Over the last week I’ve been feeling like shit. Since last Friday, I found myself crying in the shower, in the park or while watching a reel about a blind dog or a paralyzed cat on Instagram.

I wanted to write this post for some time, but it’s such a hurtful subject and the pain is so big, that I was too afraid to do it. But, maybe as fresh air and clean water heal an open wound, maybe as a scar can form only if the skin is left exposed and dry, maybe as talking about your weakness only makes you stronger, so will talking about my fears.

Since Mr. Cane appeared in my life, I have a constant fear of getting out of the house. I’m afraid of falling, of being hit by a car or a bus, of being mugged, raped or kidnapped, I’m afraid of bus stations that are too crowded or kids that are too energetic, I’m afraid of stairs, cracks in the pavement or cobblestone, I’m afraid of the rain, the snow, the wind or darkness. I’m afraid of having to go to the bathroom and not being able to make it on time, I’m afraid of standing too long in the shower and tiring my legs, I’m afraid of going out past my bedtime and I’m afraid of traveling or going to unfamiliar places.

When I first heard Miley’s song, safe to say I cried my heart out. Because, even if I wasn’t the most outgoing girl or the wild child of my group of friends, I rarely said no to anything. True, I wasn’t the biggest clubber, but a good movie at the cinema, a long walk after a day of studying, a day or two or three at a music festival, a concert, a city break or a night spent in the airport only to save some cash, for that, I was game.

In high school I was begging my parents to let me stay out more and more each time, darkness and nigh used to fascinate me. I remember a school trip from primary school when, because of a car accident on the route coming back home, our bus was stuck in traffic for a couple of hours and when we arrived home it was dark. We felt so alive and it was such an exciting idea, to be out of the house when it was dark. Now, I try to think of reasons to come back home as quickly and as early as possible.

I used to love driving my car and never said no to facing unfamiliar grounds for the thrill of the trip. I used to be brave and I used to trust my body. It never failed me: at the gym, on my walks, dancing, jumping, running, driving, my body did it all. True, I wasn’t the most athletic or the fittest, but I was active. Fuck, I miss that.

Funnily enough, now I’m reading a book about matter’s wisdom and how cells are so incredibly smart, given the right environment. Most days, I believe it and can feel it for myself. But, damn, those days when I’m not feeling it, those days make me kneel and cry for help and beg for a miracle.

Maybe a contributing factor is my new job. Even though I quite enjoy it, I’m learning a lot and feel that I can be very good at it, given time and practice, remote working is a little bit alienating. I talk with my coworkers on audio calls and we see each other at the weekly Friday meeting. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to work in comfy clothes and never have to worry that you won’t be home when a courier brings a package, but some days I miss real life interaction with people, not just through a screen. I now understand how easy it is to transform yourself in the main character from The Whale. Having everything delivered to your door, working on your laptop and basically never having to leave the perimeter of your house, the danger of becoming alienated is very close and present.

Now, for the much required dose of optimism, let’s talk about another movie, a movie that impacted me more joyfully than The Whale. The scenario is written by Diablo Cody and the main character is played by Charlize Theron. Tully depicts the story of a woman, wife and mother of two, waiting for the third child, who is a little bit overwhelmed by day to day life. After giving birth, she decides to hire a night nanny, a woman paid to look over the baby during the night and only disrupt the mother’s sleep if and when the baby is hungry.

We then see how Marlo, Charlize Theron’s character, bonds with this cool, young and hip nanny and how she reminisces her youth and her freedom. We see how helpful the nanny is: she bakes muffins, cleans the house, packs the children’s lunches for school, takes Marlo to New York for a couple of drinks and a walk down memory lane.

Then, at the end of the movie, when Marlo gets into a car accident while driving back home, we discover the truth: Tully, the so called night nanny, was just Marlo’s imagination running wild. When her husband is asked at the hospital what is Marlo’s maiden name and he says Tully, it all makes sense: Marlo’s younger version came to the rescue. Marlo baked the muffins, she made roast chicken, she packed the lunches and she cleaned the house, all while waking up several times a night to nurse the baby.

So, my wish and my hope and my prayers are that, somewhere deep inside, my cells remember how they used to be young and adventurous and confident. I picture young Maria coming in and taking me out: for a stroll, for a coffee, for a drink, for a drive or for a city break. I hope that the Maria who went solo to Berlin and Amsterdam and Pau just to see the Pyrénées, the Maria who walked twenty thousand steps a day, the Maria who drove with such confidence, danced with such goofiness and hiked with such eager is there, just waiting to help.

Now, I know, the ball is in my court. It’s fine to cry from time to time, it’s fine to be vulnerable and state your fears, but once you’ve done it, be done with it. Because a life lived in fear is no life at all. So what? I’ve fallen before and then I’ve gotten up, I’ve cried before and then I’ve laughed, I’ve died before and then I’ve kept on living, I’ve felt old and then remembered I still am young.