Life from my point of view
By Correspondent Serena Grilletti in Putignano, Italy
–My name is Serena Grilletti and I was born in a little town called Putignano in the south of Italy. I was born the 6th of September 1994 and my name, in italian, is an adjective meaning “serene”. In my 18, almost 19 years of life, I learned a lot of things about life, people and our destiny, but the most of times I still feel like a little girl, the one who thought life was simple. I can posit that my name has characterized me for about a half part of my life, but then, it seems like I’ve wanted to refuse it and throw it away, as if I don’t feel it as mine, as if it doesn’t belong to me at all. I’m not Serena, I’m not serene; I’m actually diagnosed as “anxious depressed” and “bulimic”. My family seems to be pretty cool, my mother is a swimming teacher, my father’s a psychologist (which is kinda ironic) and my sister is a student, studying Japanese and Korean in the university of Venice. I still don’t know how and why I call it a “family”, since my parents aren’t together anymore and me and my sister are forced to bear their arguments and discussions the most of the time. My family is rotten, at the core, and everyone pretends to not see it, that everything is normal. They keep telling me that people argue all the time, but I don’t really care what other people do, I wished something different, I would have chosen something different…
Seriously, we don’t decide to live but,since we must, we cannot even choose how to do it. That’s such a cruelty. Can I blame myself, for not having had a good example in my life, can I blame my parents, for not having known they weren’t able to grow two children? But most of all, is it necessary to blame someone?
You can tell me that problems grow on their own, that they come from the entire society, but I’ll always think that everything you have, everything you think, everything you learn, everything about you comes from the family which grew you up.
I can barely remember my childhood, and thinking about it, it doesn’t feel like I actually lived it, but I can see it in my mind from the exterior, I can see the little me, in a confused mist of pale pastel pink. Then some exact memories suddenly pop out, and some phrases can be heard in the background.
I’ve been told that one of the most important things about depression is this kind of change in the conception of time; past and future don’t exist and aren’t even contemplated by me, I can only think about present, of what I’m going to do now, of what people think about me now. I already forgot yesterday, and I don’t really care about tomorrow. But today actually hurts to be alive.
It isn’t so negative as it seems, in fact the good thing is that I try to find my “today happiness” and it’s enough to me.
I don’t think that the supreme concept of happiness exists, as that of sadness; Life is made up of moments, some of them are happy, some others aren’t.
But nothing is objective.
In spite of my resigned way of being and my powerlessness, I’m a funny person, I’m a loyal person, I’m terribly generous and I do my best not to show my weaknesses to people; that’s not because I’m afraid to get hurt (nothing can actually hurt me anymore), but because I don’t want people to feel guilty in some way and I don’t want to throw my problems on them like if they could be useful.
I hate being the victim, I’d rather listen to other else’s problems.
Even knowing all my good qualities, I prefer to keep distant from people, because I don’t want them to suffer because of me.
I’ve had some friends, but some when I wasn’t “sick” yet and some others lasted less than a year.
I recognize to be an predictable person, I can love you today but I can hate you tomorrow, just because in reality I hate myself.
As I rejected my name, I threw away my health and my body; I was a little chubby girl with a golden pink skin who stopped sunbathing and became of an unhealthy pale yellow skin colour and started starving and barfing to lose weight.
I wonder if we’re supposed to be who we actually are or who we like; and consequently I wonder if thin and pale is what I actually like or what I’m supposed to.
I should’ve been diagnosed with “confusion” instead.
This confusion slowly started spreading in every path of my life, even in the sexual one.
I’ve been in love with a girl, I’ve had a sexual and emotional relationship with her and it looked normal to me until I confessed it to my older sister; she told me it’s wrong, she told me it’s dirty, she told me it’s not what a girl is supposed to do, she told me I couldn’t be her sister anymore.
So I decided to break up with this girl, who’s still heartbroken.
Maybe I’m too tolerant, maybe I’m too compliant to “different” people. Or maybe I’m just a great fan of heart’s power and of spontaneity.
I wasn’t and I think I’ll never be able to follow my feelings, but you have to do it, it’s what we are all born to, and who can’t do that is just sick, as I am.
My name's Serena Grilletti and I'm from Bari, Apulia, in the southern Italy. I was born the 6th of September 1994 and I'm 18 years old. My family is made up of 4 people, my father, my mother, my sister and I. I'm diplomated in languages and I know Italian, English, French and German.