The tide must turn one day

Have not kept you posted in the topic of tidings from the remont front. The builders who had promised to set off on 1 October, then on 8 October so when for the third time they explained themselves they were stricken by some setbacks with their previous commitments, my father made a few calls to his friends and found another crew, but they will (hopefully) kick off on 5 November and have estimated all works would last until Christmas. I consider this a miracle since on Friday I read in one of reputable dailies the best crew have backlogs for two years!

The fact the remont has gotten behind schedule should not take me aback, just like being double-crossed by the builders, an experience nearly everyone is familiar with. I have even learnt to live with frustration that so little is going on in my dwelling. My father has nearly finished (taking a break for the grandpa’s funeral period) the rewiring; electricity wires had been in such mess that according to dad it was a miracle a fire had not broken out in the flat; with the seller being accountable for the mess, as the wiring had been totally inconsistent with original documentation of the flat (glad to have hit it off with the property administrator).

Negativity has taken over me in recent days (or weeks). Whatever I get down to, whatever I handle, my head is full of scenarios of what can go wrong. Remont, especially if you do not decide to hire somebody to look after it and take that burden off your back and come up with solutions if things tangle up, is an endless streak of nuisances, a steep ascent uphill, a struggle against unreliable people. To finish this paragraph with a glimmer of hope, there were a few incidences when things went smoothly, to my surprise.

At work it is uphill as well, things to complain about are same as ever: excessive workload, poor organisation and unreliable workmates. Two last months of the year loom particularly ominous, as the imminent handover of client coverage and the merger will increase the work beyond the point in which one can control the whole mass of tasks to be duly done. Relief is said to be brought in 2019 and the prospect of better days is realistic.

Memories of the relationship terminated more than three months ago (in the flat-related haste I still have not fully got over it, rather I have drowned out the waterfall of thoughts in mind head) and family affairs, including the recent departure of my grandpa (which lasted a few days, since his body was emaciated, yet his heart remained strong for long) also do not help me reach the peace of mind.

I long for a blissful feeling of being carefree, a state I last experienced during the holidays in late May. Five months of being restless and restlessness are being transmitted to my body, causing continuous muscle tension, headaches, sleeplessness or constant drowsiness.

I have learnt to cope well with work-related stress. I have picked up a wonderful ability to cut off all affairs after crossing the doorstep of my office. Yet far more challenges need to be tackled outside office (where I spend around 50 hours per week, or 55 hours, if commutes are counted in) and time to handle them is not infinite. If I choose not to let up and deal with all the stuff I need to, little time I left for relax. This month I went out with friends to town twice (counting out two lunches out of office), took a 30-kilometre bike ride two weeks ago, went to the swimming pool five of six times and went to the cinema once. The rest of my time was dedicated to duties.

On top I need to get the grips with the feeling of being unfairly hurt by evil people and evil world which is not shaped the way I would want it to be. This feeling is not entirely new to me, yet the intensity with which it is hitting me and the extent to it is distorting my perception of what goes on around are disproportionate. These days I actually don’t feel like talking to anyone nor meeting anyone, I feel like clamming up and waiting out this sombre phase.

The imbalance in life must be a temporary state. I find consolation in prospects of a better tomorrow. One day the flat is refurbished and furnished, one day workload is within my capabilities, one day I wake up and have the comfort of having only to catch up with all things I lack time to do now, all pleasurable. I foresee that moment comes in four months. By then I have no choice but to grit my teeth and not give up.

Grandpa

My paternal grandfather was born on 17 May 1926 in Skolimów (currently Konstancin-Jeziorna), where he spent most of his childhood. Shortly before WW2 his family moved to Warsaw. Unlike his two older brothers who died in the uprising, along with his sister (died in December 2017) and brother (died in December 2010) fled Warsaw in 1943 to the rural area where he had been born.

Shortly after the war he met my grandma; they got married in October 1948. He worked in the paper factory in Jeziorna for nearly his entire adult life. In his free time he bred pigeons and was a football fan of Legia Warszawa.

After the departure of my grandma he found it hard to shake off, yet remained in relatively good (as for his age) mental and physical health until early 2018. Since early August he was bedridden, ate and drunk very little.

