2018: a year in review. part 1.

Today, I realised it is the start of December. Suddenly, the end of the year has crept up and, my, what a year it’s been. It has felt simultaneously like the quickest and the slowest year. At some points, I felt like it had been a year “wasted” as there was no grand hiking or biking adventure. I don’t agree with that now because I can see that even during those seemingly pointless, stagnant moments, life was still happening.

So I decided to write this, very personal, reflection for three reasons:

1. Here, I can make sense of the year, or rather, I can do the very human thing of forcing a randomly occurring series of events into a logical, if somewhat tenuous, pattern. (#destiny #horoscopes #fate).
2. I have decided this is my new end of year tradition. I like the idea of looking back and appreciating the year, learning from it, savoring it, letting go; rather than writing New Years’ Resolutions which can be punishing, where the undertone is “right now, you’re not enough – you need to be thinner, happier, more adventurous, wealthier, kinder, better better better”.
3. I also know that my brain (and brains in general) are programmed to focus on the negative, and they can quite quickly forget the positive. Case in point, my brain has, (unsolicitedly) filed away every insult from 2007. Totally useless, but ask me about the positive comments from that time? Blank. By writing this, I want to start a yearly record to balance out that negativity bias, remembering what I was grateful for that month and what I learnt, so in years to come I can look back on the good, the beautiful (and the bad and the ugly).

So why on earth am I sharing this deeply personal thing with you, dear reader?

Well, I tussled with this question. Mostly because of the opposite reason to number 3. While in our brains there is a negativity bias, on social media there is a positivity bias – everyone’s life looks phenomenal, rainbows and sunshine. I, like pretty much everyone, am guilty of skimming over the shitty on social media because pictures of stress or pyjamas or grief don’t get the likes.

I am sharing it because this is my life. And maybe it is also a little bit your life. Because I think the most breathtaking thing I have learnt this year is that we are very much in this together. We think our stress, trouble, shit, strife is unique to us, and when we are stuck in that solitary confinement, alone with all our suffering it can seem like a Great Big Burden. But when we realise that this stuff is common to the human experience, suddenly that Great Big Burden is not so scary. We share it. The good, the beautiful, the bad and the ugly.

So buckle up for the wild ride of my 2018 as I consider: What happened? What am I grateful for? What have I learnt?

January: Oh I can flush toilet paper again!

While January 2018 started with me in hospital in Colombia, the Major Event was coming home (via Amsterdam in Business class I might add). I am going to skip over the mortifying story of my entry into the country which involved a lengthy stop in customs. Turns out no one likes it when you try to bring a Peruvian machete into the country and a bicycle covered in South American mud. By the grace of God I did not die of embarrassment (and my mother did not murder me there and then in the Arrivals hall).

Let’s look at the positive instead: the first time I stepped outside again on Australian soil. It was 1 am, and we’d just arrived at the hospital directly from the airport. As I staggered out of the ambulance on still unreliable legs, I remember stopping and being overwhelmed by the warm scent of gum trees. I inhaled deeply, my eyes welled. I smelt home.

It is hard to describe. Only after a long absence, do you suddenly become aware of the smell of a place. I think the smell differs for each person but it is imprinted on your brain, you recognise it immediately as home. In that first moment, at 1 am, I relished it. But it is so fleeting, as with familiarity it quickly disappears again. Like trying to grasp a cloud, the smell of home is impossible to hold onto.

For the next little while, everything that was once old, becomes new and exciting– I saw my home, city, country and family with fresh eyes and appreciation.  I spent time with friends who I had missed, and I slept. A lot. Still recovering, in January, I started the long and hard road of rehab.

What I am grateful for:

• My mum coming to Colombia to pick me up and take me home.
• As with most people after arriving home from South America, I was grateful for a plumbing system where you can flush the toilet paper and potable tap water.
• I was ecstatic to have a room to myself, be able to walk around in my undies and have 24/7 access to a fully stocked fridge.

