“The art of simplicity is a puzzle of complexity” – Douglas Horton
You know you have changed as a person when you’ve passed a life test with flying colours. A test that, years ago, you’d never have succeeded in finishing, for the simple fact that there was (literally) a piece missing.
Are you ready for a little paradox?
Over the Christmas holidays, me and my mother took it upon us to finish a puzzle of 1,000 pieces. Don’t ask me why, because neither one of us is into jigsaws, yet we thought this would be a fun challenge.
We started on Christmas Eve and a few weeks later (we didn’t work on it every day), this was the end result:
It feels like I spent hours looking for that missing piece, but I failed to find it. It could be anywhere or nowhere at all (maybe it wasn’t even in the box to begin with, who knows?). In reality, though, I’d given up my search in about ten minutes.
The absence of this one meagre puzzle piece would have felt like a thorn in my old self’s eye and I wouldn’t have been able to step over it for days, weeks maybe. Perhaps I’d never have been able to really accept the frustrating fact that one lousy piece was missing – a failure, even if 999 pieces are in place, the annoyance of that one piece missing would instantaneously destroy any feelings of success.
The new me sighed it off after a mere few minutes and carried on with her life. There’s more important things to worry about, I thought.
That’s your paradox right there: that one piece missing from the jigsaw is also a lost piece I’ve found in my personality. I’ve grown.
That silly we’ll-never-do-that-again* puzzle might be unfinishable, I am working on my own personal completion, one piece at a time.
How have your holidays been? Any pieces you’ve added to your own puzzle?
*My mum’s birthday is coming up and as a surprise gift I’ve ordered a custom made jigsaw, another astonishing 1,000 pieces, of her grandchildren. I’m afraid we’ll actually do it all again, but I hope this time we won’t be missing any bits
PS: I am slowly coming back to life and I’ve put “WP” in my journal. That’s code for “I hope to make time this week to read up on all if your blogs” (finally)!
“Insomnia is a vertiginous lucidity that can convert paradise itself into a place of torture” – Emil Cioran
Well, that writing challenge sure was over sooner than I thought… It’s been put on my list of things to do one day, yet I suppose we all know that’s code for probably never.
And I’m not even sorry about it.
For the past 29 days I have not really been sorry about anything. Like not working on my business – not sorry.
Neglecting my appearance – not sorry.
Not working out – not even going to try and be sorry about this one.
The thing is: I have insomnia. Don’t ask me what keeps me up at night, please, because I don’t know. I know it’s more than 1 thing, or else I’d be able to answer that question.
I know the English equivalent is about a camel and a straw, but in Dutch we say “it’s the droplet that makes the bucket spill”.
I feel as if I am the bucket, and I was doing okay, then all of a sudden all these small, seemingly irrelevant little things happened all at once and now I’m spilling over as if it’s the only thing I’m left knowing how to do.
Things as my eldest sister turning evil and trying to feed me cherry pie. Like, really? I’ve hated cherries all my life, never even as much as eaten half a one, and you dare ask me if I’m sure I “don’t want just a small piece?” – talk about crap acting, too. She “did not get anything else as a treat for her 41st”, because she “assumed everyone would enjoy the cherry pie.” Imagine the whole family munching away and me sitting there with nothing.
And no, it’s not the cake. I couldn’t care less. It’s being excluded that hurt. Deliberately excluded. So there was that.
Then there was a series of happenings involving a series of ex-classmates. One of them started her own business, and even if she’s doing something completely different than me, she got double the Facebook likes in one week than I’ve managed to collect in two years. It makes me feel as if everyone sees it, you know, The Secret To Running A Successful Business, but me. I’m definitely missing something here, and it’s more than Facebook likes (which is funny, because I hate Facebook and normally don’t care too much for likes of any kind, anywhere. It’s just the thought of me doing something wrong and not knowing what).
