Things we need to talk about, right now.

The last few months have given us so many reasons to unlearn, adjust and learn again. The brain fog has been all too frequent, but it's also been a bona fide lesson on how to fight for what you know is right and for what feels good - real good. Living with intent can be catalyzed by many different experiences - sometimes you're afraid of wasted time (lies, it doesn't exist), settling for a life you won't be proud of in 10 years, or simply watching the world combust without any thought for its noise-free neighbors. Either way, I've been making an extra effort at calibrating my life - the things I do, the people I see, and the way I fill my head. 

I quit my day job.

A few months ago, I was living for the weekend with little to zero appreciation for my Monday's - Friday's. It wasn't because I was devoid of being a hard worker - in fact, the earlier stages of lockdown left me with a deep desire to merge the bedroom with the boardroom -  but more of a realization that I wasn't infatuated with the idea of getting a paycheck that didn't live up to my childhood ideals. What would my 10-year-old inner child say about the fact that she wasn't completely happy? Instead of throwing a tantrum, I decided to challenge myself by quitting my job and ventured into uncertainty, with the assurance of savings and a trip to the homeland to eat my family's groceries. 

Growing older has got me thinking more than ever about my every day's - a lifeline of fun, sparks of madness, a passionate love affair with being a "good human", subsequent childhood trauma, and an ongoing persistence to thrive. It's the moments of doubt that shake me up, force me to reevaluate what I want and where I want to be. Think of it as a midlife existential crisis, only with more hair (thank you, Nioxin) and a unique ability to bend down and get right back up. We're a generation so obsessed with living, so how can we be upset when it offers us an opportunity to do it all over again?

Unsolicited Advice. Who asked you?

We share a lot online. Every little detail of our life is captured through a "bespoke" social media algorithm - newfound relationships, sourdough hacks, questionable haircuts, losses and finds. I do it almost every day. Not because, I have to - but, because I genuinely love connecting with humans through shared experiences. On the backside of this, are wannabe Ricki Lake's, willing and ready to dish out their best advice whether you signed up or not. I put on weight? Try some green tea and apple cider vinegar! I'm single? Your time will come, sweety! I'm having a bad skin day? I have the best DIY face mask for acne! I realise that the majority of people are genuinely trying to be helpful when handing out unwanted advice, but it's honestly unnecessary and condescending. If we're looking for new ways to stage our aerial shots, we'd ask X person, Google or Dr Phil for it. Receiving unsolicited advice can often feel more like criticism to the person receiving it - perhaps, I really love my burgeoning hips or have tried every anti-pimple trick in the book, but my body just operates differently to yours. Humans have a false sense of bravado when dishing out the advice, because our egos trick us into believing that we know better and therefore have a responsibility to help anyone and everyone. But, stop. Ask for consent before advising someone on a new calorie-controlled meal or a refreshed way to find a partner, and leave your ego at the door.

The glamourization of being busy.

Have you ever found yourself binge-watching a series on Netflix, all while doing some 'light' reading, and texting a friend? I often find it so hard to be still; focusing on one thing at a time is an actual chore. Let's not even address the art of selecting an actual movie on Netflix- that's a mind fuck all on its own (30 min minimum, snacks essential). The last few months have been much of a lesson in striving to look busy - we're baking sourdough, putting puzzles together, attending Zoom meetings, reading books on childhood trauma, and putting together company reports. And, it's too much. The world may implode, so we aim to 'live our best lives"- usually with a side serving of anxiety, pressure, and an Instagram filter. There are some days where I feel like conquering the universe and some days where I spend my days in bed, with 90 Day Fiance on repeat. All perfectly valid moments and perfectly valid feelings - no matter the social stigma or side effects. Let's stop glamourising the art of being busy, and start appreciating the fact that our minds and bodies are going through a special kind of collective trauma right now. We recharge almost every object in our lives, and this includes ourselves!

Single at 31, during a global pandemic.

Being single during a global pandemic has been such a life-changer/life-saver for me. At the age of 31, I've found myself unemployed, single, childless, and 100% sure that this was where I was meant to be. I've often been alone, but not truly alone - usually because I was yearning for more, going on questionable dates with questionable humans, and filling my space with the most exquisite form of busy. Lockdown forced me to reevaluate my aloneness; I had no one to fill up the gaps and had to find a new way to immerse myself in the cracks of my conscience. It was awkward and sometimes filled with one-on-one date nights, puzzling frustrations, and solo dances in my living room (Jerusalema, why do you evade me?), but it taught me an invaluable lesson in soaking up my own company. For the first time in a long time, I've finally learned to embrace myself without any apologies. 

Disclosure: No wine bottle was harmed while capturing these thoughts.

Lockdown: A Synopsis

I've always been enthused and amused by the human desire to have one's shit in order. Unfortunately or fortunately, I'm somewhat of a self-help connoisseur - I love looking at the microcosm of my daily life, relating it back to this great big world and unweaving the layers of my very existence. I sound so bloody enthusiastic, but trust me - this is the wine talking.

But, lockdown and COVID-19 has been a whole other type of subversive humour. I love the idea of being completely immersed in the act of self-growth, but I also realise that we're a generation who is fixated with bettering ourselves - we trade in our bad habits for a glass of Kombucha and return it for a slice of "living my best life" pie. Productivity is key to life, but the glorification of being busy is a farce that we need to shed. Sometimes, all your soul really needs is to lay in bed with a bad reality show on repeat, and a drug supply consisting of Jolly Jammers (so underrated), fruit chutney chips (don't judge) and a 9kg weighted blanket (I'm single and it's winter, okay). 

