It is both a blessing and a curse that I sometimes need to
reach unbearable desperation to take a much needed leap of faith—perhaps less of a leap more of a step this time, but the heaviness of the fog surrounding me
for months on end made that step feel like a lifetime had passed. It had been a long and dark sadness that had
consumed me for what seemed like years, a sadness that had dulled my intellect,
had dimmed the light in my eyes and had taken the colour out of my skin. The
desperation to find a path, to somehow fulfil the role my age requires had
added anguish to my sadness. I knew deep down that I needed to go back to the
place where I learned to live through my most destructive emotions, and to
rebuild my life afterwards. Although it may seem like it, I wasn’t running
away, not this time. I was doing the only thing I could think of that would lift
the fog, because staring at those four walls and thinking I could live my life
like that started to seem like a good plan.
And so once again, on a cycle that I am becoming familiar with,
on a whim, taking that step of faith, following my instincts, knowing that I
needed to breath a different air, to have different conversations, to touch
roots I had recently planted but felt like the only thing that was my very own,
I reached out to a wonderful friend, booked my flights, packed my bags and within
a week I was on my way back “home” to Thailand.
Many things are different this time, I am not the emotional train
wreck I was last time, and I am not seeking to challenge myself in order to
heal those wounds. This time I am at a crossroads but not the emotional kind (surprisingly
for once I am deeply content with the state of my heart) the crossroads is one
that I’ve been avoiding for a long time, until it became inevitable: what is my
purpose? Yes, that sounds a bit overwhelming and masochistic, but for me the
fog that had settled in my head and in my life for the past couple of years was
because I had forgotten to look for a purpose. It would be utterly ridiculous
for me to assume that at the age of 32 I would have a purpose, but I had given
up on finding one completely. I had forgotten why I was so passionate about so
many things, and simply settled for making a living and paying my debts.
Making a living is not living. I was grey and tired. I was
coping well with life, the many setbacks thrown my way I dealt with but I was
grey. And the greyness led to sadness, and I lost the motivation to find my
passion. I thank my instincts because they are sometimes stronger than my will,
and they guide me well. And they did so this time, like they did the last time.
I left the comfort of my cave with the usual apprehension,
not entirely willing to leave the security the blindness that the fog provided.
But the moment I got on the tuk tuk on the way to my friend’s flat and the
realisation that I had left London; that I was back, it was the sounds and the
smells of Bangkok, I cried. I felt free for the first time in years. The leap
of faith broke some heavy chains. We spent hours, and days talking. Talking
about our lives, our jobs, what had happened since the last time we saw each
other. She is an amazing woman, she has a great ability to inspire greatness
and to motive not only herself but others to reach for success. Just listening
to her, and having her listen to me was the first step I needed to take.
I met her son and
seeing them together made me realise without a doubt that I want to be a mother.
After all the loss, that for me was the most beautiful vision I saw when the
fog started to lift. I don’t only want to be a mother, I am consciously making
that choice and all that it entails.
Initially I was only going to stay a week, but for whatever
reason I stayed longer. I went to an island and decided to spend my time there
by myself, writing and thinking about the conversations I had with my friend. Thinking
about the options I have, no, that’s not it, the options I have been given, and
instead of dwelling on what I haven’t done with them I started thinking about
what I can start building. For some unknown reason I thought, I sometimes still
think, I am just a product of my circumstances, and that I have no talent of my
very own, my ideas, my thoughts, even my feelings cannot be trusted (this as
you know is an ongoing issue…).
But that,
even if partially true, does not explain the person writing this, the person
who decided to take a very raw look at her achievements, and failures, and look back at who she was at 17, and think forward
at who she wants to be, and who she can become. Does her idea of success
contradict her vision of happiness? Can she marry the two? I do not know, but I
know what I am not prepared to compromise: my intellect. It is outrageous that
it took me this long to realise that but there you go, that is a lesson for
everyone out there, if it takes a feminist like me 32 years, just imagine...
This unexpected yet badly needed return to Thailand is
coming to an end, as usual I wish I could snap my fingers and become one of
those people I admire so much who can move to one of these wonderful islands, set
up a business and just do that. But deep down I know for me the fog would
settle eventually because that is not my path, and it is not my purpose. But
that life, their life, does teach me something, a lesson that I do forget too
easily, I can live my life so simply and with so little and be many times more
happy. It is a lot easier to live generously when you are generous in your own
life, with yourself; not with buying things that occupy space that then you
have to pay for, but generous with the experiences you give yourself, the lessons,
the opportunities. Or knowing that when you go to bed at night you have lived a
day on earth that made you happy and made earth happy (granted it is midnight
and I am sitting in a bungalow in the middle of a rainforest with monkeys and
geckos talking to me for the past five days, and I have not had any privacy
from fauna in this island…).
I am going back to London in a few days and even though I
wish I could become a writer and travel the world doing what I am doing right
now I don’t think neither my liver nor my lungs would appreciate it. I actually
decided a while back that being a writer was not my call, at least not my only
one, and this “whim”, this leap of faith has pointed me in the right direction.
A direction where my intellect and my heart are committed, and united, for once
in over a decade. Now the work begins…
(there is no soundtrack for this post because I had no soundtrack while writing it apart from the laughter of a 2 year old, geckos and monkeys, the best soundtrack I have ever had)
No comments:
Post a Comment