This time last year, I was preparing to walk 800 km across Spain. I was at a high point in life — about to take three months off for a well-earned holiday. The Camino de Santiago had been a dream of mine for at least a decade, but it only became a real possibility in the last few years after I dug in my feet and started working extra jobs.
It was hard work to get there, as was completing the walk. Did you know you can be so exhausted you can’t sleep? That you just lie there and shake. Do you know how psychologically terrorising bedbugs can be?
I’d elaborate, but I’m actually writing about what’s going on now. It’s a different kind of testing time. Rather than seeking it out, this year’s challenge has come for me. Out of nowhere, this vessel got rattled by a wave. Then BOOM – again. Then again. Then again. With the first few being too personal, I’ll just share the latest: our landlord has asked us to leave so they can move back in.
We’d made such a home out of this home, that I guess I’d started to believe it was actually ours… Of course, the decision is definitely theirs to make. But the timing of everything – just – seems – so – fucking – cruel. I had to check I wasn’t on an episode of Home and Away. Because life has honestly felt like a sitcom. If so, then I’m definitely the bad guy. I must have done something to deserve this right?
These are the thoughts that first go through your mind. Then the grief kicks in. And rather than jumping right to ‘fix-it’ mode, I’ve let myself feel sad about it. I’ve told myself that we’re built for this. To feel things, and to heal from things. It’s safe — if I sit here for a moment, I won’t get stuck.
The day after the sulking, I got to work. My spreadsheet is out, and I’m reading through rental ads, crunching numbers, assigning scores, and booking inspections. It’s what I did 2.5 years ago when the apartment I was in started leaking. However, I was more enthusiastic then. We were going to upgrade.
This time, it’s hard to shake the feeling that we’ll be taking a step back. The place we have and its location are that good. An idea from Struthless, where he talks about rock bottom and transition points, is helping. He shared how he asks himself: “How is this the best thing ever?”
Although our place is amazing – like too good of a deal. I’m opening myself up to the possibility that moving could be a good thing. After all, situations are not just defined by what has happened, but also by what happens from here.
What happens from here?
Notice how I wrote it the second time as a question? That’s to remind myself I’m the one who answers it. I didn’t have any input on my landlord moving back in, but where we move to has everything to do with me. I’m reminding myself that I’ve had jobs created and handed to me all because of my efforts. So, dam right, I’m going to do what I need to do.
Change is a part of life. Sometimes, we make changes, and at other times, we respond to them. Although we can’t say which is for better or worse. When I look back on my life, I recognise that some of the best changes were forced upon me — often untimely and cruelly, as it feels now. The best example is my decision to spend one year living and working in Tonga. It took getting fired and months of difficulty finding work to get me to that point. If we don’t go willingly to the ledge where we leap out of our comfort zone, life pushes us there.
So, as I return to my spreadsheet and think about what that strange smell was in yesterday’s inspection, I’m reminding myself of what I know to be true: that I’m resilient, capable, and adaptable. Wherever I end up, I’ll make it work, as I have before. Though I’d love to be pleasantly surprised. I certainly don’t plan on living in the conditions I had in Sydney: a tiny room where I could touch the ceiling, a ‘view’ of a solid grey wall, and a housemate who leaves prawn skins on the kitchen table.
What happens from here?
Stay tuned.
