What’s the rush?

The summer I turned 25 I suddenly felt an intense self-pressure to make changes in my life. I looked back on my years of adulthood since graduation and realised I had not yet achieved the things I wanted to. So I quit my job, went back to study and left my partner at the same time all in a big push towards the sort of life I’d always dreamed of for myself. One of passion, challenge and adventure in foreign lands. Finally realising what I wanted and needed to do with my life was empowering, but with that came the need to ‘fix’ all the things at once. Meeting new people, eating healthier, working out 3 times a week (on top of walking an average of 80 miles a month), classes, additional study, job research/applications, general socialising ect. Doing so much felt right because they all had their positive connotations and effects on my life, as well as feeling like steps into the direction of the future I wanted. I was desperately trying to catch up on the years I had felt were ‘wasted’ not pursuing my life goals and dreams. I felt that I had dithered my early twenties away, settled and unchallenged in the ways that would help me grow into the person I wanted to be. So doing things I felt made me better was a way to sprint up to where I wanted to be. 

In pandemic life, reflections on productivity are not uncommon. And I had one earlier today, recalling a painful back injury I suffered in March. It lasted a couple of weeks and required incredibly painful exercises to fix which naturally proved difficult to self administer. I had a similar injury in 2019, but managed to fix it the same evening it occurred. However, this time it was worse. I struggled to push into the pain the way I needed and spent a week limping through my life. I had so much more to do than previously and all my commitments were to and for myself, and I refused to let myself down. My need to be doing, achieving and experiencing had outweighed my own physical health. Just as my back seemed to heal I fucked it again on a night out. It was a fun night, to be sure, the kind of dancing, laughter and semi-drunken snogs against a brick wall, but after my injury was worse. To fix my problem I had to allow myself to be vulnerable around someone, break my perfectionist facade, and allow them to support me. Quite literally, hold me up so I could push my spine back into alignment. There are a lot of ways to be vulnerable but half-naked, in pain and physically incapacitated as you cry out of anguish is up there. But in doing so I finally healed. (My back at least).

Should a similar thing happen to me today, I know that I would be much more forgiving. Additionally, it is with thanks to the pandemic that I think that way. Unable to start my life abroad as soon as I wanted meant taking more time; to finish my degree, be with my family, connect to myself emotionally and develop skills without stress and undue pressure. There’s no rush. I am, of course still determined and driven to achieve my goals but I know now the power of taking time and thought in the process before achieving them. I now know so much more about myself, what is important to me and feel much better prepared for what may lie ahead. I don’t have to push myself to breaking point to feel worthy of my own time, I can enjoy just being in whatever stage I’m at. 

TLDR: Notions of productivity are harmful constructs of a capitalist society, we are worth more than what we do and sometimes it is more worthwhile to do nothing.

Odyssey

Yesterday I loaded my most recent save of Assassin’s Creed Odyssey. I’m finally getting round to the DLC. When I went to save my new progress I noticed the date of my last play. September 6th. Two thirds of a year ago. I’m not really surprised by how long it has been since I played, for a while I didn’t have a tv to play games on and I go through phases of getting really into one game then not touching it for ages. But what took me off guard was how much my life has changed since then, and still is. 

At the beginning of September I was still 24 working in a dull and demanding office admin job. A couple of weeks later I turned 25, had left my job and started an MA. I met many new people and said goodbye to some others. I felt revitalised and excited, these steps were going to take me where I wanted to be. Which was out of the routine unfulfilling office job in my university city and into the wider world. I felt in control. I became fitter and stronger in this time too. But with a new understanding of myself and what I wanted came a challenge I wasn’t ready for. 

I realised something new about control, and that is you can only change yourself. It is still taking time for me to accept the end of my relationship. My heart is still fragile from having put my dreams and needs above what had been a true and great love. After four years it ended in November. Then I moved to a new area in December. House searching and contract signing alone, I felt empowered by my adult capabilities. Small things like washing my own dishes, only having my own dust to vac and a room of just my stuff felt novel but right. Tiny accomplishments, little steps. Putting more space behind me, from what was, in the hopes I would get closer to what will. So I stayed busy.

With December came reasons to go out. Mates, dates, anything so I would not be stuck and still in a room alone. Likely to think about the home I’d lost. January was more the same, but now there were essays and a recurring face. In February I went to Prague. A year or so old goal but impulsively booked after a night of drinks and a drunken agreement.  Another escape. But in a new and different place I was haunted by my loss. I’m grateful I got to go away and overall my time there was wonderful. However, with a holiday comes time to think, and if you have been trying to ignore your squishy heart, thinking hurts. 

The bright blue skies and greening trees seemed to welcome better things to come. Spring was on the horizon. The recurring face became a series regular. My ex-but still tall-friend found someone else too. I thought I was over the big bumps. Then, as my world had been changing over the months, everyone’s did in a week. First stay away, then close the pubs, schools and the McDonald’s, and suddenly we had to close ourselves away. 

For me, this meant retreating to my parents house, thinking the country would be best. There, I dealt with thrown off plans and recurring thoughts of things I wanted to leave behind.  It was easy to wallow, but it also forced me to face certain pains I had been trying to ignore. At the time I accepted what I could. However writing my second batch of essays without a proper place to study, hunched over a laptop on beds and makeshift desks, quickly felt an impossibility. Additionally, the strain of putting a new relationship through long distance. The anonymity of phone sex, a thrill at first, hardly builds connection and chemistry. Instead I felt disconnected, despite care packages and postal flowers, a dinner date with a screen made me feel lonelier than being alone. It also became clear, without the possibility of getting a new job anytime soon, I needed to say goodbye to my room. 

I somehow, I finished my second batch of essays. Walked in the parks and around places I had grown in as I became an adult. Thought more about what I value and need. Enjoyed the sun on my skin. Then I said goodbye, to my tall friend and my life in the city. It would be nice to think about living in Manchester again after I’ve done with the next stage of my life. But, let’s face it, gentrification is going to price the people that care about the city as it is now away. It’s no big loss to me. I had my time there. And while a cyclical narrative does have a certain charm, it’s not exactly the ‘break the mould’ and ‘forge your own path’ thing I’m going for here. So, what I will look forward to is my visits back to see the people (and pizza) I love.

cof

Since September things are pretty different for me. They possibly are for you too. Taking a moment to reflect on everything overwhelmed me a little yesterday. I still feel certain pains and have some worries but I know that I’m still on the right path. I’ve had the time to accept and let go. Everyday I can still make choices that will help me achieve my goals. Although it felt like the world stopped, it didn’t really. I just needed to look at how far I’ve come, to see that I’m still moving forward on my own odyssey.