I’m beginning to finally recognise that what I have always believed is my greatest asset, is actually, perhaps, my greatest flaw. I’ve always had the uncanny ability to juggle many differently sized balls at once, without dropping them. Sometimes I falter. But rarely does it all fall apart. Except of course. When it does.
In the past few weeks I’ve been juggling more ferociously than I have been for years now. And I’ve found myself desperately longing for the boredom that came with the thick soupy air and the stubborn heaviness of a tropical summer. I’ve started yearning once more for that simplicity that I used to think meant that I wasn’t achieving, and now I realise that a lack of achievement is not necessisarily a bad thing.
This juggling act has been getting me down. My patience falters and I find myself temperamental and emotional (even more so than usual, which for me, is a stretch). In one hand I’ve got the last stretch of my degree, in another my child, up in the air I have freelance jobs, a part time social services job, a divorce and about three million unrealised stories and photographs that I want to get down but I’m on human and every single night I just run out of steam… I do not advise finishing a masters, getting divorced and single parenting all in the same six months. It’s ludicrous.
Without fail, every day, I drop a ball (or three)…
I used to think the secret to happiness was the chase. The great exploration in to the great unknown. The foreign lands and their captivating sights and smells. I used to think it was a backpack on my back and a passport in my pocket, traipsing the most enchanting of hills and trying to catch a wink of sleep in the foulest of buses.
I’m starting to think that maybe, I was wrong. I think the secret to true happiness is actually much simpler. It’s about paring back. Coming clean. Being honest and being brave enough to see each day as a fresh start… even if that fresh start begins with wee on the floor and the worlds most epic tantrum.
I don’t want to juggle anymore. I just want to hold one thing in my arms and focus my energy on it. I want to walk out into a yellow dressed autumn day and only smell the crisp air and the faint hint of burning wood without a clouded mind of jumbled thoughts and deadlines. Life seems like it’s in such a hurry. Every day I am racing from one thing to the next, as if time is slipping through my hands.
As if I’m scared that I don’t do enough I wont BE enough. I’m losing time. Every day.
It’s time for a change. Life is going to become a whole lot simpler in about five weeks. With the end of the degree, the end of my lease and the looming court date… once these things are done, we might just go on a spectacular adventure. Or maybe we’ll just settle right down. Pare it right back and just live it.
I’m not sure yet. But maybe that’s the point? Maybe we don’t have to be sure at all…