Lately, I’ve been thinking I should write a book.
Maybe that’s not how it works, maybe you just start writing and then you have a book.

To be honest, I’ve started* reading a lot of average books but not finished. I think ‘the netflix effect’ is related to books too. The booktok effect.
Let’s not start on the Netflix effect. (Where is the depth? The quality?!)

I could draw inspiration from my own life (bold of me to assume my life is that interesting), I can imagine it starting with… ‘How did I get here? I wondered as I peeled carrots. Oh I know exactly how I got here – working in the kitchen of a small town pub – but how did I get here?…’ and it could draw on themes of fantasy vs living that life in reality.

Maybe I don’t need to write a book. Maybe I need to see a therapist.

Ha! I live in a van. Do I look like I can afford therapy?

I digress.

I’ve found myself in an interesting situation.

In some ways, I have one foot out the door. One ear is listening out for new adventure – opportunity away from here.

I can appreciate this sleepy town for what it is, but I haven’t assimilated into the community and I feel no emotional investment.

On the other hand, I see myself belonging at work and being appreciated. I understand everyone is replaceable and working while travelling is essentially capitalizing on that, but it feels different here.

The thing is, if I was with my past ex and we had got a place, I could definitely settle into life here. But that is exactly what I declined and what lead to me hitting the road. ^{It’s interesting for me to think about why I feel better settling as a unit, rather than as a single person, but I think it comes to decision paralysis and it is actually a cop out.}

I have no emotional investment in the place but there are little nudges telling me maybe I should. To be fair, nothing great has ever come out of being emotionally invested anyway. Except stress and unhelpful feelings. Hence why I turned it off.

I have placed such a premium on having a calm nervous system, that I fear I have slipped back into disembodiment.

It’s interesting – when I’m at work, I work very well with physical tasks and focus, but if I need to use my brain things just don’t make sense.

Detachment has stopped me from feeling stressed, but it’s rendered me useless in some areas. I feel ditsy and wonder what my colleagues think – lucky for me they are very kind and forgiving – but it feels strange to have a seemingly physical limit where I cannot induce stress upon myself. Or I simply won’t.

It’s an interesting conundrum to have, because I come from a place of overachieving – getting everything done and correctly on my own. Now I am taking a step back and achieving what I can (which is all anyone asks), but I feel intrusive thoughts float by about how I could be doing more and I’ve lost my capability.

I feel a sense of overwhelm when I am met with gentle coaching instead of criticism and it makes me wonder what more there is to the picture.

I always say how I want to live a slow life, but now I’m living a slow life and it feels like I’m not doing enough. Yes, I could be more intentional, but this is the baseline.

I have been really trying to meditate and connect to astral planes, but maybe it’s just enough to be aware of what my body is doing.
Sure I might not be good with mental arithmetic, but I know what stage of my cycle I’m in and tend to my needs accordingly.
Sometimes I chastise myself for not being as available to others as I could be (again, not that they ask), but this is actually putting myself first. It’s funny how that doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s all I ever had to do and everything else was just noise.

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Maybe I am being too hard on myself and should give myself the luxury of being in one place, making friends and joining the community?

But if you flip that coin, it’s also feeling a little too rooted. The box you’ve built around yourself is a little too tight.

and there we have it, the shadow.

It’s interesting, I would rather live a life of excitement, curiousity and sometimes boredom and loneliness, but always have the option to change my mind and leave. Once you have a child, you don’t have that freedom to pick and choose. You’re locked in and I think that’s a bit of a tragedy. For me.
Put it down to my Gemini Sun or Libra Moon (or undiagnosed adhd? Who knows!), but I don’t have the patience to let something grow. It’s not even about instant gratification, it’s just diversity and change.

I’m not saying that when you have children you know how the story ends – no one can ever know – but you have a structure. A blueprint. For me? Who the fuck knows what’s happening in my life. I know I’m going home for Christmas and that’s about it.

It’s when the exciting life enters stasis – staying in one place to save money will do this – that these questions begin to arise.

I already feel better.

If I wrote a book, I would run the risk of living in my head even more than I do now. I could stay in this town forever (or the duration it takes to write) and live in the alternate reality I’ve created.

I don’t want that.