Grandpa passed away last night, aged 92. He was my longest-living ancestor and the last grandparent alive. Hopefully at least he suffers no more.

5 May 2017 – 18 July 2018

It’s over.

There’s no way back.

Members of former band ABBA interviewed about the lyrics of “The winner takes it all” said no one had been a winner in the divorce of Agnetha Faltskog and Bjorn Ulvaeus. They both had lost, along with their children.

For the posterity, my girlfriend and I split up four days ago. The last weeks had been an enormous struggle and though we both had tried hard, the what had torn us was far bigger that what we had had in common.

Actually the end could have been seen from the beginning as moments in which I had felt truly secure and comfortably in that relationship (with hindsight, if such foundation was a missing piece, it was bound to fall apart) were scarce. The relationship which was tainted in doubts, in which I considered breaking up several times, in which uncertainty was unrelenting.

Half a year ago, after actually the best period in our relationship which oddly enough coincided with the most acute phase of my depression episode, we decided to rent a flat together. Living under one roof has helped us get to know each other better, but also found ourselves tackling the daily grind we both thought we would share by the end of our days.

We had ups and downs, the latter being more frequent, but it all went downhill after our holidays in late May. In early July we nearly broke up but decided to have a long and sincere talk and gave ourselves one last chance. We tried hard and appreciated each other’s efforts, yet that struggle gave little comfort to both of us. Our “recovery plan” could have come in useful for a falling apart marriage, where children and other stuff would be valid points to stay together, but not for two people who have been together for just more than a year.

Burdened by downsides outshining upsides, ever-increasing doubts, uncertainty and discomfort, I resolved to let us both have a chance to find life companions having makings for a perfect match. Time has proven this was a grossly imperfect match.

Needless to say, breaking up has not restored any sense of comfort, certainty, I actually feel even more insecure, not like somebody who has broken free of what has brought them more sorrow than joy. Memories remain...

Enough musings for now. My moods since Wednesday evening have swung from moderate despair to relief and they will continue to do so for a week. Unfortunately, we still live in one flat, though I am intent on finding a flat to rent quickly and move out the next weekend. Yesterday I visited one, yet the impression (dirt in the kitchen, smells of 1980s inside) was awful. Lookout has to go on. In the meantime, I am heading for Wrocław in business, so evenings spent in the city I’m love with should heal my soul a bit.

Once I read if you decide to break up you exchange mediocre today for even worse tomorrow to avoid awful years ahead.

A heartfelt thank you to my dearest friends: Ola, Martyna and Marcin for keeping me company (for long phone calls and messenger conversation) since the first hours of the hapless moment I turned single, and to my parents who offered my support and understanding and have not attempted to assess my decision.

No man is an island

While the whole world pretends to be an endless ocean, through which humans sail, lacking direction.

First such Easter. I spent over twenty previous ones either at my grandparents’ until my grandma was fit enough to prepare Easter breakfast for around ten guests, or, then, at my aunt and uncle’s. Over the last year bonds within the family have further loosened, fuelled by argument between my father and his brother over the duty of looking after my grandpa. Without going into details, everyone spends this day at home alone; a circumstance which spares all parties stress, insincere smiling, inevitable disputes, mutual taunting and other nasty stuff. Instead I get a modest breakfast with my parents only and plenty of free time to take a precious break from work. Unfortunately, the weather is not conducive to outdoor activities which I long to enjoy; had Easter fallen two weeks ago, over+20C temperature and sunshine would have lifted my spirits in the festive season rather on an usual weekend.

This makes me ponder upon the pain threshold linked to days when families traditionally meet up. Some prefer to spend such days on their own, others strain to endure family gatherings even if they do not belong to pleasant events. The choice depends on the extent to which you feel good in your own company. For some loneliness means sadness, for others freedom. For the former being hurt by fellow men is the price to pay to avoid loneliness. If somebody asked me about my preference, I would answer I opt for loneliness. This is the theory, while actual events prove my answer could be my wish rather than preference.

