Cutlery and Clarity: How I Harnessed Deep Desperation & Misery as a Catalyst for Change
Toward the end of 2019, I had begun to have recurring thoughts of driving my car into a tree. To have a thought like that out of the blue? Well, that’s one thing, but to have it every time I got behind the wheel of my car? That’s another thing entirely. I knew based on that thought and that thought alone that things were not ok. I’m a survivor. I’m a doer of things. I push through. I’ve been proud of my ‘resilience’ and I’ve worn it like a badge of honour. Life was what life was; I wasn’t listening to my inner voice or unpacking my levels of satisfaction, I was busy doing the things (which mainly included looking after everyone else). My life had become a series of events, one after the other, where my needs and feelings were pushed to the side, and my thinking, my energy and my focus belonged to everyone and everything else. Until I started thinking about driving into trees.
I took myself to the doctor. I knew I needed help. I’d been here before. Not for fifteen years or so, but I knew my state of mind needed attention. So I spoke to my doctor about it. Instead of suggesting I medicate or, like one doctor had done previously, literally handing me a packet with a rainbow on it and leaving me to fend for myself at seventeen and full of grief and turmoil, this doctor took an entirely different approach. He suggested that I book myself into a psychiatric hospital and take some time to figure out what was really going on with me.
I may have previously been offended by such a suggestion but at this point, I was open and willing to do something different.
My experience in the hospital was incredible (I speak more about that here), but one thing that it really helped me to do was gain clarity. I had to face this one, undeniable truth: I hated my life.
On paper, my life looked wonderful. I lived in a million-dollar mansion, on a hill, on a beautiful 43-acre property. I had no financial problems. I had a good-looking husband, a nice car, a photogenic dog and everything I could possibly ask for in the material world. To be so deeply unhappy felt shameful but I genuinely hated my life. I got up nearly every day full of dread. My anxiety was through the roof. I had gotten into this state by ignoring all the other signs. I wasn’t listening to the still small voice. I was ignoring my desires. I was ignoring my needs. I was ignoring the spiking heart rate and chest pain. I was ignoring the whole body pain that was a result of my fight or flight system being constantly engaged and as a result, I burnt out good and proper.
In the hospital, I wasn’t focused on fixing other people. In the hospital, I wasn’t having to fake my feelings. I was able to take stock and look at all the different areas of my life and where I’d neglected my joy. Thankfully this particular hospital had a focus on a more holistic approach to anxiety and depression. It wasn’t about medicating my feelings away, it was about identifying where they were coming from and what I needed to do about them. What was my anxiety and depression trying to tell me? How did I get to this place?
I felt so hollow and empty. I’d been running on autopilot for so long that I’d forgotten what fun or joy even was, let alone making any time for it. My marriage was in the toilet. No blame necessary - we had both done similar things, putting everything else first besides our own happiness in the hopes that that’s how it works (just for the record, neglecting yourself to look after everyone else is not how it ‘works’, it’s a recipe for deep misery and resentment).
My psychologist had suggested that it was an essential part of my recovery to make time for my music and songwriting and the more that I did that, the clearer things became. Songwriting for me has always been an effective way for me to uncover things that I may have been suppressing. Creativity is good like that. It stops your logical brain from telling you to soldier through and put up with anything. It just tells you what’s really going on. Which explains why I hadn’t really done it for a few years. My guitar was covered in dust; a red flag for someone so intrinsically wired for ‘musicking’. Not surprisingly once I returned to my art form it was songwriting where I discovered I wanted to give up on my marriage. I hadn’t even considered it and yet, I was being forced to acknowledge, that from somewhere deep down inside there were songs I’d created, undeniably telling me what I needed to do next. It took a while before I heeded that inner wisdom - I had wanted to fix things so badly, but in the end, that became the only way forward.
When I found myself at the crossroads of ‘what next’, after my marriage dissolved, it was then I began to ask myself questions about what I really wanted. Where did I want to live? What did I want my life to look like? Because I had been living the reality of not actively creating the life I want and it had led me to such a dead end, I knew it would be extremely important for me to get clear on what I wanted to do moving forward. I began to think about the kind of life that would be sustainable, the kind of lifestyle that would allow for my chronic illness without triggering flare-ups all the time, the kind of climate that would be kinder on my joints (hello coastal life versus the freezing cold). I unpacked my needs for solitude versus my needs for community and being close to my family (and thoroughly thought that through because I knew if I lived near my family, I would have to tell people not to knock on my door or just show up unannounced and that that would be a difficult prospect but when I need downtime I need downtime, that and I work from home and I’m often recording and if I’m on my 57th take and I’m finally getting it right a door knock may just tip me over the edge).