About a month ago I’m driving my car and what do I see when about to hit a roundabout? A giant blown-up face of another ex-classmate who’s running for a local government office position (I don’t even know where to begin trying to explain this, so just picture a massive head on a poster and a terrible slogan to accompany it). It scared me. Not just the face (he is actually younger than me yet looks about 10 years older!), but the fact that he’s the main face of a big political local party and I am… where in my life, exactly?
Then my birthday comes along and I am not even allowed to take revenge on Evil Sister, because I live with my parents and, well, they just love to see their grandchildren munch away at home-made apple pie. So there you have it: my own sister treats me like sh*t, won’t talk about what’s bothering her and instead decides to go full passive aggressive on my butt, and I cannot even strike back because of her children. It’s like they’re her shield to avert attacks from outside. Yuck.
It feels as if I am still the doormat I have been trying so hard not to be. “Take the punches, but don’t ever think of hitting back or else I’ll keep the kids away from mom and dad and it will be your fault” – that’s what I hear, in my head. It’s quite possibly not entirely fair, but Evil Sister has once said: “Maybe I shouldn’t come home for a year and then they’ll respect me more, too” (referring to our other sister’s one-year disappearance act), so I am not keen on proving my theory either right or wrong…
And of course, my business is doing sh*t as well, and no, it’s not just COVID, it’s me! I have no *** idea what I am doing, and even if I am convinced I am a super coach (I actually really do believe I am great at coaching!), I lack in the Getting Clients department.
What also doesn’t help is that the person I hired to teach me all that jazz, a) has postponed the programme I enrolled in due to personal matters and b) possibly doesn’t understand me.
I am not like other people. You say things as social media following and I don’t get excited, I shiver. And what the heck would I do with email addresses if people were to sign up for my blog or website!? Why should I pester anyone with “special offers” when I’m really more into attracting people who already know they want a coach?
I’ve had coaching clients in the past. None of them signed up for any list, downloaded any free email clickbait or decided they should follow my persona because I am “so cool”.
I reckon it worked fine for all of us, really, but now all I hear is how building a list of emails is a must to be a self-employed coach (or anything else).
Al I am trying to say is that I don’t get it, the whole entrepeneuring-thing. To me, following what everyone else does because it works feels… fake. If there’s only one way of becoming a successful self-employed coach, wouldn’t that mean we’re all essentially doing (and being) the same? The same motives, the same techniques, the same methods, the same websites, the same stories, all over and over. Endlessly repeated like we’re The A-Team reruns on TV. How can you stand out when you’re only ever copying others?
There has got to be a different way, surely? But… I haven’t found it yet and so far it’s kept me from having had any clients in 2020. So, do I relent or do I keep fighting?
Anyway, to sum it all up: my life feels like a joke. And it’s a feeling that’s been simmering in the background, but has come to a boil due to all these separate events that quickly followed one another.
Have I mentioned yet that what keeps me up at night is my head spinning? As if I can’t turn it off, no matter how tired I am (and I am tired!! So, so tired!). My heart often beats so loud it’s as if it’s trying to come out of my chest, and every time I am about to fall asleep, I am immediately jerked back to sleeplessness by a panic attack or two, that increase in waves and force as the night lingers on.
My doctor (who is finally retiring!! BEST NEWS OF 2020!!) prescribed me highly-addictive sleeping pills that work – sometimes. Sometimes they don’t.
At least they’ve given me a goal for 2021: detoxing.
December 3rd is my date with – irony inserted here – a GP-linked coach.
In five days I am going to talk about my issues with a man who has the job I want.
Who knows, maybe he can give me a hint or two.
This post is growing much longer than I’d imagined… Perhaps I have more on my mind than I thought, after all – and this is just the tip of the iceberg, really.
Anyway, that’s why I’ve been even more silent than I normally am: I don’t sleep. I am exhausted all day long, yet when it is time to close my eyes and drift off, all I do is panic.
And I wish I could say I am not sorry about that, but I am. Very much.
I refuse to give up, though. So what if I am different and it’s hitting me harder than it’s ever done before? I’ve had a long walk and talk with a good friend yesterday, and it’s helped me clear some things up.
