It’s been a while, a long while. The past couple of weeks have been, what to say, different. My grandma passed away a little over a week ago so I’ve been floating somewhere in between here and home, fully present in neither place. I’ve been combating feelings of sadness, loneliness and guilt for not being there, my thoughts being all over the place while simultaneously trying to decide whether or not to move into an apartment in Bronte, which is quite far away from where I work (so should I buy a bike or is it simply too far? What if I’ll regret it, what if it’s too far? Shit, I don’t know!).
Also, I signed up for a coaching course that focuses on creativity, meaning that I’m finally back on my personal development journey. Life of a [insert opposite of ’wannabe’] backpacker is turning into living like local, finally, and shit, this is it!
Starting something new always, always, brings back this feeling of discomfort. Insecurity, almost. Moving into an apartment means that my vision of settling down for a while is going to be fulfilled in less than one day.
Job, check. Apartment, check. Yoga studio/gym, check.
Add to that a coaching course that makes me commit to ridiculously rainy Sydney for three months, three whole months, while I might as well choose to be somewhere under the sun, well… this is it.
Leaving behind the hostel life with which I’ve had an increasingly radical love-hate relationship feels …weird? This is what I came here to do and it’s taken me almost seven months to do it. Not that it matters, but you know, life happens and you never know where it’ll take you.
After six months of 24 hours a day dedicated to me, myself and I, working 8-10 hours a day in addition to the 8 hours of sleep that I’m doing my very best to try to get, which, sadly enough, oftentimes equals bedtime at 9 pm, leaves me no time to think. It might sound ridiculous to anyone in a ”normal” job (why do I still call it a normal job?!), but having had so many hours a day only to myself, myself and my thoughts, and being used to spending a fair share of them in cafés catching up with my thoughts and scribbling them down, I feel like all of a sudden there’s no time for anything. Nothing.
When I get home from work I am super tired as I’ve gotten up at 5 am for the morning shift that starts at 6.30 am (if I was willing to stress a little I could easily get up half an hour later, if not 45 minutes, but I prefer not to). I want to take a nap, but I also want to read, write and workout. I’d love to go to a café but they all close at 4 pm which I don’t get at all, but then again I don’t want to pay for a coffee as I get to drink as much (GOOD) coffee as I like at work (it is AWESOME. The barista told me she knows everyone’s coffees except for mine as I keep changing my order every single day… flatwhite, chai latte, iced long black; soy, almond, full cream milk… learning by trying, you know!). Anyways, then I need to go to bed at 9 pm to get up again at 5 am to go to work and take a nap and …
(Those who know me know that this is my way of expressing my going mental.)
Writing this makes me realize that I’m going through the exact same thing as during my two weeks of whiskey-waitressing. I am struggling with having (finding? making?!) time for what I want to do, which is to write and workout. Getting my head around my thoughts takes its time and right now, with everything that’s been going on in the past couple of weeks, I haven’t had enough of it. Hence the radio silence, but you know what? I’m back.
It’s time to start practicing what they preach in all the self-help books, time to stop thinking that I’m some kind of a super human who’ll get there (wherever that is) simply by going through page after page of ‘theory’. No, ‘done is better than perfect,’ so grab that pen and get on with it, even though it might not make any sense.
Write, post, write, post, write, post, and stop thinking about it too much. Over-analyzing, no mas!
Thus I now will post this without going through it a hundred times… yes, a hundred times. No editing, no proof-reading (…assuring my back?), no nothing; just me and my thoughts, honest and raw. It is time to start making time for what matters, so just do it.
Just do it!
(Can you imagine what the perfectionist in me is going through right now…?)