Ashamed

I felt ashamed today. A kind man, helping me carry wine from the car to the venue asked me how he could get into the television industry. He works when the venue is preparing or hosting an event, which means he only works half of each month – if that much.

My heart sank.

I don’t have a good relationship with my job at this point. Sad, but true. Its not that I don’t like it: I do, but I’m scared. Not sure for what because I’ve made mistakes before, big ones, and I’m still here.

I’m also tired.

Tired of working to prove myself.

Tired of working long hours and it being the norm.

Tired to not be able to spend with people that make me happy or with books that make me happy or in countries that make me happy.  

My heart sank because what do I say to him: do I tell him the truth about the long work hours and the unethical things that people do?

Or do I encourage him to find a good job, because from the little time I spend with him today, I can see he is a good worker.

My answer came out and I immediately felt ashamed. I told him about the long hours: 6 days a week, sometimes 7 days a week for weeks on end. He commented saying everybody needs to start somewhere.

What do I, with a good job, a roof over my head, with hot water to bathe in every night and warm clothes have to complain about?

When I wanted to stay

I came back from the Park run with a song in my heart. I was happy. I woke up early to do the Park run with friends, had breakfast afterwards and returned home.

And for a brief moment I wanted to stay.

I wanted to stay in my home country. I wanted to be around for the park runs on Saturdays, the braais on Sundays and the thunderstorms in the summer months. I wanted to be around to see my friends children grow up. To explore all the new restaurants this city offer.

I wanted to be around.

Perhaps it was because for the first time in 4 months I had a weekend off. Oh, two day weekend... I have missed you. I had time to do my washing. To lay in bed reading. To make coffee and drink it while its hot.

I don't really ever get the want-to-stay-feeling. I normally get the where-am-I-going-next feeling. I like a simple life. One where my life belongings fit into a backpack. One where I only need a bed, a bathroom and a kitchen. An alternative life.

But for a brief moment, just one, I wanted to stay.  

Now

I’ve lived in my new apartment in my old life for almost a month now. 21 days to be exact. As I settled into my life I realized that I dreaded this. This version of me Im expected to be.

When I left for India I packed 4 pairs of shoes. Which, when you’re traveling, is a lot. It was my all time favourite, worn out All Stars, running shoes and two pairs of slops. I still have all four pairs of shoes. A pair of slops was brought after one pair was stolen on an overnight bus trip from Delhi to Dehradun. My friend hated the bumpy bus trip, but I was too excited to care. It was my first weekend trip away from Dehli.

I survived for 2 years without a stable home. With 4 pairs of shoes. Without a stable job. And it was ok. I was ok. I was happy.

Contrary to what it seemed, I had enough of everything. I had enough money to walk into a private medical clinic in India and Malawi and for a couple of Rands get amazing treatment. Clean, friendly, helpful staff. Oh, and medication included.

While unpacking I hanged my prayer flags in my kitchen/ dining room. It was the only thing on my wish list to buy in Nepal. I didn’t go into Nepal with a list. Accommodation yes, but no expectation, no reason – just curiosity. But it gave me the world: it gave me friendly school girls who offered random conversation, bus trips through hills of greenery, little towns with mud huts and cows walking down the street and hours spend on the lake in Pokhora, getting sunburned.

I’m not sure what I hoped I would find.

What life would entail this time around.

Im not sure if I thought that I would settle back into it.

But I made the choice.

I did the ‘right’ thing.

And now I don’t know why.

The one thing

I rarely reach the point where I don’t know what to do next.  I always have a back up plan, another way to go.  I sometimes think I might as well write ‘Plan maker’ on my CV.  I do it for a living, I plan things and when it all goes wrong – as it normally does, I make other plans.  I come up with solutions.

Today, however, I don’t have a plan.  I’m stuck between a rock and a very hard uncomfortable place.  I sit behind my computer, put headphones on to try ward off any possible interaction. 

I want to move on from my current place of employment, but I cannot find anything else.  Not that I’m not trying… but that’s a whole other story. 

I am a bit of an adventurer and found the idea of working in another country incredibly appealing. New cities to discover, new people, beautiful architecture… It can only be great.

The answer I get from everybody is to teach English somewhere.  I looked it up, it’s possible to go pretty much anywhere: Thailand, Japan, Korea, Philippines, Taiwan, Singapore, Malaysia, Costa Rica, Brazil, Turkey, Czech republic, Greece, Italy, France, Kenya… Take a map, close your eyes and pinpoint. 

The problem: I stutter.  Not much and it’s never kept from doing or trying anything new.  Problem is now, I cannot teach if I stutter – and I cannot not tell people.  It’s dishonest.  But how do I tell any recruiter that yes, I think I’d be amazing, but I stutter where speaking is 80% of the job.

It’s never bothered me, it seemed at one point that it bothered others more than it bothered me.  I’ve stuttered for as long as I can remember and I find ways to work with it.  Been to speech therapy and no, it didn’t do much… Making peace with it - made a big difference.  Its part of me, like my freckles, it’s apparently here to stick around for some time so instead of getting an ulcer worrying about it, I might as well make peace with it. 

Why all of a sudden does my life depend on something I cannot do? Nor not as well as others.  Are all the things I can do not enough?  I’m human, nobody can do everything…