Waiting

Picture the scene, much like a poorly acted film. You know that moment when someone is caught out and the big reveal happens? (Anyone else picturing Scooby-doo? Let’s roll with it.) Well, visualise the moment the mask is yanked off the villain and the whole gang are stunned by their real identity and their faces dramatically reflect their thoughts and feelings. Who would have thought? Why did we never suspect…? That transitional moment from resting to stunned is what I currently feel. Without sounding overly dramatic, my eyes have been opened. And much like the mystery machine gang, I’m in both a state of shock and relief.

Last night, as I sat in my room at 2am feeling somewhat overwhelmed and somewhat on the verge of tears, packing my things to once again trek back to Liverpool, it hit me. And I don’t know how I’ve never seen this before. It seemed very simple really. So, in true Charis fashion, I hated myself for not seeing it before. It was as if someone turned on the light in a totally dark room for the first time and there it was, staring me right in the face. Each scrunched up wrinkle on my forehead (I’m only 23 and yes, I am also concerned) and the frown line between my eyes that I’ve inherited from my dad, relaxed softly almost one by one. I sat on the edge of my bed, on the edge of the tearful cliff as this blank expression washed over me and the dots began to join. I could feel myself begin to softly shake my head, left to right, as my body physically responded to my new mental awareness, as if it was pitying my brain for only now seeing the light.

Why was this never a thought that crossed my mind? How have I been so blind to the reality of this?

In the interest of personal accountability and continuing to advocate for positive mental well-being, I think it is important to share my late-night revelation, whether it appears hard hitting or not. As the cliché saying goes, sometimes the truth hurts. And I guess it did hurt me, because it’s going to require A LOT of inner work and I’m not sure if I have the strength for that.

But as I picked different items off the floor and haphazardly and begrudgingly placed them into one of my many bags, my thoughts again took centre stage. That’s the thing that really bothers me with thoughts; they are so spontaneous and for want of a better phrase, they have a mind of their own. There is no control over when I think and when I don’t, as this experienced proved.

I am waiting on something to fix me.

There it is. Mid packing, that little voice in my head blessed me with this fact. I am waiting on something to fix me. Something or someone to fix me. I’m dragging myself through, one day at a time, telling myself that when this happens, then I’ll be ok, when that happens, then I’ll be ok, when I do this, when I move here, when they do this for me, when these things align, then I’ll be ok. When I say “I’ll be ok”, what I mean is that my mental state will plateau and I’d experience minimal emotional turmoil. This revelation has also brought the knowledge that this is not going to happen. My tussle with my mental health is likely to be quite long term which made the little voice in my head whisper, “Charis, you really need to get this straightened out” and by that I mean, I need to devise methods of coping that actually work for me. Easier said than done, right?

I think I felt so triggered and so alert to this thought of waiting because it’s true. And I can’t run from that. I’m waiting until I move home for my mental health to level out and for me to feel satisfied. I’m waiting on my boyfriend being in the same city as me to feel content. I’m waiting until I have a permanent job in Northern Ireland for me to be happy. I’m waiting to be married to finally feel complete. I’m waiting for a family to finally feel successful.

And there are three major problems with this.

Firstly, there is no end. I am continuously feeling overwhelmed and somewhat out of control, and subsequently placing my sanity, inner peace and happiness on the next major milestone in my timeline. Even typing that makes me feel like some sort of emotional wreck with very minimal ability to be self-reliant. Yikes.

What puzzles me is that I have first-hand experience of this “chasing” concept falling flat on its face every time and yet, I still participate.

When I was in school: “I just need to pass my GCSEs and then I’ll be ok.”

When I passed my test: “I just need my own car and then I’ll be ok.”

When I was at Uni: “I just need to qualify as a teacher and then I’ll be ok.”

When I was single: “I just need to meet someone and then I’ll be ok.”

When I started teaching: “I just need to do one year and then I’ll be ok.”

All past examples of real thoughts I have had that were supposed to “fix me” upon their achievement. Yet here I was, 2am, verge of a breakdown (maybe this was the breakdown, I don’t really know), still holding out for someone or something to fix me.

For context, I think this thought process found its way because my initial idea was that I’m not happy. This then moved to, ok what will make me happy? Which I concluded as being; moving home, a job at home, my boyfriend at home, just everything about home (I THINK I might just POSSIBLY, MAYBE be a home bird…). But the thing with this is, none of this is instant or short term. It’s big moves, big changes and big (unfair) expectations of other people, mainly my boyfriend, to move home which would make me happy but may not be what he actually wants. Which brought me to where we are now. Sitting with the realisation that I am always waiting for something or someone to fix me.

