Melbourne, we must keep living life on our terms.
“What on earth is he doing?” I thought, slightly confused by the thunderous noise in my study ceiling.
It sounded as though a pair of 5 year old feet had flat footed, full force on the floor after catapulting themselves off my bed.
My beautifully made bed, with two piles of freshly folded clothes, neatly stacked, awaiting to be tucked away into their housing drawer.
“Christ on a freight train.” I huffed, pouncing out of my swivel chair, inhaling deeply in preparation to inflict my “mum voice” with full effect.
Then I froze. Mid-flight.
Suddenly I remembered, my 5 year old is now 15 and unless something is seriously awry, he is in a comatosed slumber until at least 11am.
The imaginary thunder rolled again. Louder this time, like a ferocious roar. It was as though the earth was relieving years of mounting pressure through its pores. The blinds rattled, free standing objects danced across the shelves and mounted pictures desperately tried to grip the shaking walls behind them.
Bolting up the stairs two at a time, I fled to my son’s room at the back of the house. Away from the crumbly 19th century bricks walls on the façade. There he was, bolt upright in bed. His startled eyes wide with confusion, trying to make sense of whatever the heck Melbourne was delivering that day.
I’ve always described the glitzy Las Vegas strip to first timers as sensory overload. I’m sorry Melbourne this is, well, I don’t even have words for it. And it’s not often I’m lost for words.
Always one to throw myself into the white-water rapids of life, I’m happy to do so, when it’s on my terms.
Today it seems, there is very little that is on our terms.
You just don’t know what Tough Mudder course the world is going to dish up. I thought I was prepared with WIFI boosters, a surplus of active wear and subscriptions to every streaming service I could find. But now you’re telling me that’s not enough? Give me a bloody break!
No, today I’ve had to prepare my eye balls for the onslaught of “what to do in an earthquake” tips and decide how to manage the expectations of a kiddo who’s already had the rug pulled out from beneath his feet for the better part of 2021.
And then there’s the noise. Living in metro Melbourne, the rickety whir of helicopters circle overhead. Not for a 15 minute traffic report during peak hour. At the moment they circle all day. They are like great white sharks amongst the clouds, prowling for a high vis crisis to hone in on and a newsworthy riot story to devour. Because they think that is what we want.
Well I’m here to tell you I don’t.
This blonde brain is overstuffed and searching for a day that makes sense.
I’m done with anything that white washes my day with COVID.
I’m done with having to wear ear pods all day to block out the overhead sound abuse.
I’m done with giving any air time to the political games, blaming, shaming and anger.
And I’m damn well not going to give the fear and anxiety that’s trying to creep into my mind any more oxygen.
I’ve reminded myself this morning, I have a choice.
A choice to armour up. Hide away and shut out the world. Stay trapped in my mind and numb my vulnerability through distraction.
Or I can opt to crack my armour and let the light shine in. Illuminating my vulnerability and wakening my bleary eyes and tired brain.
The way out of our minds is always through the world. A world we can reach through giving, connecting, creating and curiosity. Each gesture strengthening our resilience that little bit more and our relationship with ourselves by accepting we are doing the best we can.
The imperfection of today’s world is a reminder of the falsehood of contrived perfection and in the power of now. Using our presence in the moment to connect minds through words, hearts through gestures and emotions by sharing and not hiding, our raw and real feelings.
It’s a worthy reminder that real friendships are treasures. Simple pleasures are comforting. Our homes are our havens to be lived in, not showrooms on display. Love and connection is enough for our kids right now and sleep is always an antidote to a fragile mind.
Let’s get on with life not pretending to be someone we aren’t. Goodness knows there’s little energy left for that. Let’s be us. Share the befuddled confusion, messy days and at times frightening uncertainty, to patiently understand each other and accept the place we are rather than wishing we were somewhere we aren’t.
And never forget some of the most powerful moments in our lives arise from the most imperfect of times.
I for one, am banking on that.
Peta x
Performance Coach | Speaker | Facilitator
Author of My Beautiful Mess - Living through burnout & rediscovering me