António enters abruptly and nervously into the cloudy morning, his eyes broken and his skin emaciated. He’s focused on the screen, his head distant and empty. Work does not fill the void of his mother’s departure, a little over 3 months ago. Around him the demands remain the same, fierce and merciless. Many contained tears and sorrows without time or place to dissolve because there are objectives, deadlines to meet, obligations that seem imminent. Gone are the days of pats on the back, feelings and condolences, the 5 days of leave where one hopes the pain will heal, a little hand to reflect on the loss, one of the hardest things life has to offer . Returning as if nothing had happened, jumping on the moving train, which neither brakes nor derails. If you want to cry, do it at home, because work is not about committing misfortunes.
On the horizon, the sea is very blue and crystalline, but an infinite number of questions debate Júlia. Just a month ago, she was confined to her tiny downtown apartment with an exotic tricolor Persian at her feet, in a frantic attempt to empty her endless email inbox and be at least halfway decent on video calls. . Now, here we have the braguesa, trying to contain in her chest the peace that surrounds her and the impressive landscape of Samiu in her retina. At the end of each seven-year cycle, the ancient Hebrews stopped working in the fields, paid no taxes, and did not collect debts. She has so much meaning and feeling, something she couldn’t handle. When she said she was going to stop, take a year off and travel around Asia, alarm bells rang around the world, her parents looked at him with disappointment, her friends peppered him with advice and suspicions. The multinational for which she works has shown signs of acceptance, but deep down she suspects that upon her return, if there is one, the consequences will be reflected in the productivity graphs. She alone wanted to emerge, to free herself from the weights that were taking her to the bottom, to the deep darkness of a exhaustion. A career on the rise, credit on the rise, disastrous and suffocating relationships, the perfect smiles on social networks.
Stop is increasingly a verb without future tense, it is in the imperative mood. Conjugated irregularly, in sobs and restlessness. To stop is to confess our weaknesses, to stop being modern and cosmopolitan and to assume that we are hermits, antisocial hillbillies or, worse still, useless. The decision to live slowly, to respect the cure, if necessary to recover our soul, is a luxury that not even money can achieve. You have to continue, you have to be, you have to do, you have to be, you have nothing and you are empty. Having time to appreciate the seasons even if they are accelerated and changed. Browsing the calendar at the rhythm of your heart is not a consensual choice. If in doubt, notice that artificial intelligence does not cry, it does not complain and it does not give up, but it also does not love, it does not hug and it does not smile. You are not a machine, an algorithm, nor a robot. If you need a break for the next episode, a break in your fight, take heart, because stopping isn’t dying, it’s just taking a deep breath.
Mental is a section of the Observer dedicated exclusively to topics related to Mental Health. It is the result of a collaboration with the Portuguese-American Foundation for Development (FLAD) and the Hospital da Luz and has the collaboration of the Faculty of Psychiatry of the Order of Physicians and the Order of Portuguese Psychologists. It is completely independent editorial content.
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Source: Observadora