I also began to get clearer on who I was. What were the things I needed? What kind of environment would my personality type thrive in? Where would I find purpose and joy? What kind of relationships did I want to build? What kind of people did I want in my life? Asking myself all these kinds of questions and doing a thorough investigation helped me to navigate my way forward. When it came time for me to begin to date again I didn’t do that blindly either. I researched relationship styles, attachment styles, love languages - the lot. I knew that my ex-husband and I clashed a lot due to our attachment styles and our love languages being entirely incompatible (which we didn’t know until much later because neither of us had even really heard of that until a little too late). I knew that my personal history of growing up around alcoholism meant that I would need someone who didn’t drink a lot or often because coming from my background alcohol was such a trigger for me. I knew I needed someone who wasn’t clingy or over-the-top affectionate because I’m avoidant, but I also needed someone capable of reassuring me when I’m clingy or over-the-top affectionate because I also have an anxious attachment style (hello the most disorganised attachment style of all - anxious/avoidant of course, awesome, that’s just got to be me). Knowing what my needs were (and coming to accept them) enabled me to make choices that ensured that my needs were going to be able to met. I didn’t have to train someone to be a different person to be with me, I just needed to find someone who was the right fit for me; a secure attachment style. Having that knowledge first made a huge difference while I was looking. I wasn’t constantly going to the hardware store for bread if you get what I’m saying.
My entire life has changed in the past few years and not without a great deal of difficulty. When I first left I remember breaking down in kmart because I couldn’t decide what cutlery to buy. That’s how much I had become accustomed to deferring my decision-making; I couldn’t even get forks. In the end, I sternly reminded myself that it’s ok to get things wrong. If I hate this cutlery, nobody is going to get mad at me, I can donate it and buy more if I need to (in case you’re wondering I still have the same cheap ass cutlery and it’s perfectly adequate). I’ve made choices, so many choices and when I’ve been unhappy with the choices I’ve made, I’ve made new choices
I now live close to my family, but my time with them is boundaried and enjoyable. I do work that I love. I have authentic relationships with people who get me. The coastal life has been healing for me. I took up surfing at 38 and it’s been fabulous for my mental health. The home environment I have is cosy, peaceful, comforting, stable and secure - basically what I’ve always wanted since I was little even if I’d not been able to articulate it or understand that it’s actually possible. I actively pursue my dreams. I stopped doing gigs that I hated and started doing shows that I love. I stopped looking at other artists and measuring my success against their highlight reels and instead got super clear on what I wanted for me and why. I started pursuing that and it’s been a game changer. I’m not worn out chasing my tail trying to fit a lifestyle that doesn’t work for me. I’ve finally got some form of balance. I have a relationship that is grounding and makes me feel valued, understood, supported and loved even when I’m wavering because with my background sometimes that’s just what I do. There is sweet stuff-all drama in my life (if you don’t count the occasional house flood and a pandemic).
Truth be told I am now navigating this extraordinarily foreign space and learning to get familiar and comfortable with it. Retraining my nervous system to not always be waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m both content and inspired to create positive change for others. I’m happy and I’m confident in my own skin. I’ve developed a healthy respect for myself and even learnt to love myself and I’ve started to really nurture myself not just get my basic needs met and as a result, I’m flourishing. I feel like I’ve travelled a million miles to get here but getting clear about who I am and what I want has been an essential part of the map I needed to create to get here. God knows where I would have ended up if I hadn’t taken the time to figure out where I really wanted to go.
If you’re at a standstill with life, feeling stuck, confused, desperate or just disappointed in where you are, don’t let that become your normal. Make the effort to get some clarity so that you can make choices to create change. It’s one thousand per cent worth it and while sometimes clarity can be confronting, it’s still an essential process for growth and change. Just don’t forget to cut yourself some slack and remember that change doesn’t need to happen all at once.
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