Today, I left my house with everything I’ll need on my back for the next six months. Because I’ve had a busy few weeks preparing to leave, I’ve not had time to stop and consider that it’s actually me who is about to embark on this endeavour. As such, I currently can’t figure out how I feel, or I haven’t given myself much time to sit and think.
I’m excited, of course, and nervous. But I think because this is such a dramatic shift, so much is unknown. As a result of this, when trying to consider how I feel, it’s like I’m trying to look through a brick wall. I can only see the distance between me and the wall, but nothing that lies beyond it. Perhaps I’m describing what life is like generally, with us not being able to predict the future, but in trying to make the most of my last few weeks here in the UK, the brick wall has seemingly grown taller and thicker as I’ve not considered what this new, exciting change could mean for me.
There’s a strangeness to embarking on something brand new. I often think of life as a series of chapters. I was a child, dependent on my family. Then I grew up, and more independence came along with this. I left to go to university, and then within a blink, I’d finished university. I took a gap year during COVID, then went back to university. Since then, I’ve thrown myself into my writing, which I love immensely. It brought me a greater understanding of the world, and I’ve learnt so much, which is a huge part of my happiness. If I don’t pursue growth, my mood drops along with it.
There’s a clear representation of the chapters that have been and gone in my life. But, as with all chapters, they eventually come to an end. Certain characters and themes continue into future chapters, like my love for writing, and the people I hold dear, but with the next chapter comes the promise of major change. The environment could change, or the mood of the chapter, or an unexpected event could throw a spanner in the works.
I sit at the end of the current chapter knowing that major change is promised and that a spanner is likely to emerge from somewhere, but I don’t know how to feel about this. I know there’s no demand I feel anything at all, but I have spent much of the last few years seeking to understand myself better. Part of me feels like I’ve taken multiple steps backwards, back to where I was a few years ago. Will I have some epiphany once I throw myself into the next chapter? In this scenario, will I know how I feel as I write the next chapter, or will this confusion remain?
The idea of this brick wall is one I keep returning to. It could be an indication that I need change. This change could be directly related to the trip I’m about to take, but it could well be a metaphor representing the chapters of life. As we stand before these brick walls, we can pull out a chair, and sit comfortably behind the wall, shielded from the uncertainty of a new chapter. Or, we could pick up a sledgehammer, smash the wall to pieces, and see what’s on the next page.
For me if I felt I was facing a brick wall behind me, I would first try to listen and learn with patience and consideration and without judgement and I would try to speak from my own truth but if no change then I would try to identify what feels peaceful and soul nourishing for me and I’d go and spend time there. I love it when looking at art or nature or reading something uplifting or a good conversation helps shift my perspective in a way that feels really positive and helpful for me. I try to stay as far away as I can from snarkiness or various other types of nihilistic energy and I don’t trust everybody because not everyone desires to be or do good in relation to others. But I remind myself that nothing can ever detract from any of our inner worth at the deepest level and that everyone is just doing the best they can at any moment based on their own perceptions and circumstances. What has kept me going (and I’m a lot older than you) is realizing how light will eventually appear when things appear darkest.