It’s been a difficult, heavy few weeks. The kind of difficult that quietly piles up when you’re not even looking, the kind of heavy that has manifested in ways I couldn’t understand – an unexplained lethargy, an inability to find the words to say the things I want to, an inability to engage in conversation beyond the bare minimum. It’s the kind of difficult I didn’t even notice until it had, as usual, burst and unraveled before me like a bag of marbles gone bust. When I have my mind set on something, I can keep going until something physically stops me. And in this case, disrupts my flow, and sends me flying, completely by surprise. That’s here’s the thing: when I have a goal, I’m a blinkered horse on a mission to reach the end.
2016 has been a year of monumental discovery and change of a transformational kind that I cannot begin to put into words. I’ve had some high highs, but when each of those phases have passed, I have also sunk to lows that have needed a good lot of effort to pick myself up from again. No matter what, I always get back and get going.
I get by, mostly because I am surrounded by people reminding me of all that I have going for me. Between VC, my parents, my friends, my tribe of girlfriends, some connections I’ve made online I am able to stay afloat, get up again and get going. I am immensely grateful and I never forget.
When enough time has passed, and I have smoothed over the creases, settled into the rhythm I like for myself, I have always felt like I’ve got this, I can do this. I am worth it. Increasingly, I realise I am so easily satisfied.
So when a new situation turns up and strikes me down, I am also easily alarmed. Things spin out of control and devolve much more than they should, or need to. I am strong, but I am also easily ruffled. I’m not talking about the laptop going bust, or the uphill climb that garnering work has been this month. It’s not the self-made pressure to make that holiday happen. It’s not the niggling issues I’m juggling around the home that have kept me from working full steam ahead. It’s not the guilt I have carried around like a burden of pebbles at the bottom of heart. It’s that same old shapeless, unputdownable, nebulous restlessness that keeps raising its head. Does this sound a bit familiar? If you’ve been reading my daily posts all year long, you will know how many times I have mentioned that I am feeling restless. That I am aching for my what next. That I am ready for something bigger, but have no idea what or how to begin getting ahead. This has been bubbling inside for pretty much all year, thus far. Time and time again I have found momentarily fixes that I have used to tape over the pain. Each time I have managed to even get on with life. Things have moved smoothly for weeks on end. I have had some spectacular milestones, some amazing wins. Eventually life has caught up, work flowed in and out, abundant travel happened, friends and family visited, I got busy with the mundanities. And every day the sun rises and sets as it should, the motions of it all are consuming and leave little room for deeper thought. Until the next big upheaval strikes, opening up old wounds, making new ones, exposing raw sides of me that need looking at. But you know what: no matter what I always pay attention. I’m not afraid to do the work that needs doing, to get up and get happy again.
2016 has been like wandering in a grassy field without a map, to reach a mystery location at the other end, with no idea how far I need to go, or in what direction. I know what I need to do, I get up ever single morning and I do it. I know where I need to go, but for a large part of this year I have felt like I don’t know where I’m headed. And yet, I have been forging my own path as and when I pleased, in the only way I know. I try. I keep trying. And I move ahead.
Today I realised that I have held on to my restlessness as the spark that I must keep fanning, believing it is the fire that will eventually force me out of the current space I’m in. But the truth is it has turned into a burden. And I am done lugging it around. I am done being weighed down by the immense proportions it has grown to. I am so over giving it more space than it needs in my life.
There’s the other thing about me. Once I have put my mind to something, I turn things around. I’m willing to live through the change, I can do the work it takes. But I always turn things around.
And so I decided don’t want to be restless anymore. Instead I want to go back to being keen. Eager. And always open.