Cherry blossoms after the storm

I can’t think. I can’t let myself think. If I do, if I let any thought leak out into my head from the sealed little box where I keep them, I will crumble. I feel my body pulsate with pain as I repeat these words to myself, tapping my chest rhythmically with a tear trickling from my eye. 

This has been my reality for quite some time now and to be honest, I can’t remember a mythical time when I felt okay. From today it will arguably be worse though. 

I am losing my job. 

I woke up from yet another night of troubled insomnia with butterflies in my stomach, for yet another dreaded meeting with Human Resources. It was supposed to be a checkup on me and health, but they also kindly informed me that I am now in the process of losing my job. Not quickly or brutally, but slowly, and wearing me down. Every other week, my employer has been making me discuss whether I am okay enough yet or if they should consider dismissing me. Okay enough. the thought of the place is enough to make my stomach churn. The memory of the words that have been said to me, the looks on colleagues’ faces, makes me want to die. I don’t even know how to be okay if I try. I don’t know how to be okay the same way I don’t know how to be Polish, or Brazilian, or a child or dead. It is just a foreign state to me.

I already tried going back to work once, they promised me it would be better, but it wasn’t, it really wasn’t. When you breakdown once you find some people, not that many mind you, who want to help and support you, they let you know they are there for you, and offer all sorts of support and advice.

When you break down the second time because essentially nothing has changed in your life, the same reasons that made you break down the first time are still very much alive and well and if anything, time has made you feel worse for it, people aren’t as patient. In fact I observed a direct correlation between the more a person admits they feel unwell and broken, the less patient people are with them. You are only brave the first time. You are not as worthy of help and support the second time as this proves you are just a waste of people’s good time and effort, being so irreparably broken. I really hope this just applies to me, or the world would be too cruel.

And now I am officially starting to leave the very respectable and valid world of responsible adults, for the hell of stigma and illness and not being a valid active member of society. How did I do that? Not by choice. I’ve never been a valid well adult, I’ve never had the support to become one. Or maybe I would never had become one anyway, who knows. The thought of my upcoming transition fills me with another wave of pain, nausea and self hate.

I realise I have been sat in my bed quite still, unable to move except for the chest tapping, for a couple of hours now. I have even let tears run and dry on my face and clothes. My face is crusty with salt and my top is wet.To be honest, this isn’t unusual for me but I’m sick of it. If I am to be alive on this earth, I can’t accept things that cause me this much pain. I can’t.

I get a backpack, trembling. I can’t think, I can’t. I put some clothes in the bag. I’m not sure if they are all clean, but I like them the most. My favourite mint green hoodie, some large soft t-shirts, my comfortable underwear. I have about half the bag free still. I put in the books I had been looking at, my laptop, some pens and notebooks, some toiletries. My wallet, important documents. Maybe I’ll go somewhere for a few days. Just a few days to calm my head. I get on a bus. There’s only one bus that comes to where I live so I don’t have to think much. I lock up my front door. That’s it for now, goodbye to this town for a few days, it was either you or me.

***

I wake up slowly, in a slight state of confusion. I am being pleasantly lulled by the airplane. Half asleep, I see the clouds out the small round window. They are majestically fluffy, on a spectrum of apricot to coral pink and butter yellow. The sight makes me smile as I drift back to sleep, trying not to lean too much onto my neighbour. 

I dream of a night sky, infinite, full of bright stars. I am on a cloud, or more accurately sort of inside the cloud, like a sleeping bag. The breeze on my face is fresh but the rest of my body is warm, inside the cloud. I gently sway in the sky, carried by the night winds. Deep, down below, about equally as far from me and my vehicle, are city lights. I lean a little, so I can look down from my cloud and I can see them all. They are bright, some scintillating, others streaming fast, they are gold, emerald, ruby, sapphire. It feels both immensely comforting and very vulnerable, I am at the mercy of the cloud’s stability and good will. 

I wake up feeling enchanted. When I was a child, I used to imagine that scenario of sleeping in a cloud in the sky to help me fall asleep. It is the first time I dream of it. It feels like getting a visit from a long lost beloved friend. 

***

We land in a very busy airport. 

I am feeling groggy and the daylight through the windows is a little painful. I put on my backpack, I swear it feels heavier than it did last night. I walk through the long white winding corridors of the airport, get confused and look at a couple maps and finally I get on a red train headed for the city centre. Deep in my seat, facing the window, chin in hand, I observe the changing cityscape. It is early in the morning and there seems to be a light spring shower. People are out, starting their day, serious and giddy, in their suits and school uniforms. paradoxically, it feels peaceful and organised, for such a big city. I still don’t think, I merely observe, and it feels good.

The buildings get taller and the streets more densely packed as we get closer to the centre. I think I am getting excited.