Remember the story of one toxic relationship I had just given up? Do you realise how many times I was breaking it up “forever” after that post? Not that many, but the upshot is that I have gotten even more involved in it, though I seem to be keeping my distance, aware how emotionally draining it is. I have lost some self-respect for keeping this going, but I realise the dead-end delusion I am stuck in is the price to pay for having somebody who at times shows care and interest.

Oddly enough, while being stuck in the toxic mire, I have not stopped looking for opportunities to get involved in a normal relationship for a single moment. The endeavours have however, led me to the conviction that getting married and having children one day is just an option, not a certainty coming into life in unknown future. Don’t get me wrong, I am now just talking about taking things for granted, just like many happy spouses do not take for granted they will grow old with their partners just because fate brings accidents and illnesses to pull people apart. If finding self-fulfilment in being a husband and father might be out of reach for reasons beyond my control (more about in next paragraphs) then I should strive to seek other stuff (other than work-related, though job should give at least satisfaction, but being too committed to it, or even addicted is a trap) that would bring me happiness achievable on my own only. The bar is raised high, since except for my parents, I practically have no family and because my all long-lasting and newly-made friendships are with people who either have families or are in long-lasting relationships, therefore I cannot reckon on anybody to be a greater part of any plan.

Why the odds to get my life arranged happily have statistically decreased? If you were to answer the questions, most likely you would claim that…

1. With time I have grown more demanding and few women can meet my requirements. I would argue with time I have grown aware of what I definitely do not want and unlike one friend of mine thought, I do not have a picture of what the ideal girl would be like, but I know which traits I would not put up with. I want a normal girl, who would not be selfish, greedy, materialistic, insincere, not straightforward, judge book by the cover, think end justifies the means, etc. Maybe that’s still too much to ask.

2. Statistically, most women of my age are already in relationships and it is not a coincidence usually those deserving the most attention are already taken. This is called a natural selection – males are not stupid and once they have grabbed a sensible female they take the effort not to let her go. There is also the secondary market, yet as I observe the divorced women around if I were their husband, I would hurry to divorce them too ;-)

3. Opportunities to meet somebody are less frequent than before finishing studies. In fact workplace (and events associated therewith such as business travels, conferences, workshops and parties) is the main place where I meet new people and stay in their company long enough to get to know them good enough to lay foundations to build a closer relationship. Sometimes after one or two chats with a woman I realise she is worth getting to know her better, but realise the paths we tread have very little chance to cross again. The only chance to keep up getting to know each other is then simply to ask a woman out (otherwise I lose it), which means showing at least of a bit of interest in her. Many times this has turned out to be a step too far, yet worth taking, since otherwise I would have been kicking myself for wasting an opportunity.

At the certain age, as one develops habits and gets accustomed to independence offered by living on one’s own, making concessions being in a relationships involves looms as stepping out of the comfort one. Also tolerance for other people’s habits declines. Some time ago I though women reach that stage of life after they turn around 35. My observations from recent months fill me with (some degree of) confidence such perception of relationships with men develops with many girls around the age of 25 (horrifying).

The very belief there are many single women and nearly as many single men therefore they should pair up and the problem of sad singles will be gone is a fallacy, since it fails to take into account the structural mismatch between highly demanding and independent single women and single men simply afraid of them. Anyone who advises me to stop bleating and look around since there are plenty of single women in the world may read the below…

1. The stereotypical exorbitant requirements women allegedly set towards men (should be tall, handsome, well-built, well-travelled, have a good job, earn a lot, have his own flat and a car, dress stylishly, read books, be caring and resourceful and so on and so forth) are as I notice, not far cry from reality and oddly enough deter those men who meet majority of requirements, but are simply afraid women would not accept their imperfections and hold back. Frankly speaking I am also wary when I meet a woman who apparently waits for a knight on a white horse.

2. A woman who has been single for a few years is usually too habituated to freedom being single offers to her that she is unwilling to give up on it. Building a relationship is a matter of give and take, a person who wonders whether to benefits of being with somebody outweigh the costs should make a mature decision. I theoretically respect such decisions, although when some two months ago I heard from a girl with who I had broken the ice that the relationship would take away from her the freedom she cherished and actually she was not yet ready for a relationship, my instant reply was that being in a relationship does not deprive one of freedom and with each next day she would be even less ready for a relationship.