Ready for alarm bell two? This means I am always, always, always putting my happiness in the hands of someone or something else. Now, my boyfriend always reminds me, “Happiness is a project, not a destination,” and I have to say I do agree. But by living the way I have been, I’m that really annoying person in the group project that just sits back and lets everyone else crack on, but still takes credit. I’m waiting on everyone else painting me a nice picture and creating me a nice life. A, “here’s one I made earlier…”, Art Attack type moment. So, whose life am I really living? Am I really living? Does a 9 – 5 in a city you don’t really want to be in, constitute as “living”? I think the fact I automatically put that word in quotations would imply that it’s not.

There are a handful of people within the Instagram world that have really inspired me lately to go after what I want, to stop settling for where I’m at if it’s not really what I want, and to know that just because I’m trained as a teacher, it doesn’t mean it’s all I can and should do. A job is exactly that, a job. It’s a means to an end, it keeps the world spinning. Don’t get me wrong, there are things I absolutely adore about my job and would find difficult to give up, but there are also things I absolute despise about my job. I suppose it’s all part and parcel. But I’m learning to view my life as more than my job. Part of me thinks that’s the downfall of the generation above me as my generation grew up. The question was always, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” It’s always been about following the generic timeline, getting a good job and settling down. But what if I don’t want to follow the generic timeline of life? What if I don’t want to be shoehorned into one career for the rest of my life because that is what my university certificate says? By now you probably realise there is big turmoil in me at the moment over my future; where I want to be and what I want to be, but what this revelation has brought me is the chance to take hold of the reins of my life again and to choose for myself; no longer waiting to be fixed.

Talking about “waiting to be fixed” and typing this here makes it seem like insanity. But living it out made it seem like hope. The third problem here is that I think “waiting to be fixed” disguised itself as hope. I try to be a very hopeful person. I am hopeful for the future. I believe the best is yet to come. Without hope, I am nothing because I lack purpose. But the point to make here is that I need to become wise to what is being hopeful and what is aimlessly waiting. For example, it is hopeful to picture a future at home and work towards making that a reality but it is aimless to let the thought be nothing more than a thought. I can’t control what doors will open for me, but what I can do is push the doors. I believe there is a plan for each of our lives, but I also believe that we need to meet our creator half way and trust by taking steps of faith into the unknown. I work, I invest in other people, I’m trying to better my mental health, but it’s all from my irresistible comfort zone. I will never grow, develop or change without any movement outside of it. And that’s exactly what I have been doing. Sitting patiently, waiting on my hopes and dreams knocking at the door; brought to me on a silver platter by everyone around me. It isn’t realistic. So, there’s lesson three; establish a difference between hope and aimless ideas.

If this has resonated with you and you think it is something you also need to work on, here are some questions to help ground you to the present moment and to help you reflect on what I’ve said here.

1. What do you currently have around you that brings you joy?

2. What are you working towards achieving?

3. Are you actively working towards something you are hopeful for or simply pondering an aimless agenda?

Upon my own reflection of this statement, “waiting on something or someone to fix me,” I’ve found myself clarifying the meaning around the term, “fix me”. I am very hard on myself. It’s factual. I hear it very frequently from other people. I don’t know why, but I have the perspective that I don’t deserve nice things or good people in my life. Perhaps that’s why my subconscious has deemed me as needing “fixed.” It’s no secret I struggle with my mental health. Everyday can feel like an uphill climb and I think perhaps the terminology of “fixing” stems from that lack of self-confidence. I don’t think anyone needs “fixed”, but maybe just that they uplifted. So, as I wrap up here, it’s maybe fair to say that I haven’t been waiting on something or someone to fix me, but for something or someone to uplift me. It still indicates a perhaps unhealthy reliance, but it’s crazy how one word changes the picture and makes me breathe that little bit easier.

Over the past few years, I have found myself transitioning from operating through life in years and months to moving through stages. I don’t view stages as having a specific, consistent time frame, but they come and go as life lessons. The end of a “stage” is always when I have learned something. Then a new “stage” begins. In writing this, I feel as though this is a stage coming to an end. Now I’m ready to begin a new stage with the new knowledge of ownership and being actively hopeful. Staging always feels like it has a nice, natural flow to it. I move in time with my life lessons which paints an ocean scene in my mind of water ebbing and flowing. Maybe staging is something you could try, particularly if you struggle with the societal timeline of life. Let your life lessons guide you while you move away from the waiting and engage with purpose.

All my love,

Charis x