And then there’s this last song, of course. My personal anthem, if you will. I don’t give up. I don’t run. Not from panic attacks, not from Evil Sisters and surely not from really scary giant old-looking men’s heads on posters (although when encountered in real life, I’d definitely run!).
You don’t get me down. I know, you keep me up.
But you also give me plenty of time to overthink my strategy.
Luctor et emergo.
I struggle and overcome – again and again and again. And again.
Here’s to everyone suffering from anxiety, stress, insomnia or all of the above:
We might not sleep. But we don’t run away from our problems, either.
“Often, bumpy roads lead to beautiful places” – Dave Martinez
Whoops, there life was, getting in the way of my plans. Sorry about that.
Then again, most of you are probably used to me being MIA every so often. I guess I just didn’t want to let you down 😉
Life has actually been very busy, with tons of ups and downs as is natural. But today I am back to picking up where I left off, as I am determined to bring this writing challenge to a good end (just when that end will be remains a mystery).
#5 – List 5 places you want to visit:
Well… that’s a bit of a let-down. Or a challenge, depending on how you look at it 😉
In the light of COVID-19 I’d say even a short list of 5 places reads as a drama story, considering I won’t be visiting any anytime soon, but oh well. I am not the only one and like Einstein (presumably) said: my imagination can take me anywhere.
But as soon as my money peaks and the borders open, here’s where I’d like to go:
I once started a private list of silly things to do in foreign places and guess what’s to do in Tirol? I am thinking much more than learning how to yodel, but at the same time: whynot? I can definitely visualise myself on top of a mountain in a short skirt, surrounded by cows and other quirky people like me, yodelling our hearts out*. After a few drinks, of course. And in the right company.
* Please do not make me any wiser if learning how to yodel in Tirol is nothing like this…
Next on the list: Kappa fishing in Japan. Don’t laugh. Don’t judge. Don’t growl at me either! I saw this in a documentary about Japan and it seemed like just the thing I’d do. I like cultural spirituality, and much like elves in Iceland and trolls in Norway, this sounds like a fun afternoon to me. Plus, with my worm-phobia fishing with a cucumber as bait seems like a great plan!
What’s wrong with me? The moment the temperature outside hits below 10 centigrades I stop feeling my feet and start complaining about hypothermia, yet I feel the very strong desire to spend a night in an ice hotel!? It doesn’t even have to be Jukkasjärvi, anywhere in Sweden is fine (although I probably had you re-reading that twice, didn’t I?)
Oh, woe to me! With a weekend-birthday this year I had Great Plans to visit Ireland in a cottage in Wicklow. Do some hiking, visit my beloved Dublin, maybe even attend an Oscar Wilde-play. Find pure happiness in a pure environment. Why, COVID, why!? (My back-up plan is visiting a panda-infested zoo, so I’ll be alright. The ‘woe me’ is for dramatic purposes only – I’d rather be healthy at home than running free in Ireland, potentially getting sick or making others so.)
Mark my words: I will walk that path behind that waterfall one day! Iceland might be freezing cold (again: what is wrong with me? My feet really don’t like me…), but somehow it’s nested itself comfortably in my heart. I cannot get this country out of my head! Truly everything I saw there was worth going back, and then some. Plus, crazy or not, I’d like to try some of that cured shark…
There are many more places I’d like to go one day. I have yet to visit Oscar’s grave in Paris, for one. Or walk (yes you read that right) the marathon of Médoc. Eat a true Wiener Schnitzel in Vienna and stay overnight at a panda hotel somewhere in China that I once saw featured on TV.
But the five places above… they pull at me the strongest.
And seeing as they’re all pretty costly, I best begin saving up 😉
What places would you like to visit? Let me know in the comments or take on this challenge yourself – let me know if you do! (You can find the original and full challengehere)
“Let us be grateful to people who make us happy: they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom” – Marcel Proust
I have to admit it’s easy to forget about award nominations. Not because I don’t care, rather because I don’t see myself as someone who should receive any.
