Translator: Irina Sinenkaya Reviewer: Oksana Borisova
When I was little, I would often tell stories
about my incredible adventures, as if it were the truth.
When kids in school would tell about their summer at grandma’s,
I would tell that I had traveled to Paris.
And I had never been to Paris.
But I thought it was a better fit for my inner romantic hero.
Then I grew up, and life happened.
And it turned out much more interesting than anything I could’ve imagined myself.
If before I had to come up with places I had been to,
with things that had happened to me,
in real life I flew to other countries to visit complete strangers,
dyed my hair in all the colours of the hairdresser’s catalogue,
swam with dolphins, ran after planes,
threw away jobs, husbands and pebbles into the ocean.
I see those things as far from fearless.
For me, fearlessness is but a capacity
to take control over your life and do what you want.
When my friends played with dolls
and imagined how they would have big houses full of chickens,
and what great mothers they would make,
I wanted to cuddle with two boys at once,
to live alone and to be the smartest.
I guess that’s why I went to study a male-dominated course,
was the smartest there and became a certified forewoman.
I was still studying in my hometown,
which you don’t leave, because life is just too good there.
The sea is warm, the sun always shines, the tomatoes are delicious …
But for me it was a town where I only had two places of work,
where you had to arrive early and stay until you retire.
And this was not what I wanted for myself.
I wanted to listen to my favorite band like it was the soundtrack to my life.
I wanted to admire stucco whenever I wanted.
I wanted to wear heels and talk about art.
And now I live in Saint-Petersburg,
where people have stucco in the kitchen,
and I talk about art professionally.
This transition from construction sites to art coincided with my first divorce.
I already lived here and I was 20 years old.
I decided that I was a grown woman
and it was time to marry.
I married the first comer.
After half a year, I realised that it did not look like my life plan.
Everything that was happening to me then did not look like my life plan.
My mom said it well about plans once.
I asked her:
“Did you always want kids?”
Because I really did not feel like it.
And she said: “You know,
I had different plans for life,
but then I met your dad
and decided not to lose him.
I fell in love with you while I was pregnant.”
And in that moment, I saw her in a different light.
I saw her as an 18-year-old girl who gave up everything she dreamed of,
in order to build a new happiness, this time with me.
It didn’t matter, all she had to endure, wearing the same jacket for 10 years,
going to university around my age.
I was 21 when I got a divorce.
I started working in design, built a career,
and dedicated the last 10 years of my life to being happy.
I organised everything for myself.
A year ago, I got married again -
this time to a man I don’t want to lose.
With him I was able to keep everything.
Everything that was dear to me, and I received even more.
I cried about it recently.
Well, officially, I was crying because now I have this tracksuit,
and when I wear it in public - “How can you?”
But really, it was because of the following.
I went to the bathroom to wash my face,
got out,
and he had brought me a crown.
This one.
He put it on my head
and said:
“You can do whatever you want.
You’re a princess.”
And as I stood there, tears running down my cheeks,
wearing a tracksuit and a crown;
I understood that happiness is already here.
And that I don’t need to run anymore.
And now,
I take my big leap into fearlessness.
I am learning not to beat myself up, not to constantly rush forward.
To just be, here and now.
And I understand that I don’t need to walk into fearlessness -
I am already knee-deep in it.