There’s something to be said about the powerful consequences of change and how we unintentionally welcome it every once in a while. But in life’s true fashion you’re never prepared for the big ones, you’re never ready for it or aware it’s coming so more often than not you’re knocked flat on your arse.
I find it pretty much impossible to maintain stability in my life. My mind, my ideas and my thoughts change like the direction of the wind (something about being a creative type my mum says) but talk about whiplash, I never know whether I’m coming or going. I’m so deliciously rushed off my feet that half of me is ecstatically happy to be as unpredictable as the weather, and the other half is completely exhausted.
As I get older I become more accepting of the fact that it’s not wrong to be different from everyone else. That my mind and body are constantly rotating like the planets and that it isn’t always an entirely bad thing (makes for some very interesting late night writing) and that it might be a good idea to stop punishing myself for having a mind like lightening.
You have no idea how many times I’ve looked in the mirror and begged to be ‘normal’ and like everyone else. Or if not like everyone else then at least a normal version of myself. But it’s so hard to figure out which self is my normal self when each part of me is constantly evolving, and just when I find peace and settle, when I fixate on an idea that I can say ‘yes, that’s it’ to, it evaporates like mirror mist.
Trying to find my place as a woman, as a writer, as a traveller and as all the other figures I represent is something that I can now take a small pleasure in. Often when I write blogs my loved ones message me giving advice like I’m asking for help. ‘You need to do this-‘, ‘the reason you feel like this is because of this-‘ my writing is not a cry for help. This isn’t a phase, these are my thoughts, evidence that my mind is alive and growing. I used to and sometimes still do wonder how anyone could even begin to love or accept someone who’s mind is so like fire, seemingly so alluring yet is visibly fighting against itself. Dancing on its own discomfort but somehow manages to attract the attention of people who are obviously fascinated by irregularity.
As I become more confident in my mind, I am learning that it’s not always my fault, that when something feels wrong to me it’s not automatically my doing- that sometimes situations are just wrong, the people in your life no longer fit in your puzzle and that it’s not because you’ve made a mistake, it’s not because you’re not enough. It’s because sometimes people just can’t grow with you, that sadly people, your friends, lovers cannot accept or understand you. And that as painful as it is it’s time to pack up, swallow the disappointment and seek solidarity somewhere else, be persistent in your search to find your place because somewhere out there you’ll find your people and the love will flow like mountain streams, fresh, pure and consistent.