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If you’ve read Chapter None you’ll be privy to the fact that I’m trying to pay a lot more attention to the signs the Universe is sending me. I might be shit at reading maps but as it turns out, I’m getting pretty good at following directions. I’ll admit this story wasn’t the final destination I had in mind. It’s just the place I ended up.
It’s 10:17pm on a Monday night and I’m due to be released from isolation in a few days (although by the time I post this I’ll be a lot closer to freedom). I’ve had nothing but an endless stream of time available to me and in the silence of these 4 walls I’ve been deeply conscious of what a finite resource that is. So yesterday I reverted to my high school self and spent a lot of it staring out the window thinking about the kind of life I’m currently living and whether or not I’m proud of it. I’m a Scorpio which makes me infamous for deep and analytical thoughts but prolonged silence isn’t always conducive to them being in my best interests. In order to drown out some of the melancholy I put on music that evoked nostalgic memories from my late teens and early twenties. I’m sure that sounds sad and pathetic but it was actually an exercise in recalling my carefree days at Caesars or Chibar or Mercury nightclub where I was young, dumb and full of…rum (I know what you were thinking you dirty little minx). I reflected on everything that had brought me to this point including alllll the dickbags and toxic friends those songs reminded me of and I thought, “That’ll do pig, that’ll do”. Just kidding. I didn’t think that at all but while I’m here can we discuss what a great movie Babe was? Or should I file that under “Things no one ever wants to read about on your blog”?
What I’ve noticed about myself is that life really changed after 30. To be frank, I give less fucks. That could be the result of a lot of professional help #NormaliseTherapy, wise friends, psychology books, life experience, cutting people out of my circle, the teachings of a down to earth and emotionally intelligent boyfriend, special counsel from my parents or lessons learnt from poor decisions made when Mercury was in retrograde. If I had to take a stab in the dark I’d say it was a culmination of all those things plus me finally figuring out that despite my ego convincing me otherwise, I’ve never actually had a clue. Not one single clue about one single thing in my whole entire life. Any pursuit to undertake a new job or a new dress or a new boy was met with questions like “Should I?”, “Is this actually what I want?”, “How would this look if so and so saw me?”, “Is this possible for me?” or “Will people think I’m an idiot?”. As soon as I realised that the key to wisdom lies not in doing what people think you should do but in making shitty decisions, aiming high, taking risks, failing miserably, admitting you’re wrong and learning from your mistakes, I could finally relax. Even if just a little. At 31 I tend to have a few more answers and a lot more questions, but the defining difference is that I’m far more sure of myself now than I have ever been and can only hope that kind of certainty increases with age.
These days when I make a decision to do what I want (even when what I want is stupid) I’m fully aware that I’m making it and I execute it with conviction instead of hesitation. Sometimes it’s climbing onto the roof of my car to break into my best friends house then falling from a height and injuring my neck…my back…my p*ssy and my crack (chill Mum, it’s a song). Other times it’s inhaling tequila shots on a Sunday night because I’ve forgotten what hangovers feel like in your 30’s. Occasionally it’s using regular tampons on day 1 of my period when I know full fucking well I’m going to need supers. If I have a catastrophic vaginal blow out in a white dress because I decided to throw myself under the bus, then that’s on me…and on my dress…and quite possibly all over the chair I’m sitting on.
I wouldn't call any of the above situations profound examples of me 'aiming high' but sometimes a girl just wants to be funny, y'know? The real gem here is that the transformation from who I was before to who I am now is in the knowing, the conviction and the accountability. My decisions belong to me and so too do the consequences, whatever they may be. I don’t get to blame anyone for how I choose to live my life and it’s no one else’s fault if I take a mediocre approach to it. Accepting that has brought me closer to freedom and freedom is where I want to exist.
Ironically freedom is something I’m currently without but reflecting in isolation has led me to give serious consideration to all the decisions I’ve made in my life. What I found was that the moments I was least proud of were the ones where I did what others thought I 'should' instead of what I knew I could. My analysis brought up a number of similar conclusions but the common theme throughout was this: The single question preceding nearly all choices I’ve ever made has always been, “What will people think of me?”. Seriously. Take that in. If you sit there and think about how many decisions we make day to day, month to month, year to year; that adds up to a lot of wasted people pleasing moments. Especially when most of those people are strangers on the internet who will hate you anyway, ‘society’ and its warped expectations or men with tiny brains who won’t acknowledge your existence. Once you’ve digested that I want you to picture me sitting in the same hotel room I’ve been sitting in for 10 days. Hair all dry and brittle from shitty hotel shampoo, no bra, no pants, spaghetti stains on my top, staring into the distance listening to ‘Differences’ by Ginuwine and dealing with the full fucking revelation that a huge portion of my time on Earth has been predicated on what everyone else thinks. Worst of all I had no one to discuss this with except my TV remote, Black Betty. She’s nice and everything but her advice is more miss than hit - “Umm I don’t know J…have you tried turning it off?”. Pull your fucking head in Betty, I’m about to have a conniption.
Somewhere between 29 and 30 I just grew tired of acting like my 10 year old self. I'm not interested in being the girl in class who has all the right answers but never raises her hand. I don't want to be the teenager so acutely aware and extremely assumptive about any sniggers or stares in her direction. I'm sick of disregarding certain feelings or aspirations because other people may think they don't apply to me. I want to be the woman who wears that dress BECAUSE of her fat ass, not despite it. I want to push my friends in the direction of their dreams whilst also following my own. I don't want to be the chick handing out pearls of wisdom from a necklace she herself never wears. I've always been the 'Who gives a shit what people think' friend and somehow, didn't consider that my own advice was the very encouragement I so desperately needed.
For most people reading this I know you’ll be reflecting on your life choices and drawing the same conclusions as me so the bonus is we’re not alone. For those of you who are of the Gary Vaynerchuck persuasion you’ll be feeling sorry for people like us. That’s fine too. If you’re one of the former then I hope this has put the wheels in motion for you to finally change course. Because if you’re under the illusion that caring what other people think has only a minor affect on the trajectory of your life, you couldn’t be more wrong. It quite literally represents the difference between being alive and actually living. I can’t say my 30’s have magically equipped me with some kind of immunity against caring what people think but I can say that subconsciously I’ve been straying from that model of behaviour for a while. I know this because if I was worried about @imabigfatwanker’s opinion on Instagram then Jrunk Talk wouldn’t exist. If I still gave enough of a shit about what people thought then I never would have shared this blog with those of you who read it. This isn’t a side hustle that makes me any money but it’s an outlet that gives me purpose beyond the 9-5. It’s one that connects me with other women who have the same fears and doubts and insecurities. It’s what I’m constantly finding inspiration for in the mundane things I wouldn’t ordinarily notice. It’s that ‘thing’ I was too scared to start and the one that has helped me visualise the REAL possibilities for my future. Not the possibilities I planned on settling for.
Someone recently said to me “I don’t have any aspirations to reach for Mars, I’m happy where I am”. I don’t know about you but I’m a fucking astronaut. Catch me on the moon bitch, how ‘bout dat.
With love, always
J