3. Coming to that point, readiness to let another person into one’s orderly little world declines with age. After years of being single, starting a relationship means a huge and abrupt exit from the comfort zone. I realise this sounds absurdly, as this is definitely not a description of the utterly pleasant state of falling in love. I would point out the fear of being pushed out of the comfort zone, the fear of losing control (falling in love is about getting carried away by emotions, isn’t it) keeps a tight rein on some single women’s emotions and does not let them reach the point when they have a crush with a man.

The theme of comfort zone brings to my mind two other observations. Firstly, I know women younger than me desperately hold on to their partners, no matter how imperfect they are and now little they care, out of pure fear of loneliness and not finding anyone better. Secondly, I heard many women aged over thirty telling me if their husbands died, they would remain widows until the end of their days, since they have grown so intolerant of men’s drawback that they would be reluctant to learn to live with someone new and all his habits and shortcomings.

If you have reached the very end, so probably think now I am totally downtrodden, grumpy and acrimonious, lacking hope and faith. Maybe, but today I am exercising my right to feel down and by sharing my sorrows with you I help them get them off my chest, I set myself free of them and distance myself from them. Besides, it saves my today’s mood for posterity, so it does what blogging is all about, just like a year ago, when a similar plea was posted in the eve of a breaking point…

Keep on hoping a for a brighter tomorrow! :-)))))

On a young man’s departure

Not the best start into 2017. On Monday I learnt from we ex-workmates from The Employer our colleague Krzysiek had passed away aged 31 on New Year’s Eve, thus eventually losing a half-year battle against cancer.

I first met Krzysiek in early 2011 when I joined The Employer as a full-time analyst. He had worked there for some three years and despite being only 25 had been promoted twice by then. As a definitely talented up-and-coming relationship manager, he was entrusted taking charge of the most promising prospective accounts.

He has not let down senior managers who had put a lot of faith and trust in his skills. In 2012 thanks to his determination, patience and negotiation skills he won the biggest deals in the history of The Employer. I was proud to participate in this success as I handled those clients on analytical coverage side. Though our styles or work differed and personally we were not on the same wavelength, we were always able to overcome different approaches to many issues and teamed up to pursue common goals. Our professional ties loosened up in late 2013 when The Employer decided to give up on the biggest accounts and part of business winding-down strategy. Since mid-2014 when I left The Employer we talked twice or maybe three times when we ran across each other in town.

Around the end of summer holidays I was told Krzysiek had been fighting brutal cancer for a few weeks and that the disease was ruthlessly spreading across his body. He went on a sick leave in September and was admitted to a hospice in November.

Farewell mass was administered on Wednesday in Warsaw and urn with Krzysiek’s ashes was buried on Thursday in his hometown. The very farewell, including priest’s sermon was touching and poignant. I counted around 300 people inside the church, including family, neighbours and friends from his hometown, schoolmates, fellow football fans, workmates and even CFOs of companies he had had relationships with.

Oddly enough, several people with whom he had worked until his last days in the office, did not turn up at the church. Sadly, no one from my team did not participate in the farewell as well, though they had worked with Krzysiek longer than me.

This sad event was a heart-rending reminder how fragile human life is. A year ago Krzysiek was a healthy young man with future wide open ahead of him. I would depart from the truth if I told Krzysiek had been my friend, he had been my workmate, yet his departure is a milestone in my life, as this is the first decease of somebody of my age I knew well. Until last days, in my narrow perception death would strike only people far older than me.

Besides my previous workplace is falling apart. The Employer, taken over by its competitor last year, is now seeing its workforce decimated. Several people with who I worked and whom I owe a lot have been laid off or are likely to be given the sack by the end of January.

But as it turns out again, every cloud has a silver lining. Had it not been for the farewell, I would not have met several people I had not seen for months. The sad gathering proved to be an occasion to renew old comradeships. Yesterday, despite the middle of the long weekend, we met up, not to foster memory of Krzysiek but to talk over what was going on in our lives.

With such starting point, I suppose things I poised to get only better.