.SOMETIMES RAW.

Pssssst. Hey you! It is me: Afternoon Walk. As you may have noticed, you are turning to me an awful lot these days. Don’t get me wrong, I love what we have together, but I think we need to face the truth: I can never be everything you want me to be.

When this little routine first started (lockdown 1), I thought it was the greatest thing in the world. I was an escape. I was an adventure. I was beloved. But somewhere along the way, I became your EVERYTHING. Now, I am both: your leisure activity and your only form of exercise. I am the last thing tethering you to reality, yet your only way of escaping. I am the singular effort you make to maintain your sanity, and your sole means of experiencing joy, hope, and happiness. It feels as if I am your lover, friend, and therapist all wrapped into one and, frankly, it is making me uncomfortable.

Personally, I think I have held up my end of the deal quite well. I am there every time you need me. I am literally always an option. I don’t know if you know this, but you can even have me at other times of the day. For example, have you tried the morning?

Perhaps, instead of rolling up to your email inbox in a sleepy, hurried rage, you could first project your hopes and dreams onto a morning walk listening to the birds? I hear morning walks are a great way to extend the bliss of forgetfulness you experience in the first few moments of waking up and delay the vague, gnawing sense of impending doom before you go to work.

But let’s get back to the root of the problem here. I am but a simple afternoon walk. You are a human person with complex feelings and emotions like happiness, anger, fear and boredom. And you want us both to believe that I can address these things with magical powers?

I will let you in on a little secret: I have no magical powers. I never have. This isn’t an imposter syndrome thing either, so don’t even start with the, “Oh, come on, everyone knows how magical and talented you are!” I am telling you right now, for real, I have no magical powers.

I have gotta say it feels like even the things I can do for you are not enough anymore. How quickly you seem to have forgotten that I actually am a stress reliever and an energy booster. I shoot endorphins through your brain like a confetti cannon, for crying out loud. Do not even get me started on the way I fight off heart disease. But you never think about that anymore, do you?

Anyway, forget it. I know you don’t want to talk about heart disease because one of your co-worker just had one. I know things are hard right now. Really, I get it. But might I remind you that no one ever said, “You know what could eradicate coronavirus, convince national leaders that everyone deserves a livable wage regardless of the kind of work they are doing, and provide a rush of endorphins? A short afternoon walk.”

So please, for the love of God, I am gonna need you to develop just one or even two other coping mechanisms. Like eating. Then maybe, just maybe, we can actually enjoy each other’s company again on our way to a restaurant where you have to test yourself “in”, sit two meters apart from your friends unless you are sharing the same household, be home at 8 pm, wear a mask but are able to remove it to insert food but put it right back on when you laugh. Oh, I forgot, laughing is not allowed at all because of the tiny droplets. “Can I at least bring my dog,” you may ask. Be aware that two squirrels have been tested positive yesterday.

You are welcome.

I learned yesterday the difference between three forms of actions: actions to fix, actions to win, and actions to learn. The former two are kind of the same thing in my opinion — you listen to have ammunition to make a case to be listened to. When you listen to learn I think it means your personal agenda is less relevant. In my opinion, it should be always “listen to learn” and a more humble pursuit. Oh, I deleted my Facebook account. People who want to get in touch will know how to.

All this aside: There was this plan. Then life had other ideas. I never felt comfortable with too much change at once. I cling to my routines, always wanting to be sure of what comes next. I do not resist risk wholeheartedly but I am careful. I guess it is not surprising that my choices fall safely within my comfort zone and my life unfolds as predictable as I can plan it.

But it wasn’t always like that. In fact, there were times in my life when I said yes to everything even though it felt weird and wrong. And surely enough, slowly everything fell apart, seemingly out of nowhere (didn’t pay attention to the signs), and all at once, I found myself with a broken marriage, and no job. It felt like a heavy rock had dropped right on top of my chest and left me gasping for air. I tried to ignore what was happening and pretended that nothing was wrong, but this was impossible. Then I became desperate to figure out how to fix everything, but I didn’t even know where to start. So I wrote, and writing became my coping mechanism. I started to find a sense of self as well as a sense of humor about life; with time, my persistance to change softened. I began to examine my feelings of discomfort, feelings I hadn’t been willing to look at before. In doing so, I discovered that I was able to handle difficult emotions and didn’t need to push them away anymore. Being open, no matter how uncomfortable that might be, has allowed me to grow and made my life richer and more complete.

I used to have a plan. Then this pandemic happened. Now I don’t, not really, anyway. My life may be messier than it used to be, but I have never been clearer and happier about who I am and what I want to create. This article goes out to everyone who feels they have been turned upside down and are trying to find the right way up again. I hope, this offers you comfort. Please remember, this being human business is hard work.

• Take a break. Breathe and say: hello world, I will be right back.
• Keep in mind: Everything can change in an instant.
• Just lie down for a little while. Look at the ceiling and not your phone.
• Sometimes things have to fall apart so they can fall together.
• Dear pain, thank you for stopping me dead in my tracks and showing me what is really important. It has been educational, but you can go now. Sincerely, me.
• The painful times, the ones we think will bury us are often the exact ones that open us up.
• Some days are harder than others and it is okay that you are not okay.
• You are allowed to take your time.
• It is okay to check out for a while, just remember to check back in.
• Don’t make permanent decisions based on temporary feelings.
• Like the moon, we go through phases of being full and we go through phases of being hidden.

But how to stay positive when all you want to do is be negative?

