On Discomfort & Growth

Hey y’all.

It’s been a minute. Let’s have a chat…

You may have noticed that the podcast and website have been rather quiet lately–and that’s for good reason. So much has gone on. It’s hard to know where to start this story, but I suppose we must start where all stories do: the beginning.

Part One: The Pandemic (aka the panorama of the panini-inducing pandemonium…)

I think I speak for us all when I say nothing has been quite the same since the fall of 2019, into the early winter of 2020. It seems a far cry to think that it was merely two years ago that we all were faced with the instability of Covid-19, and now we’re back staring at the gaping maw of the uncertainty of the future. Almost everyone I know has either completely changed their lives (myself included) or has settled more into the path their life was already on–carving their footprints deeper and deeper into the dash in between the two dates on their gravestone.

In the time of the pandemic I did a lot to distract myself. At the end of the day, you have to analyze whether distraction (even if it’s productive) is always positive. We tend to view things in extremes, if it’s good then that’s simply all it is. The same rings true for the bad within our lives. We neglect nuance and are led to believe that it can’t possibly be a mix of the two. This can be said of social media, of movies, and of the way we portray and build out our lives. We are so focused on the absolutes and maintaining them, that we neglect to see that they rest on the foundation of subtly.

For example, when I chose to voluntarily be let go from my job so a coworker could maintain his position–I took that as impetus to start doing things to an extreme level as we weren’t allowed to do much of anything. It became about trying to control the things I could, whilst acknowledging (yet distancing myself from) the things I couldn’t. I found and obtained a job in China. I started to learn Chinese and Japanese, and obtained my TEFL. I started this podcast, tackled mental health head-on, and continued to bake privately for weddings, birthdays, and small gatherings throughout the height of restrictions. Throughout it all, I was praised for creating–for doing and celebrating the things that are seemingly worthwhile in life. However, I was lower than ever. (Isn’t that how that goes?)

A melancholic burnout had settled within my being, and I found that nothing had purpose. I was doing things for the sake of doing them–not for the simple enjoyment of adding to the world. Of mere existence. I can look back on it now and see how unhealthy it was, but in the moment it felt perfectly “normal” to try and hang onto whatever control I had over my life. The pandemic aside, everything was crumbling. What little connection my family had with one another frayed and tattered at the seams more quickly than my great nan’s quilt–which, if you could’ve seen it, dear reader, you would know just what a feat that is. I was scrambling trying to figure out what was next in order to hold onto some semblance of being human.

Beyond the podcast and baking, that came in the form of teaching English and moving abroad to Asia where I could simply start anew. Tabula rasa. As time went on, this option wasn’t viable as borders remained closed. When the company in Asia I had a contract under kept pushing back my start date without any inkling of actually bringing me over to China, I decided to terminate my contract on my own terms and to pursue something else–a masters degree. I did this in five months. A full masters. I was doing about a course a week and still maintained all A’s. Additionally, I also got into the honors program and received two scholarships. All-in-all by society’s standards I was thriving. However, I was merely doing things that I could control with a tight grip. As a note… Not recommended, by the way. Accomplishment is nice and all, but just let it all go. Live with intention, not with militaristic disdain.

Meanwhile, within the chaos of my brain producing no serotonin and only working long enough to focus on balance sheets and conscious capitalism (ha), my family members had all become ghostly representations of who they once were. My mum was enwrapped with work and trying to survive; my sister had a psychotic breakdown and left; and I was battling depression whilst feeling utterly alone in the world. I knew this was ridiculous as I had friends, I had connections, and I had meaningful relationships with others, but that’s the thing about mental illness–it needs you to believe you’re alone otherwise it cannot consume you. It is in the business of consumption, and you are merely a host to the parasitic and intrusive thoughts that take up mental real estate. This is where therapy and CBT practices are incredibly useful (if you have the ability to go to therapy, do. Just go.) but when you’re so low, it can take a lot to start to implement them into your everyday life again. Before I knew it I was looking for an out, for a way to both have and lose control. This came in the form of a cycle of self-indulgence and restriction, of both learning to love and loathe myself simultaneously. To see the nuance and not quite embrace it, but to pat it on the head and say “I see you and acknowledge you, but you are not me. You are other.”

This distance helped in the beginning to gain clarity, but I need to reiterate that the first steps were not healthy. A lot of people equate movement and progress with growth but doing those things merely for the sake of doing them versus the intentionality behind the actions is what leads to dissatisfaction and an ache of bittersweet loss of self. Akin to trying to use a compass when over the southern hemisphere, there is only misdirection and journeys gone awry. The movement made was on shaky grounds, and I lost my footing quite a lot. It led to a deeper level of self-awareness and pointed to where a lot of my weaknesses lied.

