If my life had turned out the way I had planned, right now I would be sitting on a beach in Okinawa, watching the sunset, reflecting on my life with my hypothetical children Sakura and Midori.
By this point, I would have climbed Mount Fuji and watched the sun rise from the summit, and had many adventures I could look back over. Well, if you’ve got a fantasy, you can’t be half-assed over it. In this scenario, I have perfect vision and gravity defying breasts too.
Instead, I’m in Middlesex, living not the “life less ordinary,” but the life I never wanted.
Until this point, I have never been honest but now I am going to be, and I don’t care about the consequences. I’m stressed and hate what my life’s turned into. Because sometimes I feel so trapped.
How the hell, do you break free from this trap?
Welcome to the working class Mantra. “You have a job, so it doesn’t matter if your happy or not. You have a job”. I read once that class system was tied into Protestantism. In the Church of England, if you have a job and work hard, you’ll go to heaven.
So if I don’t have a job, I’ll go to hell?
Well, some days I feel like I’m at my destination
We say within my class “As long as you’re working,” yeah as long as you sit there with a degree doing as working class job. Because you wanted to better yourself, and often wonder if the Master’s you had to defer is going to help after it’s over. The Heavens will open, red carpets will unfold, blessing from the Pope and all that
In this blog, I’ve discussed self-publishing, life in general and oh yeah learning to walk again.
I’ve never once said what I do for a living (no, I am not a spy) Just that I have a job, one which I’ve held for ten years and one which caused me to reflect on my life and go back to university.
I still can’t believe I did that some days
The moment you have an epiphany, which doesn’t give you the answers. The only thing I did know was the phrase “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
Incidentally, this isn’t a comment about where I work. Most days I love my job, I am lucky to work alongside many awesome people. It’s just that I look into my future and do not want it to be my future. There is an excellent reason for this, which I will get into in a later post
Typical story, dissatisfied with life so makes the change and goes exploring. Oh sorry, you need a budget for that. Middle class vs. working class dreams and all that.
On thing I learned early, pursuing goals is for the rich folk! Just google “Follow your Bliss,” and you come up with some Eat Pray Love Bullshit, in which a fantastic holiday of having an orgasm over pasta in Italy, whine like an annoying bitch in India and then fall in love…and then fall in love with someone else.
I saw the film, felt nothing for Liz and her insipid whining about needing a “champion” and feeling so hard done by and “Oh my publisher paid for this, so I have to write about something. Let me inspire you” rhetoric.
I am sick of the stories about how someone “Quit the daily grind, and now works in India in an Ashram, and has a beautiful house…and now buy my bestselling book”. because it’s easy to find enlightenment when you don’t have to worry about the bills
Then again, if you google anything relating to stress or health issues. You get bullet points and some asshole plugging their book. “Yes, I can help you beat stress for $19.99, plus Tax.”
Everyone is trying to force their own path on someone.
Strange the path led me to university. Well, back to university but then I had to fit it around working four days a week.
I am at University for two days a week, there is the writing, there is the reading, there is the critiquing. The latter I did on the X26 to Kingston because time was not my hands.
I had to write, come out of my comfort zone and experiment with new styles of writing, read a lot of textbooks, write some more, critique other people’s work. Feel upset that my work wasn’t good enough, suck it up and remember why I was doing it (even though I didn’t have a clue some days). Navigate the world of the mature student. Produce more work, produce more work. Feel good that I passed my first term, be upset because I knew I could have got a better grade if a had more time. Rinse and repeat for the second term.
In six months I only had one day off a week
Eventually, something had to give, and that something was my sanity.
Stressed, exhausted, burned out and I know I wasn’t producing good enough work because I wasn’t producing anything, which wasn’t gibberish.
If I was pretentious, I could say, “My muse had abandoned me, my creativity was lost like tears in the rain. My creative well had dried up, or my Inner Goddess was sitting forlornly with a pen in her hand and an empty notebook in the other.”
Thank God, I am not pretentious.
In April when my tutor suggested that I defer and start back again in January 2017 to give myself a break, in truth I didn’t want to. I wanted to get this done and get my degree, but I needed to defer and take a break and remember how much fun I found writing.
It has taken me six months to get to the point I can write again. Other stuff got in the way. But I’m writing again, and it’s fun, no matter what I’m writing. To quote my tutor, “I owe my own words again.”
However, ending the post on a cliff hanger. One of the reasons I’m doing this.
Is because the day my dad found that all they could do was keep him “comfortable,” he said to me
“Get out of that job, Jodie. You’re a fucking jobsworth.”
He was wrong about the “jobsworth” bit, but not about the rest.