And that’s not because I think I am horrible – I don’t – but more so because I don’t think my writing is that good. Or better put: I always think there’s room for improvement.
So, to Rez in particular (this post was WAY overdue!) and Kamal as well: I am SO sorry for this late reply to making me a nominee for two wonderful blogging awards ❤ ❤
I’ve thought about the nominations and have read about the awards you want to give me, and I find myself torn between accepting out of gratitude and declining because it’s not me. I am going to do the unimaginable and decline out of gratitude.
First of all: thank you. Thank you for giving me a pat on the back, for liking my writings and for making me feel appreciated and worth it. Thank you thank you thank you from one kind heart to the kind hearts of the two of you. I mean it: thank you!
However, I am going to decline the awards (and any that might follow in the future) for the not-so-simple fact that just the nominations mean so much more to me. I don’t need an actual award to fill the widget-side of my blog or to crown a special page when I’ve got people (re-)visiting my blog, liking and commenting on my writings. The award is an award, however valuable, but you are a living human being I’m connecting with. You’re priceless! And that means more to me in appreciation than any award could ever reflect.
So, again: thank you for thinking of me and nominating me. But ever so more thank you for being a part of my community. It just wouldn’t be the same without you in it 🙂
That goes to everyone who’s been visiting my blog, be it for a day or for the 6+ years I’ve been here. And especially to Rez from Rez Scribblez and Kamal from Kamal’s Blogging Cafe. You have wonderful blogs and deserve more attention from me. You all do.
“My moods are like a roller coaster. It’s hard for me to just feel one way all the time” – Tierra Whack
This week, my To Do List topped: Strangle my gynaecologist.
I am not an aggressive person and I don’t believe in using violence to solve a problem, but I can honestly say that if I had seen that woman sometime during last Monday or the days following, she would have had an incredibly hard time getting away from me without a scratch. Or two.
For those of you who don’t know me (too) well: I’ve been having severe weekly nausea attacks combined with all kinds of physical craziness for the unhappy period of about nine months, ever since I stopped taking the pill. For the full story I suggest you browse older posts as I am done with that chapter of my life.
Anyway, the gynaecologist already mentioned concluded my cries for help with: “it’s definitely not the hormones”, that it was “all in my head” and that I should go and “talk to someone about it.”
Very long story very short: I talked to someone about it. It’s not in my head. And last Monday I found out my physical maladies ARE 100% hormonal!
AND THERE IS A REMEDY!
Thank goodness for Google being brilliant and my low blood pressure being persistent, because the combination of the latter with PMS in the almighty search box gave me what I’ve secretly been craving for nine months: a possible cure.
Vitex agnus castus (monk’s pepper) is a homeopathical supplement that is used to help women balance out their hormones.
Can you imagine how upset I was to learn I’ve been sick more on than off for three quarters of a year while this stuff was out there already, making women like me feel better every day!?
That, basically, I’ve been sick for no reason? That my physical problems could have been prevented?
I fully realise that a homeopathic supplement is a “natural remedy,” which are hardly ever recognised by regular health care. And that even if it works wonders on countless women worldwide, it might not do anything for me, personally.
But I still went and bought two bottles of it right away!
The reason why Monday made me angry enough to want to strangle my gynaecologist is mostly because I was so relieved to find this possible remedy. To me, it was proof that I am not crazy and this is a real thing!
Then the sadness hit me because I started counting back the nine months since I got sick, all which might have been prevented if only I’d known about this sooner…
And I have been really sick. Despite no longer grounding me to my bed or returning weekly, the nausea attacks still creep up on me regularly and drain my energy in total. So yes, sadness for all that’s happened.
But… if Monday was a dark roller-coaster, Tuesday left no doubt in what I felt: happiness, because my package arrived within 24 hours of ordering Monk’s Pepper, and hopefulness that mine, too, will turn into a success story!
To Do List: Strangle my gynaecologist Tackle my hormones once and for all.
What was on your To Do List this week? How did you go about that?