good or bad characteristic?

Something happened during my childhood, and I am still unable to decide if it was good or bad. As a grown up I find myself belonging to the group of people who means what she says, and who does the best she can every day both at work an in my personal life.
Most people would say this is a positive quality to possess, as I am not a mediocre, and take full responsibility for what I do. I must however wonder, whether this quality is good to have in a world like today's, a world in which most people go around doing as little as possible and not really caring that much about what comes next or what is the objective of what they are expected to deliver.
Any average day at work consists for me of finding out which last minute crisis will not allow me to do the work I was planning to, and to develop contingency plans and/ or find solutions in the shortest time possible. Next I will try to get started to find out none of the pre-requisites for me to get my work started was completed, so that I get to spend the next few hours deciphering what was delivered to me, how it was structured and finally re-doing them. Finally, towards end of the day, when my brain no longer feels functional I get to start my real work, right on time to face the fact that I am obliged to leave the plant because of the German law not allowing me to work longer than 10 hours a day.
What went so terribly wrong that I actually get frustrated and sad at the fact that I cannot deliver my work to the expectations I set to myself, while others around me can feel satisfied when delivering half done jobs? Why do I think people will try their best, even after so many years of not seeing it? I know hope is the last thing that dies, and I assume that this is one of the reasons why I keep having faith. I would however think that it would be far easier for me to adopt the strategy I see around me and stop caring. Maybe then I would be able to feel more fulfilled with my work, and life. Maybe then I would be able to leave work every day without feeling I have under performed, under delivered, or that I have only done a lousy job. I would potentially even be able to get home and study Psychology as I have wanted for so long, instead of turning on my laptop in the evenings to work out my emails, so I don't feel I am falling that much behind my schedule at work, and keep communication to a decent level.
I am at the same time thankful to my parents because I know that without this characteristic, be it good or bad, I wouldn't be where I am. I would not have finished both degrees and gotten a job, and I would not have travelled to all the places I have been to. It is the same desire to get things well done which frustrates me on a daily basis than the one that enabled me to finish my studies and get a job, to plan my vacation and go to those places I wanted (and still want to go).

That first cut

Sometimes, when I look at my wrist and see the now almost gone scars I try to remember that first cut. Was it during school exchange, in Husum, when I got into a fight with T.? Or was it in school in Colombia, one day I was very upset in the Psychology office? Despite the fact that I have a good memory, those events are not clear in my head, when each of them happened, and which one was the start of the cutting.
I do remember, however, that it happened many times afterwards. It didn't matter if I was in Colombia, or the USA or Germany, it didn't matter if I was in my dorm, at my parents' place or with my host family. It also didn't matter if I was dating or not. The episodes came, and the one thing I always remember feeling was saddness, and an infinite desire that my tears were caused by myself and not by others.
Whether the first one was in Husum or in Bogota, I know it relieved me. For the first time I was the one causing the pain I was feeling, and not my friends or classmates. I was in control of the situation (at least so I thought!) and was making the decision of making those cuts. After cutting I would clean the wound and cover it so it wouldn't get infected (I also bought special band aids that healed faster and had only that one purpose).
As a grown up I wish I had the power to go back into my teenager brain and recall what it was that the first cut triggered. I believe it showed me I could be in control, and in days the bullies were making my life miserable I felt better crying because of the pain in my arm than because of their words. It also could have meant that I did not tell those around me what I thought of them at the very moment, and all the anger and frustration I had went into whatever cutting element had fallen into my hands. I do know however it was related to school, and school is where it happened with the highest frequency. I would lie if I said it never happened in college (my faculty advisor is a witness of the fact that it did happen) or that it never happened since I moved to Germany (I doubt anyone here could testify on this). Then, I would also lie if I said it still happens with the same frequency it happened back when I was a teenie.
Over the past 5 years I have spent a great deal of time and effort in facing my time in school, facing the fact that whether or not I like it I was bullied for years, and also recognizing to myself that I (still) have a distorted image of myself, both when I look at a mirror and I see an obese elephant starring back at me and when I think of myself as a person (for this second fact I have to rely on what others say of me, and how some do see me as a valuable person). It has helped clearly, as my arms now show-only one or two visible scars left- but I know it has not fully healed.
Frustrating days can be a challenge, when I get home and feel that trance-like state coming to me, that state I recall from earlier times during which I could observe myself making the cuts, and so can days when I am feeling lonely and find noone I can talk or chat to. For a big part of it I can now control it, tell the trance to stay away, or grab my computer and play something online for hours until the feeling goes away.
I don't want to give the blame for this on anyone: I am realistic enough to know that there must have been some genetic predisposition for something like this to develop in difficult times and also to acknowledge that, while I was growing up bullying did not exist as such. I do however hope that I will somewhen feel "healed", and will no longer have the feeling of trance approaching if I face difficult times at work or in my personal life. Most of all I hope that if I ever find someone who is experiencing what I have experiences I will have the courage to step in, and help this person find ways of coping that don't involve cutting, or burnong, or any similar.
We are all valuable as persons, we all have a lot to give to the world and to those around us, and we all need to learn to face the ups and downs in life, without feeling guilt and without feeling that we need to regain the control over situations that are not necessary ours to control.