Part Two: Regaining Control by Losing it

So, what does that look like? That journey from unhealthy thinking to having a “healthy” mindset and trying to maintain it throughout life… It looks a lot like trying. Without fear of failing. I have never been afraid of much, and I think it stems from having such a tumultuous upbringing mixed with an innate curiosity about the world. And so I started to apply this way of thinking to my everyday life. What if it was just an experiment? The outcome of an experiment is neither good nor bad, it simply is. Once a scientist has the results, they use this to measure and change the outcome of their next endeavor. And so, I did the same with my thoughts. I started to challenge them–to try and separate what was and was not distinctly me. I let go of control. I stopped restricting my thoughts and actions and simply let them be. I do want to stress as well, that this is only possible if you are the sole one affected by your actions. It is different to attempt this if your actions directly affect another.

Additionally, this brings up another aspect of losing control and accepting change–allowing others to enter into your life. It is scary to give someone permission to be there for you (in whatever capacity that may be) as we base our interactions on our history of people. Of being let down. Of knowing that inevitably people will fail and when they do, it gives us cause to be cautious and to say '“Aha! I shan’t be doing that again, if only to protect myself from the inevitable fallout.” However, by doing this, you are robbing other people the opportunity to actively show up and be present in your life. Yes, we will all fail, but it is worth it to build connection and to find meaning within the human condition. Once you start believing that all people (including you, dear reader) are intrinsically valuable you start to find that letting people in becomes a bit easier. You relinquish control over the expectations of others, and merely accept them as they are–for how they can and cannot be a part of your life and come to know the multifaceted nature of the relationships we have with one another.

I’ll be candid, I’m still working on this one daily and it is a cause of my anxiety, but I know this about myself and it’s a weak point that I am mindful of. It’s often how I self-sabotage friendships and relationships as well. That is the part I’m working on, not sabotaging things from the get-go when I realize I have expectations, and instead trying to let them fade. I know I can be a lot and have to try and navigate that with grace as well.

Losing control has been something I’ve been becoming more acquainted with over the most recent month. Since December I moved my mum, dog, and whole house across the country. Sold her house and helped to sell her possessions. Found an apartment for her to live in, helped her to transition to a new start and then… I left for a new country. Talk about loss of control. I faced an anxiety I hadn’t known since I was in school. I am still mildly anxious after a week in. Not knowing anyone, figuring out how to order, pay, and be within a new place is difficult. I’ve found myself an observer of life rather than a participant because I’ve not yet settled in. There are incredible people here–for whom I am beyond grateful to have met–but I am still trying to overcome the sabotage. The innate voice internally that claims "You do not belong.” Deep inside, I think it is most troubling because it’s right. I don’t belong. However, no one does. And so I am on a path of losing control again. Of being lost in a new culture, of being wrong, of not knowing how to do things like properly drink a pint (iykyk).

I am terrified for the first time in my life, but I’m continuing onward. Not doing things for the sake of doing them, but actually living life. Taking walks, feeling the history set in stone beneath my feet, and seeing way too many seagulls. (Their cries haunt me in my sleep.) Speaking to strangers and genuinely asking about their day, and embracing feeling odd. I am doing things now with intentionality, or trying to rather, and am finding that though it’s difficult it’s worthwhile.

Part Three: The Final Bits & Bobs

Look, I don’t know what’s next–in life, in mental health, in friendships, in relationships. However, I’m not letting it stop me from trying. From endeavoring to go out and to connect in some way with the world. It doesn’t need to be through media or through any digital means, but to simply exist and be is enough. This is something I remind myself of each morning and afternoon. I often go back to my flat in the middle of the day after a morning spent walking about Dublin, and I have to audibly tell myself to continue. To press on. Otherwise I’d stay inside and not experience life outside, where meaning and connection lie. All I can do is to continue onward with intentionality and care for others and hope that in some small way I will continue to move onward and to be able to add to the surrounding environment. Whether that’s in buying someone a coffee, listening to how their day was and genuinely asking questions, or in just smiling at a stranger–the world is too dark a place to wallow within my own mental confines. The more I press against them, the more I find I break through the surrounding shadows of the spaces I occupy. And that, is why I now intentionally march onward. It is slow, it is difficult, and it is the anthesis of comfort, but it is far from stagnant. It is rich and deep with understanding that throughout it all we exist in this time together and are valuable despite and because of it all.