Finding home.

Sydney, predominantly Surry Hills, has grabbed me by the crouch, satisfying her ceaseless appetite through making me her minion. Admittedly, this is not entirely a one sided story. I've willingly submitted myself. I’m guilty as charged. I blame her though, I do, she's wickedly attractive and I lack resistance to her charms.

There is an overwhelming plethora of opportunities waiting to be experienced at my doorstep. Myriad cafes, restaurants, bars, grocers, book stores, libraries even. Just walking down my street is pleasurable. The options combined with an absence of company, structure or scheduled responsibilities has provided me with ample opportunity to get out and discover. I too often get carried get lost conjuring up ways to fill the generous pockets of time bestowed upon me. 

Abundant  time used  to induce loneliness in me...

Discomforting, unwavering loneliness. Entirely separate from the beauty that is alone time, loneliness has always sent me running in all kinds of directions, escaping. In the past loneliness has had me packing up house, in order to fill the gaping hole inside. But this time, this home, is different. I've never felt so content in my life. I adore every little thing about where I live, with whom I live and the way I live. 

Now I fill my free hours sipping coffee, tea, cooking and simply wandering these city streets, as opposed to endlessly searching. I don't long for something better to come along. These days, I'm satisfied with the right now, it feels nice, really nice.


Ride the waves of anxiety.

It's Monday morning, again. You've woken up with familiar twangs of pain permeating your muscles. Your tireless brain has conjured up, multiplied and, thus inflicted a weighty burden over the span of your entire body. Upon waking, it instantly becomes impossible to deny that your brain is one manipulating power-hungry mother fucker.

You know the feeling, your anxiety is back again...

You so desire to fill your day with positivity. You already read inspirational manifestos, words peppered with positivity on a daily basis hoping that they will elevate your happiness. Alas life is not always a leisurely stroll in the park. 

After a mind-numbing, insomnia saturated evening, You've awoken into a full-fledged negative head-space. All would have been forgotten if you had have woken up renewed. Then you could have put it down to a weak moment or an over dramatic tantrum. But, you did not wake up with fresh resolve or fresh anything for that matter. You went to bed in a foul, anxiety riddled mood. You've woken up in a foul, anxiety riddled mood. 

Confusingly, you can’t seem to shake this painstakingly hefty feeling that you've rushed into things, or made the wrong decision. The chaotic speeding is ceasing to slow. Your mind runs rampant. Could you be suffering from a post decision making hangover? Didn't this decision at first glance gloat optimism? Then, why now does it reek of carelessness? For some incomprehensible reason, you cannot shake your internal frustration, everything has just happened way too quickly. 

Things were feeling good, amazing even. You were oozing confidence, which is why you tossed out your life jacket. Your harried pace lead you to assume that its bulkiness would only weigh you down. Pity nobody told you to hang onto it just in case. And now you're struggling to stay afloat. In hindsight the obviousness is blinding, you sold yourself short. You always do. In your conflicted mind there's never any room for compromise. You always pull the shortest straw out of handful of shortest straws. Self victimized, you willingly throw away your choices, your real voice, your confidence, leaving yourself fighting for breath. You're drowning now, of that you're sure. There's not even the slightest chance of you surviving this time around. It's fucking rough and you're feeling weak.


Soon enough, and seemingly out of the blue, your strength slowly returns and before you know it you're strong enough to hold your whole bodies weight. You're floating above the waves now, instead of being sucked under. 

Anxiety for many of us is temporary, typically it comes in bouts. It's both painful and infuriating, but trust me, it's comforting to accept this. Knowing that you can come out whole again on the other side is literally life saving.

With that being said, I propose we try to be genuinely grateful for our bouts of anxiety for without them we would never question our life. Of course whilst knees-deep involved in the riddles, we simply cant, yet usually a week or so later. It's afterwards that we can remember how good it feels to be self assured. Anxiety riddles morph us into the kinds of people who who can solve whatever rare, ridiculous situation comes our way. We discover resolve or get along without it. As time presses on we become okay with not knowing, confident that the uncertainty is the best part. 

It's not until that special Monday morning after you've jerked your bones out of bed that you can completely appreciate how prodigious it feels to wake up feather-light, neutral and accepting. And, darling, it was all you, nobody else. You saved yourself because you're the only one who can.


Today doesn't have to a burden.

Todays less than favourable events are floating over me like an acid filled cloud about to burst and rain down on me after seven straight days of impossible, sweltering heat. After drumming up every negative I could, and unintentionally crowding out all the positive, thankfully, I have arrived back at the place I started from. Truthfully, starting again scares the fucking shit out of me. If I had to sum it up in just one word, it would be change. At the consideration of change, my breath alters pace and my lungs constrict, pinching my heart. 

In this very moment I know it's fear. Fear is plaguing me, of that I am sure. Fear is a dirty, irrational mother fucker that grasps my heart strings tightly, pulling them apart string by string. That's my position right now. I'm lodged somewhere between old and new habits; between drive and fear. Despite my best intentions, I too long to crawl back under my bedsheets and hide when life turns to shit. Yes, I'd do anything to escape the sadness and the infuriating grief. 

Which brings me to today...

Today I'm giving myself  a cliched ultimatum; sink or swim. So I'll swim, sans inflatable device. I'll paddle with all my might on route to sanity’s shore. Of course I can’t pretend I’m not scared. I’m scared of drowning. I’m scared of a ginormous wave swallowing me whole. I’m scared of violent sea creatures selecting me from the dinner menu. I’m even scared of seaweed. But I believe it's this fear busting that separates me from the herd of sheep walking the predetermined path ahead of them. Baa-baaa-baaaaing an identical tune. Never questioning, never reflecting or reassessing their direction.

Personally, I'd rather fight my way through tortuous waters, uncertain of what’s ahead of me than opt to take the safest road if laden with dissatisfaction. It’s a non-negotiable, I simply have to paddle my own way. So I'll appease the fear by letting let him stick around for a while, if only to prove him wrong, laugh in his pitiful face. 

Even though at times it can be agonising, I know deep down in my heart of hearts I dont want to wear my victim badge any longer. Indeed, I finished that final chapter sometime ago. It wasn’t easy reading but I pulled through and immediately felt as if I’d truly accomplished something upon completion. Since then, I've shut that book tightly and refused to re-read another word, there's no use in trying to relive the past. I've since regifted the book to my local charity store for some ill-equppied other in need of confronting these difficult, yet worthwhile  lessons spawned across the pages.

Funnily enough, fear ceases to feel like an option after you have given your all to something. It's in the trying, the pressing on without knowing that makes a world of difference.

Let's make a difference.



Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...