Routines-girl

Over the past years I have became a person who day after day establishes routines for the time outside work, and sometimes for the time at work. It enables me to get out of bed and without needing to think or analyze any situation around me, get ready for work without missing anything. Lately I have also established routines for the weekends, I am not sure what the purpose is, but whenever I have a place to go to, a flight to catch, or just errands that need to be taken care of in the morning, I can get to start things on time. 

Once in a while, however, I sit in front of the tv or in my car and wonder whether or not it is healthy to have a life filled of routines, a life where any changes can disrupt my feeling of well being after the fact and cause guilty feelings when I have gone away from my set routine (let's be real, I love doing new stuff!).

Today I need to drive 200km to go celebrate Father's day with dad, something I am honestly looking forward to. I also heard my sister will be coming to this country in one week, and probably I will get to hang out with her once or twice this summer, assuming she does not travel around. Those two events or visits are clear "disruptions" to my routine, and while I will love seeing them and spending quality time with each of them, I find myself creating my contingency plan for how to face tomorrow, as I am already aware I will not be able to follow my routine tomorrow: I am staying overnight 200km away from my apartment, I will need to travel that distance in the early morning to get to work, and I will do my best to get to work at my usual time, and avoid any unnecessary changes to my regular routines or schedules at work.

Is this the normal way to live, or do my routines limit my freedom? What would happen if I get to work at 9am instead of at 8? I don't think anybody around me would mind it, or even notice it. I would not miss a meeting nor would I miss preparing a deliverable due tomorrow. Why then do I struggle to allow myself to "break" my routine, to be spontaneous?

I feel comfortable with the life I am living, not necessary happy, but I am used to it and at least for the time I have left where I currently am, I'll most likely keep following my routines. I hope however I will allow myself in my future to be spontaneous at least for a while and remember what spontaneity feels like. Maybe I'll decide to change then, or maybe I'll fall back into creating routines, but at least I'll offer myself the opportunity to bring a change into my life, and how I handle changes and sudden opportunities in life. 

kid

Over five years ago I lived through a few scary days: I thought I was pregnant, frsh out of college, not yet working, and having left the US , meaning, all by myself. While life showed me its wisdonm by not allowing me to become a single mother way before I could have been ready for it (let's face reality, I am not ready for it now, and it's been years!), it also taught me to consider the unthought of on every step in life.
I am not sure what my life would have been like if there had been a baby. I know I would have kept it, I know I would have gone to Germany (and would not have told my parents about the baby!),I would not have told the father, to allow him to follow his dreams and life, but I have to ask myself how the company would have reacted to a pregnant new hire.
What would my life be like now at 28 if I had a 5 year old kid? I would for sure not have travelled what I have, and I would not smoke the way I do (probably not at all). I guess I would only work the mandatory time, to be able to pick up my kid from daycare, and I'm sure I would not travel to Boston as frequently as I do. Maybe I would have gotten used to Germany, after all, according to everyone I know this is suppossed to be a great place to raise kids, and I can imagine the kid would have become my one and all in life.
A few days ago I remembered the fear I had when I though I was expecting, and I have been thinking since then whether or not it would have been good or bad for me. I still cannot come up with an answer. It would be very different for sure, and I hope if that had been the case I would have had the character to face my life and raise my kid the best possible way. Maybe I would at somme point have gained the confidence to go to the father and tell him, maybe not. I cannot tell for sure, as I always knew (he'd told me at some point), he "would never forgive a girl if she kept from him the fact he was a father", and that is exactly what I would have made.
All are questions and there will never be answers to them. It's just strange to think how different things could have been if a simple test had given "+" instead od "-", what a change that "+" would have brought to my life, to the way I interact with people, and most likely even to the way I think of politics.