The train drops me off in a station so busy, like nothing I’ve ever seen in my life. I go to the first nice looking cafe I find, order a coffee and some food. I am lucky the staff speak some English as this compensates for my weak attempt at their language. I sit down and think about starting my phone, and after hesitating for some seconds, decided not to. As I am in my thoughts, I realise all the voices around me speaking a language I don’t really understand and this makes me feel , oddly enough, safe, able to process things in my own time. It dawned on me suddenly how insane what I did is, this makes me chuckle to myself. Last night, I went to the airport with the clothes on my back and my little backpack and I bought myself tickets to Tokyo and back for a week. I normally would never have done this, even though it has been a lifelong dream, because I could never justify the costs. But I had been living such a small life, the last half year, I actually found I could afford it even if it means I don’t have much savings left, but I’ll be okay. I hope. In the airport after buying my tickets, I quickly researched where I could stay for a few nights and booked myself a shared room in a guest house. Will it be nice? I have no clue, but I will find out soon as I am due to check-in in a few hours. It made me realise how a dopamine rush can help you make decisions. You would normally need months and extensive research to make. It is probably too easy to overthink certain things. The rain has stopped an the sun is coming out.

***

I get off a bus. I realise it is the third mode of transportation I have used today, so far and that the intercultural communication is getting less daunting. After walking down a few quiet suburban streets, I find my guest house. There is a very cute calico cat, rolling in the dusty road, taking in all the sunlight. I squat next to it and try to make friends. It looks up at me with Amber eyes and I give it a little stroke. It does not seem too impressed. A middle-aged lady comes out and gestures to me. She calls my name and ushers me into the house. 

Sorry about the cat, she says. It’s always outside playing where it shouldn’t be. I hope it was nice to you.

Yes, I think I have made a friend, I laugh. 

She walked me to my room, and warned me that I do have a roommate, but she is currently away for a few days and I have the room to myself for now. She leaves me to unpack and freshen up and tells me I am free to have dinner with the other guests in the evening, explains a few House Rules, and lets me know of some local places I can visit.

I’m alone again. But it feels so different this time, than it did just this time yesterday. I am literally thousands of miles away, on the other side of the world, I couldn’t be further away than where I was yesterday if I tried. I decide to look at the leaflets and guides the lady gave me. I’m so excited I literally don’t know where to start. I get changed and shower with some music in the background. I decide to go to the local convenience shop to buy some snacks as I haven’t eaten much. I go back out into the spring, sunny weather. My cat friend has gone. As I open the shop door, staff greet me, and there is a little musical ring. Everything here is so cute and nice.It sounds very cheesy but it’s true. I hear the two cashiers speak together in Japanese and I try to listen. I am happy as I realise I can actually understand bits of their conversation. I buy some colourful sweets, some mochi, some fried chicken and handfuls of things, which I have no idea as to what they are. When it comes to paying, I try my very best with the little bit of Japanese I know which makes the staff smile, I’m not sure if they’re amused or if they just don’t understand what I’m saying. It makes me blush. I pay and I leave.

Next to the guest house there’s a small park with some trees and some benches. I sit down and eat my snacks with my little cat friend next to me. I realise I am a little down and overwhelmed actually, I felt embarrassed about making the shop staff laugh. I probably ought to go back to my room and learn more Japanese so that I can communicate with staff and people better. I should have realised this would have been an issue. Obviously my plan had absolutely not been thought through. The breeze is really nice though, the smell of the air is different. I like it. I like that everything is different. It makes me feel like a different person, one that nobody knows. I go back to my room and study all afternoon.

In the evening, I go to the dining room and to my surprise and horror, the two cashiers from the corner shop here. They are not in uniform, they are eating. I realise they also happen to be staying here, in the guest house. The landlady introduces us. They laugh and smile remembering me from earlier, they say my accent is cute. I blush I feel so stupid. I have not really been social in the last few months, and I feel very sensitive around these new people. They tell me their names. They are both university students from different cities in Japan, one of them, a boy, studies, English and hopes to be a translator. The other one, a girl, is studying to be a school teacher.

I swiftly go back to my room as I feel pressure to study more. The following day I do the same thing, except I do not go to the shop. In the evening I feel tired and silly. I will never learn enough Japanese in a few days. I decide to go and visit a museum the following morning and try to relax.

The following evening at dinner, the landlady and the other guests, including the boy and the girl from yesterday talk about their days. When it comes to my turn to describe what I’ve done. Blushing, in my best Japanese, I explain that I have visited a museum and seen many interesting artefacts, that I have visited a few shops and bought souvenirs, I have walked through a park, and looked at many things and I regretted not doing that from the first day that I got here.

Wow, you have had a very eventful day. The boy answers me in slightly broken English.

We all laugh. 

After dinner, I go to the park again to enjoy the cool evening air with its distant city sounds. I greet my cat friend and try to decide what to do the next day. I hear someone approaching and I turn around. It is the boy from the shop, the English student.

Is it okay if I sit with you? He asks

Yes of course, and I smile at him.

He asks me what brought me to Japan. I hesitate a minute but his face is so encouraging. I explain everything to him. It takes a good half hour and frankly, I am surprised that he is so patient and that he understands everything I am saying. Maybe he doesn’t, but he smiles at me and then looks away and says,

well, I’m very glad I have met you.

When I get back to my room, I feel emotional, tears well up in my eyes. It feels good to be seen.

The following day, the boy, the girl and the landlady invite me to a picnic in the park. Today, quite suddenly, the cherry blossoms are in full bloom. Pink, everywhere. It is like all the trees have exploded overnight, and made everything beautiful and happy. The petals float around in the air, falling on our head and shoulders like confetti whilst we drink and laugh.