During quarantine, I've had absolute lows and highs. They're as extreme as they come - mornings where I get up giddy with the sheer excitement at the thought of a mental revival and some days where I want to hibernate without a to-do list. The eternal struggle to maintain a personal, professional and social life is not as easy as Chicken Soup for the Soul made it seem. We live in an era where we're encouraged to go further in every aspect of our nonsensical lives - our career goals, dating prospects, catchups with friends and trips to reconnect with the family. Enter COVID-19 and we're faced with the bitter fact that the simple art of sitting solo and doing absolutely nothing is so necessary and so needed.

The first couple weeks of lockdown were met with a child-like enthusiasm for Zoom dates, anxiety-ridden puzzles, kitchen experimentation, and DIY everything! Enter Week 2504? We've forgotten about the online house parties, judge our neighbours for breaking the lockdown rules (before proceeding to "bump into" our friends for a car park mingle), and relish in the cosmic nuances of the unplanned. 

Humans, by our very nature, are social creatures. But, there's something surprisingly satisfying in not jumping from a lunch date to a dinner date. Don't be misunderstood - I absolutely love sharing a laugh and a few plates of tapas with my people - and, lockdown hasn't changed that. The sweet spot has been the rediscovery of relishing my alone time, getting dressed up for myself, and finding a thrill in not being too busy. It's also meant that I've had to set a few boundaries that I often struggle with, because we're too polite and socially conditioned to "be there" whenever we have the capacity to. Zoom fatigue, with its constant gaze and non-verbal cues, can result in overthinking and a constant desire to decode one's messaging framework. And, it's bloody exhausting.

The fact that you're at home most of the time has also meant that it's easier for others to assume that you're always available to be contacted for anything and everything. The reality is that you really don't have to have plans with other humans to be unavailable - I could be watching TV, I could be taking a bath or I could be staring into sweet nothing. Setting boundaries and prioritising your emotional health is unbelievably essential right now, and it's absolutely acceptable if you can only make that Zoom call for 30 minutes. That's more than an episode of Friends, and that's perfectly okay.

Lockdown has also meant that I've experienced more than my normal share of mental triggers. I've unfollowed all the Kardashians (don't judge that it's taken me this long - it was all for Stormi, okay), had to be more vocal about my opinions on weight gain and have had to relinquish control in every sense of the word. We're living through a pandemic and it's led to the realisation that the lives we once lived are long gone. There were so many things that were wrong with those lives, but there was also a lot of good in it too (completely dependent on your view on veganism, monogamy, and a regular fridge defrosting of course). I'm slowly acclimatizing to this new normal via the realisation that lipstick does indeed smudge under a mask, waxing my own moustache for fun and asking my neighbours if they like bread in an attempt to summon a conversation. 

The most important lesson I'm learning is that life is unpredictable and we're living for ourselves and our loved ones. Don't feel pressured to say "yes". Don't feel guilty if you ate a pizza for breakfast. And, most importantly - don't buy cheap wine.

A letter to my mother

10 years of not physically seeing you. 10 years of diffusing your lessons and soaking in your wisdom. 10 years of wondering what life would have been like if circumstances had been different. As I get older, I often wonder what life would have been like if we were sharing a bottle of Cab Sav together right now. Would you be proud of the loudmouthed, wine-drinking, no bullshit-taking soul that you helped carve? Would we be chatting about boys? Would we be stealing clothes from each other?

These are questions that never really go away, but ones that I have grown to make peace with. An undeniable belief that you're always around me. Always remembering that everything I am; is because of you. Don't get me wrong - it's frustrating, it's painful, and it's sometimes a case of feeling sorry for myself. Why don't I have you and why did you have to leave? But, would I be the person I am now if you were still here? Probably not.

In hindsight, you were always teaching me about the concept of unwavering gratitude, through your lust for life and refusal to never hold on to resentment. You truly let go and you let live. You could light up a universe with your dirty jokes and one-winged butterfly cakes. You would pick up strays wherever you went and truly cared about bettering the world through the strongest sense of empathy and enthusiasm for humans.

Long before you left, you would read me excerpts from library books that detailed the purpose of life and the importance of extracting lessons from our singular experiences. It's so strange to think that you were somehow preparing me for life without the physical you. 2020-me has an appetite for life that is built on a pure appreciation for every single moment and person in my life - not based on a fear that they'll leave, but rather on the belief that the seemingly small moments are actually the big ones.

I'll never forget the moment I lost the earthly you and it's something that I have to practice being better at. Cancer is an absolute mind f**k and I have to be forceful with the weaker memories - separating two aspects of one's life and remembering that the boney frame, sunken eyes and dissipating hair are simply the disease. Whenever you needed a pick-me-up, you would ask me to play "Send Me on My Way" by Rusted Root (yes, the Matilda song) on my phone, and I'd see pieces of you pushing through the head bops and the crinkle in your smile. You found peace in the simple and mundane, and it always reminds me that this is what life is about - a constant stream of appreciation and gratitude for the small breaths.

Thank you for being the best possible mother a girl could ever want or need. You were imperfectly perfect - a sublime example of joie de vivre passing through this life, teaching us all how to find love in the cracks. Thank you for choosing me. And, thank you for never truly leaving me.