Things I never am: wrong
I text Will a couple of weeks ago asking how remote our remote working was. I knew I needed a change of scenery and the only thing keeping me where I am now is my job, but you know, didn’t want to panic the guy so went in easy.
Within the hour we’d gone full circle and I’d decided to give it a go. Pretty lucky to have someone like that aren’t I, hey?
I often spend time umming and ahhing about whether or not I’m doing the right thing (obviously I am, I never do the wrong thing) and questioning every detail in my stupid life.
I’ve concluded that my life is just one big “why?”.
Why did I do that?
Why didn’t I do that?
Why the absolute hell did I just say that?
It’s one of the only constants in my life. My ability to make poor choices and go for the option which will inevitably be a pile of crap without taking a minute to think it through. I’m really hard on myself and struggle to see when I’ve done something good.
I mean, what’s the point in doing things because you know they are sensible (Kiera stay out of this) and will cause long term happiness? Boring. Let me do the wrong thing, goddamnit.
Earlier when I said I never do the wrong thing, that was a lie. I’d give a solid estimate of 80% being the wrong thing. Sometimes it’s like ah well, never mind, that wasn’t so bad. I’ll just do it right next time.
On the other hand, sometimes I’m sat there thinking “oh shit oh shit oh shit” (like when I deleted our website or when I didn’t get my car serviced for two years and broke down at the bottom of a steep hill) and you know what that is? Tiring.
You know who hasn’t got time to be tired this year? Me.
Got too much stuff to do. I’m busy now. Or at least I’ve decided I’m going to be. Like that time I wrote about people glorifying being busy (here) but instead of calling it out, I’m just going to hop straight on that bandwagon and do a Sean Paul. Get busy.
It’s now t-minus 36 days until I move somewhere new and learn to be an adult on my own.
I’ve never really had to adult alone before, I’ve usually been responsible for adulting someone else, too. Adult doesn’t seem like a real word now, does it? Adult. I’m pretty good at keeping myself alive. Like… I can cook, clean, socialise, work, do things that don’t result in sudden death, but I’ve also always done that for someone else since turning 18. Again – tiring.
The only person I’m now responsible for is myself. And while that’s a wildly disconcerting realisation, it’s also pretty bloody glorious. Plus, by default, that means I get a fresh start. Like ‘new phone who dis’ but in real life and I haven’t got a new phone.
I will absolutely do a whole host of “why?” inducing actions this year. I’m not saying I’ve suddenly stopped being a total idiot and now will never do anything wrong again, because lol, have you met me? I can forget the crap stuff and just focus on the things that are good to me, and they can take precedence.
Like my job (there you go, Will), my friends and most importantly, me.
If you’d have told me a year ago that I’d be in Manchester, I’d have a handful of new, wonderful pals and be living my absolute best one then I’d have laughed in your face. And then I’d have been proper confused and got really stressed.
Funny how things work out, huh? Might start believing in myself. Now there’s a thought…
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