What I learnt:

• Having the hand strength of a five year old means you cannot open your own beers.
• I learnt that I have wonderful friends and family who were willing to open them for me.
• (PSA: always declare your machetes)

 

February: Fuck, this is still going on?

Bored. The frustration really kicked-in in February. The warm glow of renewed novelty of coming home faded. I find joy in drawing and the opportunity to drink wine with friends, but I also glared at photos willing to be back inside them.

I worked very hard in rehab and some days it was wonderfully empowering but time dragged as progress slowed. How come I am not ‘fixed’ by now? I spent a lot of time living in the past because the present was so far from what I wanted or expected of my life. This was, I declared, not part of my plan.

But then my mum takes me on a spontaneous trip to Melbourne. It was wonderful. I treat myself to a bit of luxury:  shoes and clothes that were not designed to hike mountains in! We walked around, ate delicious food and just hung out together. I felt gorgeous and for the first time in a while, not like a person recovering from a strange and rare disease.

Then, very suddenly, our wonderful, beautiful, smart clever puppy dog Dodger died. My heart shatters and is left in a puddle of grief. I physically ache with it, my throat choked. Life trudges.

Time passes and the grief lessens every day, I feel very lucky that I had the time I had with my dog. What did humans do to deserve dogs?

Death is part of life, even though it hurts like a motherfucker.

What I am grateful for:

• My dog.
• My mum.
• Being able to walk.
• Showing off my Spanish to the cute waiter in a hip bar and the Chilean shop assistant who used to go on holiday at a spot along the Siete Lagos route in Argentinian Patagonia.

What I learnt:

• Let out the grief. Feel it. Don’t try and deny it.
• How to draw the mountains that I missed.
• At 25 I can wear a $3 Kmart bra as outerwear and look fine as hell.
• Chunky heels are vogue right now.

March: Time for a distraction!

Three days before the deadline, I decide to (happily) add to my already substantial student debt, and I enrol in the Graduate Certificate of TESOL and Applied Linguistics. My brain had been slowly turning into mush with the amount of daytime tv I’d been watching, and after feeling stuck in a giant rut, this got me excited.

Class was exhilarating. My brain was being challenged again and I got to apply the linguistic knowledge I’d studied in my undergrad in a practical way. It all had a purpose! I met so many new people, many of whom had come from overseas to learn to teach English. We talked and my problems seemed to shrink, I realised how lucky I was to have my support network.

Class was also exhausting. Not only did I have to get my head around ZPD, TBLT, CLT (which all sounded like types of sandwiches), it started at 4pm and finished at 9, two days a week. Still dogged by rampant fatigue, without fail my mum and dad came and picked me up from the city every evening.

Then towards the end of the month, I saw an advert for a job in Italy posted by my old Italian professor on Facebook. I tell my mum about it casually over breakfast, adding that I don’t think I am that interested in applying. Yes, dear reader, I said I wasn’t interested in working in Italy.

She promptly spits out her coffee “WHAT! HOW COULD YOU NOT APPLY!”. I am shaken awake and realise that this is the job I have been hoping for for the last year. Suddenly, I am not just killing time until I recover, I am getting on with my life.

I spend the weekend fervently writing my application.

What I am grateful for:

• My parents whose support has literally been unflagging for the last 26 years.
• My brain which really enjoyed the workout after a 10 month leave of absence.

What I learnt:

• Everyone is struggling as much as you, but in different ways. There are a lot of ducks out there.
• You can always learn something new, don’t let that big ol’ ego cloud that.
• Apply for that job.
• How to make Pom Poms

April: Time Travelling and other miracles

I get hit with bouts of nostalgia so powerful that sometimes I am winded by them. Spiralling back in time, thousands of kilometres away, I am brought to my knees by the beauty, the joy, and the struggle of last year. My mind is caught again and again by these fleeting images. How can my life be so different now? I smile, realising these moments and memories are always with me.

After five months of hospitals and rehab, exercises and exhaustion, I am given the all clear by the physio. I have made a complete recovery. The results of my nerve examination are so good that the neurologist asks to use them in his research paper (only if he cites me, I said!).

