That’s it. Enough is enough. Stop this stupidity
I’ve taken all I can take. Sometimes, a girl has just got to do what she has to do and attack the nearest inanimate object because really it’s just the safest thing for the people around her. And I tell you what, that lamppost looks like it’s cruising for a bruising.
With two weeks left until my partner and I flee the country and all its inhabitants, I was expecting things to ramp up. You know, the usual stuff. Maybe double check our flights are booked, our transport to the airport is A-OK and that our suitcases aren’t going to spring open mid-flight and shower everyone else’s baggage in brightly coloured underwear.
But this is a bit much.
Fourteen days out and the accommodation we have had booked for MONTHS has been cancelled by our host leaving us nowhere to stay. Our new host is hard to contact, not responding and not to mention the increase in price has seen our savings take a big hit. BOTH of my jobs are pushing me to the limit and I don’t think I’ve slept in about eight weeks.
And I literally have been sitting in an ant’s nest for the ten minutes that I’ve been furiously bashing this post out at my keyboard. I’m not joking. You can’t make this stuff up.
These last six months have been hard, and I mean really hard. Dealing mentally, physically and emotionally with a serious injury has been traumatic enough and has seen my anxiety rear its head over and over again until I finally gave it a name and permanent space to live.
Since reading Mia Freedman’s (fantastic) book Work Strife Balance, I have begun to seriously recognise the effects of adulthood and am learning that it really is just as hard as everyone says it is (and by everyone I mean all the memes I see on Facebook about avoiding responsibility).
To paraphrase Freedman‘s words and generalise them to both men and women and to adulthood in general; to be an adult means having too many balls in the air. Too many pots on the stove. TOO MANY POTS I SAID GOD DAMN IT.
Mia tells that while you are excelling and succeeding in one aspect of your life, you are most probably failing in about three others. And the solution? Well, I’m not quite there yet, but I’m pretty sure it has something to do with just accepting that in the end, “Balance is bullshit”.
You’re right Mia. It’s complete and utter bullshit.
So while all my balls hit the floor (haha, still obviously not an adult in maturity) and all my pots bubble over, do you want to know what I’m going to do? Nothing.
I’m done with this balancing act, I never signed up for it in the first place.
Work? Hey, I’ve worked my bum off trying to fund this trip and I’ve done a good job. So I’ll take what I have and work with it.
Travel plans cancelled? Don’t sweat it. It’s Europe. In the worst case scenario, we stay in a hostel somewhere and meet some sweet peeps from Iceland and Russia. We see the city and live on nothing much at all, because at least we’ll be together and if you had to have a bad day….you might as well have it in Paris.
And rehab? Please. Don’t start me. I’m at a point where I’m tired of justifying the extra kilos to anybody that looked at me sideways – not that anyone actually asked me to justify it, but I have been so insecure I have most certainly felt the need to.
The bottom line is, that there is a time for everything. Stress can make you feel small and anxiety can make you feel less human than you thought possible. It has taken me a long time to realise that this spiralling road of self-doubt and low confidence is really only ever going to lead me down to a place where I don’t like who I am.
So my open letter to you, and most importantly – to me – hereby states that after everything I have experienced that I felt changed me, I am (RE-)learning to be unapologetically me.
I am not sorry for being unavailable to work, because it didn’t suit me or my plans and I am my most important thing. And no, I’m not upset my jeans don’t fit anymore because I have undergone an injury that has taught me compassion and understanding not only in my sporting life but life in general.
Finally, to end this ridiculous angsty rant and address my Mum, when you read this – know that I am fine. I am okay. Because I’ve had you to show me that when the going gets tough, you don’t back down. You do what you have to, and you make it work because it is always worth it.
Bring on Paris. Trust me, now I’m ready for you.
Votre amie dévouée,
La femme de faim x