Women’s stories – Clementine

Today’s story is that of Clementine, a woman who realizes that something is missing in her golden life. For a time she feels confused, lost: she has a husband who adores her, a much-desired son and a fulfilling job. What can she miss?


Every morning leaving house before him, I would slide away from his body, letting him sleep. I was confused and sleepy in the kitchen in front of my cup of hot milk and wrote a love note saying good morning. For him. He would do the same by making me find a note in the evening. Good morning Princess. Goodnight beauty. Everyday. Years of engagement and marriage, the arrival of a child, had not in the least affected this sweet routine, the effusions, the love atmosphere and peace that hung around us. You don’t look like a married couple, many told us, but two sweethearts in love like the first day.

These sweet actions have cheered my wedding, apparently perfect and envied. Yet I felt inside me that a piece of my heart was missing. Yes, somewhere something was inexorably wavering. Sometimes I found myself in the office lost in distant thoughts, in imaginative worlds, losing all contact with real life. Something was wrong. The circle did not close perfectly on my life as a wife and mother. I had the terrible feeling of pretending, living a life that didnt belong to me. I was fumbling in an attempt to look into the immense void that had opened inside of me. What was I missing? A loving and caring husband, a desired and loved child, a satisfying and profitable job.

I had all the requisites that this society counts among those indispensable for a happy and fulfilled life. Yet they werent enough to make me feel complete. The sleepless nights began without a reason. My fear began of compromising with my increasingly frequent bad moods what I had built and wanted more than anything else in the world. That house, designed, furnished, desired, was becoming a prison in which my soul yearned to feel free and at peace.

This is how you found me when you entered in my life.

I saw you at an cocktail. You were on the sidelines with your drink in hand. You looked around bored. Instinct did it before me, before the elaboration of any rational thought, I was there next to you, talking about everything and nothing, happy to be inundated by your immense smile. I had lost track of space and time when my husband came to tell me it was time to go and asked me to introduce him to that new friend. Ginevra, nice to meet you.

That night I did nothing but think of you. I wanted to see you again. I just needed to see you again. In the morning I drank my coffee quickly and sneaked out of the house with one goal. Find yourself. In our conversation you told me to work in a real estate agency across town. I called the office saying I wasn’t going to work that day and came to see you. What madness!

A woman had changed my life. My belly was in turmoil, every fiber of my body trembled, when, standing in front of the agency’s window, I was trying to find the courage to come in and ask you if you wanted to have lunch with me. But the footsteps went by themselves towards your desk, without my being able in any way to hinder their determined and firm progress. I was passing by, shall we eat together? Yes, gladly … Then my heart was not wrong when it was deluded that for you too that meeting had been something strong and overwhelming. I went crazy with joy.

How to tell the happiness of that and subsequent lunches. Oh how many! Dinners at her house, chats on the sofa, walks looking at each others in the eyes. Ginevra and me.

When I was away from her the thought of those lips weakened me, I could not work, concentrate, think. Suddenly I no longer felt that emptiness that was drying me up. Ginevra had filled every gap in my soul.

Thus began my life in the middle, split in two realities. During the day still wife and mother, in the evening often a clandestine lover. I fulfilled my duties as a married woman: shopping, preparing lunches and dinners, the child from school, the swimming pool.

But a fire was growing inside me that made me feel alive and happy, making every molecule in my body vibrate. How many lies and how many excuses to cover that fire. I escaped more and more often from the hands of my husband who sought me out at night, in the dark.

I had to go away. I could not bear this life any longer. I was tired of too many lies, of the falsehood that I was surrounding my life with. And then I wanted to be with her, wake up and fall asleep in her arms. Everyday. So, on a June evening, the windows open on the incipient heat, I sat next to him and told him that I was not in love him anymore, to have great and new feelings for another person. I omitted that it was a woman. I didn’t want to upset him any more than he already was. But it wasn’t long before the truth broke out.

My husband did not accept that truth too harsh for his pride as a wounded male: his wife was leaving home for another woman. And then my son. In the midst of daily fights he was contended among the reasons of a father who camped dangerous consequences of my bad behaviour on his psyche.

Lawyers, psychologists, judges, friends no longer friends, poisoned my daily routine.

My battle still continues today. A relentless struggle to claim the legitimacy of our love. To try not to get overwhelmed by feelings of guilt for having lost everyday life with my son. No more kisses in the morning and cuddles in the evening, but only aseptic meetings for a few hours in anonymous places that take my breath away and the words to tell him how much I love him and how much I miss him. Short phone calls. How did school go? While a “as usual mom” closes the door to our brief conversation.

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night in an indescribable anguish. Thoughts that create inner troubles, bizarre nocturnal awakenings and strange dreams. But above all an idea that terrorizes me: that she is no longer next to me and that my bed suddenly becomes cold and empty.

I think and think again: is it really that important to understand what we are, in love? Because love changes us, devastates us, makes us evolve, we lose ourselves, our boundaries as man and woman, our sex, and we become something else. I can’t find the answers I’m looking for.

I just know that today I am no longer the woman I used to be, writing good morning notes to her husband in an “almost perfect” life. I bet all my chips on this number, for me a winner in the roulette of life.

original story from: http://blog.pianetadonna.it/lestoriediagatha/clementine/


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