All Those Damn Doors
Life often feels like a series of doors that become firmly shut behind you as you go forward to open new ones.
After work, I walked outside the flat to go to the grocery store and buy flat peaches. In the middle of walking back home, a heavy bag in tow, I paused and thought, “What is it that I want?” And by that question, I don’t mean want in the sense that I’ve been craving flat peaches (very delicious, highly recommended), but what else is it that I long out of life?
You probably aren’t the type who experiences existential crises in the middle of grocery runs, which is good for you – congratulations. Sometimes, it frustrates me how my racing thoughts involve many of these questions. Earlier, I was watching a TikTok video where the guy was talking about the spotlight effect, which can be debilitating for anxious people like me. The guy advised his watchers to get over it, as it’s pointless to obsess about what other people think because, in the end, we’ll all die. What’s the sense of it all? It’s a bit nihilistic but liberating when you think about it.
Anyway, I try to imagine my life from an outsider’s point of view sometimes, like me as a younger person looking at someone else. I would’ve envied the older me’s life: married, having a challenging but satisfying job, living in a fifteen-minute city in the south of France, getting to travel to different countries, and eating flat peaches. Sounds like a dream.
When I began traveling outside the Philippines, I would always get melancholic every time the trip was about to end. The younger me had always said I could never picture myself living outside the country, but a part of me also wondered what an adventure it could be.
I saw “Past Lives” a few days ago, and I thought about how the main character, Nora, felt torn apart by the life she had left in South Korea and the life she was living in New York. I won’t give out any spoilers, but the most significant conflict in the film was a ghost from her past that had resurfaced, and she was torn between her old (and by then a romanticized) life and the life she was currently living.
I’m not exactly feeling nostalgic about my life in Manila (the traffic has scarred me for life), but several what-ifs cross my mind now and then. I’ve had a lot of time to think about those alternative possibilities. A few years ago, my good friend Gretchen was in a serious long-distance relationship with a German guy, and we were talking about her seriously considering moving. While I was happy when she shared her plans, I felt a tinge of sadness thinking about how she was leaving for good. Her plan didn’t work out (they broke up, the guy became an asshole), but one alternative future was I could have been the one who stayed in the Philippines. Maybe my career would’ve taken a different path as well. Perhaps I would still live in my flat in Salcedo Village, buying my daily iced long black at Habitual Coffee. Would I have been single? It would’nt have been so bad. My social life would’ve been thriving.
Here in Montpellier, it’s been harder to make friends. Most of my work is online, so I don’t get to meet my colleagues face-to-face (plus they all live in other countries, anyway), and the language barrier is the biggest hurdle. I have always been a bit of an introvert, too, and I’m not the type to typically walk up to a stranger and strike up a conversation. Sometimes, it frustrates me, but I think I am frustrated because I had several friends I left behind.
Life often feels like a series of doors that become firmly shut behind you as you go forward to open new ones. When you were younger, the terror came from seeing all those doors that were in front of you, waiting to be opened. The older you get, the more you can’t help but think about all those damn doors you’ve shut.