Saturday 17 May 2008

Morgana´s Last Few Hours in London.


The last few hours was a true test. Everything was packed, my flight was in a few hours and in 48 hours I was going to celebrate my birthday in a place where I´ve always felt my home.

I barely slept the last 3 and a half hours. Suddenly the bed I´d slept in, over the last 5 years in the home where I lived with my family for almost 22, was less than comfortable. I spent the last few hours there thinking. Thinking of what the next few hours was going to hold for me. It was full of excitement but at the same time fear. Fear of being stopped from embarking on this life changing experience. I thought what would happen at 4 am when I was lugging my suitcase down the stairs with the remains of my life belongings and suddenly being stopped by my father and being asked why was I still going to Spain, then quite possible using every tactic in the book to talk me into staying in London. Just as my brother tried doing hours before.


Well the last few hours was spent in a relaxed mood. I went to visit my friend Norma and had my last meal in the UK which was a traditional Fish and Chips. OK I have to admit I have better but since it was my last meal in the UK I was not going to complain. Then I went to visit my great aunt and then shopping in Camden town. I found some novelty "Jesus" T´shirts which made me giggle.
Then I went to visit my mother in hospital which poor thing was holed up there for the last 5 days. During Easter too, bless her. She knew I was going to Spain and even told me to go, but her mood changed. This was when the emotional blackmail started. Not from her because she knew that once I have some thing in my head I was not going to Change my mind. That was when my brother stepped in.

Now if you think about it, it was the biggest excuse in the book to get me to stay in London. Mum was in hospital. She was there due to an illness we thought she had at the time, but it was not life threatening. She was in good hands and if anyone was even listening to both me and the medical team it was a managable illness. But as usual, in our family, the medical stuff has to be dealt with by yours truly.

Well my brother, despite the fact that I am older than he is, was trying to act responsible. Most of the time he acts like a complete arse and then thinks he can give me orders on the grounds that he bought the house we were living in and he has a job working as an office drone. Telling me God only knows how many times that we had to stick together because we were a family. Family? since when did we become West London´s answer to "The Mitchells"? Since when did it become mandatory to drop everything just because of family. Let´s face it both side of our family are not exactly close. Everyone is out to back stab each other and now My brother was trying to use this excuse. If it were my father using emotional blackmail, he´d use the fact that me and my mother almost died twice. the first time she was miscarrying me and the second was when she was giving birth.

It wasn´t like I didn´t care about my mum. It was because I cared about her I was doing this. I had been planning this for weeks. Actually come to think of it years. I just needed to a push. I was planning an escape Wentworth Miller´s character Michael Schofield in "Prison Break" would be proud of.


Oh and then there was another excuse which was priceless "We are an Italian Family" Christ it was even worse than the first one. That might be alright for some people who don´t have a problem with their parents and their friends meddle with their affairs, but i am not a steriotype and I am not about to let people run my life. It was the same excuse my father used when I was seventeen.The truth was that I hated having to use that as an excuse of why I was still living with them.


The last 5 months before my departure became an emotional journey for me. When I left Madrid in September 2007 my heart sank, like it always did, but I had a feeling I would be back, and this time for longer. I looked back at the things I discovered and rediscovered about myself and decided that I was going to Follow my heart. My gut feeling was to plan for Madrid after everyone had gone to sleep. There was only one way I knew I could go out there in Madrid and live in peace. Not tell anyone in my family I was going out there for good. Not even my friends, only a few close ones. Once I made the mistake of confiding in someone whose parents knew mine a very long time ago. Never again.

OK here´s the deal. I have always known that I was different from everyone else. They don´t seem to understand that for me finding my path has been difficult, sometimes restricted because I have never have the freedom to express myself and past experiences have left me, well cautious. I need to do this on my own, and perhaps the circumstances have been less appealing. It took failing my second year at University and the betrayal of my boyfriend of 6 years to make me finally see that I had to open my eyes to things that were waiting for me. And there was no way I was moving back to Italy or moving in with a person who hasn´t yet clocked on that he is turning into my father.

I was getting tired of having to listen to the constant arguing in what was a melting pot in a sess pool of a town where I was day by day losing my mind. constantly being reminded that I am getting to a certain age where by now I should have settled down with a job. a family, a home. This to me is all aload of rubbish because there is no time limit on when you should settle down. It was time to go.

The whole time when I was getting out of the house, my heart was pounding. I almost hurdled down the stairs with my suitcase and at the same time imagining the newspaper headlines of the Southall Gazette "Woman Breaks Neck In Escape Attempt" I was shaking like a leaf. Luckily My father had gone to work and my brother was asleep. I had to talk out of the house with no shoes on and carry my boots in my hand. That point I didn´t care, in 6 hours I was going to be in Madrid. Nervously the driver helped me load my belongings and drove me to heathrow where I caught the bus to Gatwick.

In the 3 hours from getting on the plane and arriving to Madrid, there was a mixture of excitement and fear. I wanted to make sure I was physically there in Madrid before I could sing victory. The greatest feeling was arriving at Barajas Airport arrival´s lounge with my belongongs, being greeted by my friend Mia who was there in Madrid to support me . I knew then I was not dreaming. in 24 hours I would celebrate my 29th birthday, but that day would also be a birth of a new me.

This is my story....


This is my life
Living Madrid.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Good for you Tina!!! No one can live your life and you can't live the life that others want you to live! It's not always easy to leave, but when there's a longing in your soul to go where you know you belong; you have to follow your dreams.

I can relate very well to your experience when I first left home to travel halfway around the world when I was 19 and looking back upon my life, I have no regrets.

I wish you a marvelous life in Madrid!

Morgana said...

Thank you.