I always end up saying the same thing in the end. About not knowing what direction I’m going in. I think back to calmer times, when I had a direction. I remember thinking so surely about what I wanted. I had a direct route. I knew what I wanted to achieve. I was stable, steady and sure.
Now I have no idea what I want.
The only thing that is sure is my writing. I had felt lost before, not knowing which storyline to dedicate myself to. I wanted to create a new world to throw myself into. But I couldn’t find satisfaction in any of them.
I found myself drawn back to the storyline that I started in Australia. The book that I will be releasing in just a matter of months. Returning to that world has brought me a sense of comfort. I am surrounded by familiar characters and places that I know. It’s reassuring. I know this world. I belong in this world. It’s a one point of surety when everything else is changing around me.
Being in charge of your own happiness sounds liberating. I suppose it is, but it’s terrifying as well. You are solely responsible for making yourself happy. You can’t rely on anyone else.
It’s been challenging.
Nothing is enough. I want to do more. I’ve begun to do things that I didn’t even think I would do. I’m learning lessons all over again, and wonderfully for me I’ve been able to put what I’ve recently learned from them into action.
It’s difficult to not look back at the past. It’s hard to forget that in those moments I felt safe and secure. I have never felt the presence of myself so keenly before.
It’s like being stuck with someone you just can’t get rid of- and that person is yourself.
Maybe that’s what I’ve been attempting to distract myself with.
The past few weeks have been wonderful, hectic and agonising. Every day is progression. Every day is a step closer to my goals. The past couple of months I’ve taken time out for myself. It’s been self indulgent, but I’ve needed it. I’ve needed that time to get comfortable in my own skin again. I’ve learned a lot of things about myself that I didn’t before. I feel like a completely different person to who I was months ago. I feel more me. I recognise traits of myself that I haven’t seen for years. I surprise myself every day by the things that I will do or say.
It’s like getting to know someone all over again.
I’ve had a new zest for life. And whether it’s a zest because it’s the only way to make the day go quicker or because I’m genuinely excited to explore new things, I suppose either way it’s good.
I’ve gone out and done stuff, which ordinarily I wouldn’t have done before. I started roller skating. I explored a castle. I stayed up till 2am editing my book. I stayed out until 5am in the morning. I did a children’s book event in Coventry. I went on a date. I went to a 1930’s gin festival. I explored an abandoned building. And whereas I found a world with wheels strapped to my feet and falling on my arse more enjoyable than dating, I’m sure there will be more new things for me to experience in July.
And most importantly I’ve been able to stick up for myself the past few weeks. I’ve been able to say no when I thought something was wrong. I’ve been able to tell someone straight when I’ve felt they’ve treated me poorly. I’ve been able to make a wise decision that would have saved a lot of grief for me in the future.
I recognise my worth. I know my value.
It’s like I’m finally listening to that part of myself that is trying to look after me.
And I’m grateful for that part.