Crossed Pathways

Often I ask myself what a graphic representation of my life and that of the people I have met in life would look like. The older I grow, the more I realize that the likelihood the path I've followed in life crosses multiple times with someone else's is high, and such a representation would look like an unorganized mesh.
As a little kid (4 years old) I had three good friends: LM, NT and NR. LM moved to Europe when we were in First grade, and over the years to Venezuela and Brazil. We met a few times while she was in Brazil, and after I moved to Europe we met twice in Switzerland. NR and NT finished school in Bogota with me, each of us chose her way, but last year NR moved to the same city I live in, after getting married to a German who got a job in this city.
At work we always say you meet at least twice during your career, and now that I have been almost 6 years in the company I see what it means: People I worked with during my first years in the company have  rotated jobs like I have and suddenly we meet again in different projects and roles, and in a few cases, also in different locations.
While I find it logic that even if there have been years since the last interaction, there is a common ground to start from in the new meetings, I have also realized that meeting new people who have had similar experiences also creates this common background to start from, and can even be a first step for friendship.
I have it easier to connect with travelers, with people who have a technical background, with people who went to the same uni I did, or with people who lived in the same cities I have lived.
At the same time, I struggling connecting with Colombians and with people who believe either in male superiority or in European superiority, even though those are situations I have been exposed to since my early childhood.
I consider myself lucky for the friends I have made over the years, regardless of what the reasons for our friendships are. It doesn't remove the weirdness of not feeling able to connect to my culture, the one I was raised in.

February 8th, 2013 Dundee

Maybe

Maybe it is time to start thinking again, or to stop doing so. Society has the tendency to dictate what is okay to do when and most of us follow its directions, sometimes willingly, sometimes without realizing we are doing so.
It's been a while since I last sat down to write, it's been a difficult time during which I did not even manage to motivate myself to follow my life, and writing was not really an option.
Looking back I can't point at a single event that triggered this phase: Maybe it was work, maybe it was the realization that I am now more lonely than I have ever been and lack the courage to approach new people. Maybe it was my 28th birthday reminding me of all those goals and dreams I had and I didn't achieve, or maybe it was something else.
Whatever the trigger was, reality is that my entire world collapsed: work, family, study, health and friends, and with that I lost control over my life and over myself.
How come I decided to skip carnival this year? Why did I decide to go skiing all by myself? Why did I  book a trip last minute for New Years? Maybe I am trying to escape from myself, or maybe I am trying to find myself.
If I look right and left I get scared at how fast things are changing, how my feeling of inadequacy increases by the minute, while I fail to point at the reason or reasons for it. Maybe it is the happiness of those who surround me, always reminding me of my struggle to accept my life as it is. It could also be the challenges at work, throwing me frequently into a complete state of hopelessness, or that spiral that caught me months ago and won't let me out: it just moves faster and faster and pulls me further into it.
Maybe I should try to start over again sooner than planned, or I should shield myself to my surroundings, so that noone and nothing can reach me. Maybe I should take one day at a time, and wait for the changes to come by themselves.

Late January 2013

Fahrerflucht

Germany is the land of rules: There is a rule for everything, and while I refuse to read the entire book of regulations, I often feel there must also be a rule for when you are allowed to just be alive.
Yesterday I broke a rule that I didn't know was one: on my way home from work there had been an accident to my right, so I went left to avoid going over the closed area of the accident. A car came on the opposite lane to mine on my left, so I drove carefully, paying attention to my left to avoid an accident. This caused me to oversee some traffic cones on my right, which I hit. When I felt the impact I looked on the rear miror and saw 2 cones flying. In my head and world, hitting a (or in this case 2) traffic cone is not a car accident, so I kept driving.
Once at home the door rang: it was the police coming to inform me that I had had an accident and left without being authorized to do so by the police, and an official report had been filed by the authorities. They had taken a look at my car and seen there were 2 marks of the cones, and I was free to give them my version, if I wished so. The consequences can be to lose my license, and or a fine, there will be an official process opened, and a judge will decide what my punishment should be.
I must wonder how things work here. I can't understand how hitting a traffic cone and not calling the police is against the law, and I must also sadly realize that it doesn't matter how long I have been in this country, and how hard I try to always be within the law (when I fly to Europe I don't even bring more cigarettes than what I am allowed to), I will never understand the rules, the country or the people.
After the police departed yesterday, once they had written down my version and checked my driving license, passport and property card of my car, I could only reassure myself that my decision to leave this country and return to my beloved Boston is the right one. It's been 6 months since I requested the move, school applications are in and in 2-3 months I should hear back from the schools. This won't last forever, and yet I'm afraid of going on the street, driving, and just existing in a country in which I clearly don't belong. A country where I feel overwhelmed every time I want to get something done. My time here is coming to an end, and I can only wait until the end comes.