Just for Today

Happiness is all that we take with us. This small excerpt from the song "Bem-Te-Vi," composed by my aunt Lucina, her partner Lulli, and my father, Mário Avellar, has always struck a chord with me. Happiness is all that we take from this life. Whether destiny knocks on the door or sneaks up on us, as it did to me two years ago when I received the diagnosis of an aggressive breast cancer, this phrase reminds me again that sorrows, disappointments, and angers pale in comparison to moments of pure happiness.

But this topic also makes me ponder the finitude of life. In advance, I apologize for broaching this subject again. Aging, time, death. There's actually a subject that the majority of the world's population avoids talking about at all costs, but that everyone, without exception, regardless of social class, gender, favorite team, or zodiac sign, will experience: death. The so-called "grim reaper" seems distant before turning 50. At least it was for me. As I approach the halfway mark of my existence, with less than three years to go, and after experiencing the scare of cancer, it's something I constantly grapple with.

This reminder of death has two paths. Depression, being the first. Thinking that I have less time to accomplish things I haven't even started yet. That my body seems unable to keep up with my mind anymore. And even my mind is showing signs of weariness. Depressing. The other side is precisely the happiness side. Quite ambiguous, I know. This other path is exactly the opposite of the former. This is where thoughts of still having about 50 years to build everything I haven't started yet come in. That everything I've done for my body and mind in these past 47 years is paying off since I'm aging well. That the eagerness to learn more and more keeps me alive and vibrant.

Let's do this. Following the AA principles and affirming that "just for today" I'll choose the path of happiness. Tomorrow we'll reaffirm, and so on every day, grateful for the experience gained, for the years lived, and for many more to come. Just for today, I choose happiness.

I recently discovered that I've aged

I recently discovered that I've aged. I've aged in years, that's a fact. But, for the first time, I felt that I aged biologically, even though despite having both age and health on my side, I still look in the mirror and see a 30-year-old woman.

Serge Diakonoff, 1980’s.

I realized I've aged through the eyes of others. I mean, younger others. The 18-20-year-old crowd looks at me and sees their mother, commenting on things as if I have no clue what they're talking about. And when I mention something from "my time," they don't understand. I discovered I've aged when I see actors, singers, filmmakers, writers, and artists I admire who are my age or older. I don't know much about the new ones, those 20 years old and younger. I discovered I've aged when that energy I still have, and believe me, it's a lot, seems to falter at the end of the day or when I watch TV late and doze off, even though I insist on defying the heavy sleep that arrives. The same when I discovered that I can't eat and lie down anymore without getting acid reflux. Having a little extra to drink also gives me reflux. Anything does.

I discovered I've aged after completing a year and a half of breast cancer treatment and entering menopause as a result. The oncologist said this could happen. I don't remember, or maybe I didn't want to pay attention. When I stopped bleeding in the first month, I discovered I've aged. I also discovered I've aged when faced with this terrifying disease, I felt the finiteness of life up close and with it, the non-completion of thousands of projects, thousands of ideas left unexecuted, and practical things like retirement, a secure future, who will take care of mom, will I always be in another country, not having children, how much longer do I have to work. All these "future" actions I kept pushing aside because I thought I was so far from old age. Silly. Foolish.

I discovered I've aged seeing my friends aging too, complaining about the youngsters, with nostalgia for this or that decade. I discovered I've aged, but I've only discovered, I haven't accepted it, or better yet, it hasn't sunk in yet. Whether this is good or bad, time will tell. Certainly, the lack of future planning is a mistake. But I'm learning, taking blow after blow. One good thing about discovering that I'm aging is not waiting anymore. Not waiting anymore to grow old. Discovering every day that I'm living.

Hi, I am a writer!

Hi, my name is Rita Avellar, and I am a writer. (Sigh) I have to say, this is such a short sentence but full of strong meaning for me, and extremely hard to say out loud. The reason is, when I say 'I am a writer,' imposter syndrome comes slapping me, saying, 'How come if you don't have a book published?' 'How come if you don't have a project like a film, TV series, or whatever media out there with your name on it!' Well, I've been dealing with this inner voice for a while, and I am more than ready to say, baby, that's enough!

Yes, I don't have a book published. Yet. I don't have a film or TV series with my name as the main writer on it. Yet. However, like I say every time I want to 'explain' my passion for writing and telling stories, since I learned how to write and read, I've been creating stories and sharing my thoughts.

It literally started when I was 7 years old. I wrote books and short stories - one even almost turned into an animated short film when I was about 10. I joined a writer's club in which I had the opportunity to improve my writing. Later, as a teenager, I helped write plays and wrote a couple of poems and different diaries. These ones were absolutely secret writing, but for sure helped put the words out of my chest and avoided some psychosomatic diseases, like sore throats. As an adult, the blog world caught me, and for years I had a blog in which I would share my thoughts (it was in Portuguese) about life, and I even had some fans along the way. At the same time, I also wrote for several newspapers and magazines about fashion - trends but also human behavior linked to fashion, a subject that I loved due to my major in Fashion Design. I ended up opening a content marketing agency back in 2009, in which I and my team used to - guess what? - write content for blogs and social media. This was even before Instagram existed. Like Jurassic Park of social media. During the same period, I started writing a book about the saga of a family in Rio de Janeiro and its implication with the 'jogo do bicho,' Rio's type of mafia. It was when in 2013 I went to San Diego to study Creative Writing at the UCSD summer course. My final project, a short story, was selected as one of the best ones among 20 students, and I was the only foreigner (this short story was the one I am turning into a short film). After this, the instructor invited us to be part of a club for writers in which we would meet once a week to share our writing projects. I translated to English my so-called book project and shared it with them. They loved it! Back in Brazil, I studied screenwriting for one year and entered another Universe, and I was completely hooked. This was in 2014.

First reading of my upcoming short film, The Fat Lady

Well, 10 years have passed, and the imposter syndrome was trying to attack me again. During these last 10 years, I rehashed some comebacks to writing, which I did here and there, but I sabotaged myself a lot, in partnership with this syndrome guy. Why? This is one of the main topics of my therapy sessions. It freaks me out tons of stories I wrote have appeared in books, TV series, and films. No, nobody copied me, of course. As one teacher I had during the Fashion Design college mentioned, ideas are flowing in the air, whoever has the antenna to capture them will catch them first. I had these antennas, I still have them, just need to activate them again. But more than activating them is to say it out: I am a writer, yes, I am