Tuesday, 23 April 2013

Somewhere between sand and clouds.

I haven't been around. I know. Truth is, I've not really been myself lately. I've been tackling with emotions that have been presenting themselves in new and exciting ways that have, quite simply, blind sighted me.

I'm currently living in a state of what is either pure concentrated faith and unfathomable optimism or complete and utter denial. I never realised just how thin a line there is between the two, until recently.

You see, at the end of June, I am leaving my job for a 6 month period of unpaid leave. My employers have approved it, my
job post has gone out for applications and people are soon to be lined up for interviews scheduled for May. Everything is going ahead with the one plan in mind, I am going to America.

There's just one little insignificant catch... I have no money. I also haven't the frame of mind to raise said money.

I should have factored into my plans my unquestionable ability to personally destruct any good thing I have going for me. Anything that I plan for myself in a purely selfish and self-fulfilling way, I am so good at dreaming of in a "my head is always in the clouds" sense but the moment I even think there's a possibility of me achieving said dream, my head comes plummeting back down to earth and straight into a hole in the sand.

I've done it every time. For example:

1. My two finished books with no effort of publishing or letting anyone of importance see.

2. Leaving my blog by the wayside the moment I start to develop a loyal following.

3. So many friendships that I have given up making the effort for in favour of spending some quality time lying in my bed and being alone.

4. The fact that I won't even talk to a man when there is a possibility of romantic intentions.

All of this I do on a daily basis. Almost as if the possibility of rejection or disappointment will be that little bit less painful if I am the one who instigated it.

Don't get me wrong, occasionally I get pockets of being the organisational queen. In these moments, I put together packages of my book for agents, go on a splurge of writing in my blog every day for a whole week, even apply for 6 month unpaid leave at work and move into a more financially viable house with a supporting and loving family who brighten my mood without them even realising it. I even apply for the university I want to go to in America. But then a hurdle will hit me in the form of money or a larger demand of my time and effort and self... and suddenly I'm exhausted, fall into a pit of self-deprivation and become my worst critic, chastising my plans and even the way I walk around feeling sorry for myself.

I urge myself to be someone different. Someone who can organise and save and take stress with a wave of her hand and a smile on her face. I tell myself that if I'm more like that person, I'll get places. If I stop being ruled by my emotions and my tendency to criticise every single aspect of my life, I would be a better person. Doors will open and I will be free to be happy and take risks and achieve the desires of my heart and the dreams rooted deep in the very soul of me.


And then I realise I'm not that person. I'm trying to become some fantastical person most people aspire to be but few actually are. I realise this and suddenly the quiet peaceful sanctuary of my attic room and the freeing nature of my creative writing world seem like the only dreams I need. The money I promised myself I would save is spent on food and wine and materialistic things that, in that moment, become my closest friend.

I soak in the immediate comfort they bring me and put my dreams back on the clouds, far away from where I am, so that they can't hurt me by never coming true. I think... Maybe I can fulfil that dream another time, maybe it'll be better when my mind is more settled and my body is less panicked. And I smile to myself and agree to face the impending inevitability tomorrow. Tonight, I'm blissfully ignorant.

Of course, that moment of bliss never lasts, and soon life is there, right in front of me, demanding all of me.


And that's where I am. Unsure of what will happen. Unsure of where I will be in a few short months. Unsure of even what I hope to accomplish by writing this down, only that I needed to and I have.

Peace out my lovelies.