words. I glanced at some of them and read some paragraphs here and there, taking time to enjoy the wording, to analyze the way I used the terms to express what I was living or report my mood and suddenly,  I realized that I was witnessing the emergence of my adult being: I could feel the dreams of a better future, the concerns, the need to accomplish and to have control;  my determination to be independent and to be conventional, predictable, reliable in order to achieve approval; the way I was taking charge of my life, of my sentiments and of other's responsibilities... the way I was trying to fulfill other's expectations... the way early experiences and conditionings were starting to take a toll on my life.

I was only eighteen years old when I wrote them but the person who I would become was already there surrounded by naivety and joy and hopeful anticipation and wishful thinking. All the things mentioned above would result in highly self-demanding attitudes in the following years. They would result in excellence, in sadness and sorrow, in lack of boundaries and in the admission of abusive behaviors. In short, in the attempt to repress my true self.

I can hardly relate to this antique being that was arising from my infancy and has lived with me till recently. I cannot relate to the child I was, either. I can hardly relate to the way I behaved or to many of my priorities. I cannot feel anymore the heavy burden that I was always carrying or the sense of not belonging here with its dull pain. In fact, all this seems to have fallen into disuse. All this seems to pertain to an ancient era.

Of course, I remember the good moments, I celebrate the learnings, I cherish my strength, I treasure the love and guidance that have supported me and made me evolve and I appreciate my path. I can see also a common or unifying thread going through all my story, that helps me to identify what has been (and is) true and authentic in my life, my genuine self... but most of what I found in those letters (except for this unshakable thread which is made of faith and creativity and trust and passion and connection) belongs to a bygone era and as it is said: let bygones be bygones.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We´ll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project.