• Start with one small positive thought.
• Some of our greatest battles are with ourselves.
• Ask more questions.
• You don’t have to figure it all out at once.
• Sometimes just need to sit still and breathe.
• Know that this too shall pass.
• The only way out is through. And this is the part where you find out who you are.
• Start over again. Start over again. Start over again. Keep it up.
• Surrender. Get out of your own way. Seriously, move.
• Unpack your feelings. If it comes let it. If it goes let it.
• Let go to realize there was nothing there to hold on to.
• Grow through what you go through.
• On the other side of fear is freedom.
• Roll with the punches. But don’t forget to fly.
• Remember, life changes.
• Respect where you are. It is not all bad.
• Stay hopeful. Hope helps and eventually, everything connects.

I have no idea where I am going, but I am on my way.

Stay happy. Stay sane.

The older we get, the more baggage we carry. When I dated at twenty-five, I walked into the bar with a very neat, light carry-on. Inside you might find a couple of ex-boyfriends, a mild Oedipal complex or maybe even a slight fear of commitment. When I dated from thirty onwards, it is just natural to meet someone with a 250 kg of backpack absolutely brimming with history and children and houses that half belong to an ex; and dying parents and years of therapy and problems with addiction and jobs that take up all of their time and ex-partners they still have to see once a week because of a custody-battle. It can be daunting, serious, intense, grown-up and not very fun.

The older I get, the more baggage I carry, but the more honest, open and vulnerable I allow myself to be. In 2019, after my divorce, I officially declared it nearly impossible to meet a romantic partner in real life. But I also did not want to. Accepting this is crucial in realising I am not unapproachable or undesirable or doing anything wrong. I can acknowledge my bad patterns of behaviour in relationships. I can analyse how they developed. I can do the work to make sure I never behave like that again. But that is all I will ever be able to control. I cannot predict (or at least not all the time) how another person is going to behave in a relationship. I can risk-assess, I can be cautious, I can make sensible decisions about who I choose to trust and invite into my life and heart. But I cannot manage the unruly variable of another living, breathing being. To choose to love is to take a risk. Always. That’s why it is called falling in love. Head over heels sometimes.

It is so, so hard not to feel betrayal and let be put down by love and turn that into nihilism, scepticism or anger. But cynicism, while funny and self-protecting, is very easy. Finding trust, sustaining hope – that is the real artform. One of the hardest things about getting older and being in love is knowing when something is just reality and when it is too much hard work. Identifying what the quiet, joyful but often challenging sensation of long-time love is and identifying what’s just become a pain in the arse, is where I have to rally sharpen my instincts. After the divorce I promised myself to free up some space in my mind and schedule and see what life is like without being in a relationship. Being single and all the changes I have been through (moving to another country to name just one) made being single feel so peaceful, the thought of returning to the land of the loving started to feel impossible. Later, I realized that only shared interests are one of the most misguided considering factors when choosing a partner. Deciding that someone is a good person, or my soulmate, or made of exactly the same stuff as I simply because my partner and I both love to listen to Bob Dylan is ridiculous. Enjoying reading books and collecting them will not help me to weather the various unexpected storms of life together.

To me, a much underrated and incredibly simple considering factor when it comes to choosing a partner is how much love he can give. Since many of my friends are still with their partners and have at least one child, I have watched how they operate as couples. It became even more apparent the importance on how well we work as a team. I need to be really good friends with my partner to begin with. I am not wise when it comes to relationships but I believe I am never immune to romance. And lust is a silent disco. It allows me to dance and get lost in a song no one else can hear if I choose to. I try not to judge other people’s relationships and the way they conduct them. To each its own. Longterm romantic love is a feat. People should do it in the exact way that works for them, even if it doesn’t make sense to others on the outside.

Love should be about aligning my life with another person, not a place of make-believe. It should be a person I can escape to. Where I always feel good, am the star of the show and unquestioningly adored while giving all this back to my partner.

An old pro/con list of reason to have a partner. I found it in my online diary. Too funny.

Reasons to a have a partner:

• More likely to get a proper birthday cake
• Access to Amazon Prime
• Something to talk about
• Someone to speak to in the evening
• Sunday afternoons cuddles on the couch
• More sympathy when you do something really wrong at work
• Someone who touches my butt in the queue for anything
• Holidays together
• Reading together
• Sometimes I cannot manage a whole large pizza to myself
• Might have a car
• Might own an apartment/house
• Might have money so when there will be a huge wedding at a castle, all my female friends who will be invited can wear fancy hats
• Nice to make sandwiches or cook for someone other than myself
• Nice to think about someone other than yourself
• Regular sex isn’t that weird
• Warmer bed and cuddles
• Everyone else seems to have a partner, too
• If I have one, people will think I am lovable
• If I don’t have one, people will think I am shallow and dysfunctional
• The relief of not having to flirt with people
• Fear of dying alone, the void etc.
• Feeling whole with the right partner

Reasons not to have a partner:

• More laundry
• Debates/arguments
• They probably won’t like nightly mask-and nail polish rituals
• They definitely won’t like Dirty Dancing because they cannot dance like Johnny
• They might be in love with your dishwasher that you never use
• They might be cleaning freaks
• They might turn out as hoarders and collectors of weird stuff
• They might have crazy ideas like purchasing forty typewriters to then later sell but your apartment will turn into a storage unit
• They might leave tea bags all over the apartment
• Being told what you did the night before when you were drunk
• Having to watch any life or television sports

So, when you are looking for love and it seems like you might not ever find it, remember you probably have access to an abundance of it already, maybe just not the romantic kind. This kind of love might not kiss you in the rain or propose marriage. But it will listen to you, inspire and restore you. It will hold you when you cry, celebrate when you are happy and sing with you when you are drunk. You have so much to gain and learn from this kind of love. You can carry it with you for ever. Keep it as close to you as you can. And whenever your gut tells you, he is the one, hold on to this person and float away together.