Two days later I hear back about the job and find that in September I am moving to Italy, somewhere in the north, in a province I’d never heard of. The promise of adventure thrums again. I am so excited, I tell everyone I meet for the next five months that I am moving to Italy.

What I am grateful for:

• That I got over all my pre-trip jitters and adventured last year.
• My health.
• A JOB IN FREAKING ITALY

What I learnt:

• Even the shittiest times make great memories. You don’t always have to enjoy every minute of an adventure at the time to thoroughly enjoy it retrospectively. There’s no guilt in that.
• There is life after A Big Adventure.
• In fact, there is always another adventure. Look for it, search for it, find it. There is a way.

May: Fuck, I can’t do this!

In May I decided that I was going to pile more onto my plate and, on top of full time studying, I started work: marking postgrad papers in my pjs. I was quickly hit with a pretty serious case of imposter syndrome. I was convinced I was completely ignorant and stupid and incapable. I was in tears, tearing my hair out – surely they will realise their mistake and hire someone who actually knows what they are doing? My self-doubt seemed further evidence to my incapability – someone who merited the job would never doubt themselves.

Still wounded from my thesis, it was difficult for me to give marks, and in particular fail students – I became disillusioned with the system. I was carrying a lot of baggage and was becoming more and more stressed. My self-esteem dipped low and I couldn’t think of one good thing about myself.

What I am grateful for:

• The money, as it paid for my flight to Italy.
• Now, I am grateful for this month because retrospectively it was just the catalyst I needed.

What I learnt:

• Your mental health is not something that you can ‘fix’ and then never have to worry about again.
• Just because you think that you shouldn’t be stressed or anxious, doesn’t mean that you won’t be stressed or anxious.

June: Mum, Dad. I’m a Buddhist now.

So I went and got help. I went to my counsellor and gosh what a difference. Within two weeks I was able to get some perspective on my life (and work) and start dealing with My Shit. I read some great books about self-compassion (check out Kristin Neff and Tara Brach if this rings a bell for you). Turns out, to the wonder of no one, I can be very self-critical. And, surprise, surprise, this only increases stress.

So I researched and read and talked and learnt and talked some more about what I needed to do to maintain my mental health. Maintain it, instead of just letting it brew for a year and then explode.

I started meditating. Everyday. I went for a walk alone in nature, regardless of whether I felt I had time or not. I took nice showers with soothing Latin music and candles. (#treatyourself). I savoured delicious food and wore nice perfume.

And I began to become more self-aware of when I started down into the rabbit hole of stress. I practiced mindfulness and got some space from my thoughts, learning what triggers my stress and anxiety. It wasn’t all smooth sailing and it was a steep learning curve (and as I write this I am still dealing with all My Shit. Dear reader, it doesn’t go away, you just get better at dealing with it).

I felt wonderful, peaceful, and started to understand that smile that those happy Buddhas have.

What I am grateful for:

• I was having a bit of a spiritual awakening and realised everything is a goddamn gift. (Still true)
• For being able to access excellent mental health care.
• For being able to get over my ego and get my ass into a counsellor.
• (And now, to be able to talk openly about it, after feeling shame and embarrassment in the past about something which should be as normal as going to the dentist)

What I learnt:

• A lot.
• Everyone has their own Shit to deal with. You will have to deal with Your Shit at some point in your life. The sooner the better.
• You don’t have to try and deal with Your Shit alone. There are legit whole professions and degrees and everything based on helping you with Your Shit.
• Just because you feel like the only one who has ever needed to see a counsellor, doesn’t make it true. As my counsellor put it “why do you think the rest of the people in the waiting room are here? For the coffee?”

So this wraps up the first six months. It is funny that before writing this I didn’t think that the first part of the year was that interesting (maybe you’d agree!), but reading over what I’ve written I realise that so much happened and I learnt so much. I encourage you, dear reader, to think back on your 2018, what are you grateful for? What have you learnt?

I am still writing and reflecting on the next six months, which come with a large scoop of adventure, and of course in July, I fall in love.