Staying

It feels like I am coming up for breath (after a deep dive into unknown waters where visibility isn’t very clear and you only have a vague idea of which way is up).

I just need to hold on for a few more strokes and I’ll be there, on the waters surface and taking in gulps of fresh air and the sight of big open sky.

I’ve had this countdown clock in my mind that re-sets each time I move. It has been there for as long as I remember and is set to roughly 5 years give or take. Being made redundant felt like the clock went to double time and I started to set it at 2 years.

This clock has always given me comfort, comfort I guess that I don’t need to invest too much, or make to many plans. It is the thing inside my brain that stops me from painting walls, or buying expensive furniture and it stops me from thinking properly about the idea of ‘settling down’.

With no job, 2 years in one place seemed manageable, specifically because I had already done one of those two years. It made me feel like I could find a job, any job that came up, work and while doing so find the next thing. The next place or job or adventure to move into. It made it all seem more realistic and much easier to cope.

If I don’t give myself the space to think of settling then I never have to actually examine what that looks like.

So this old school 1950’s radio clock is set to 2 years, except it isn’t anymore.

I found a job.

One that actually excites me, one that is in the arena I want to work in, one that requires me to stay. One that has got that clock confused.

And this is why I feel like I am swimming up to the surface of water, just a few strokes away from fresh air.

After living my twenties in a consistently changing environment, unsure of money from funding my own way through volunteer non-profit work, surrounded by a team of volunteers that felt like it changes every 6 months and considering my parents and brothers homes as my safe spaces…this job, the security it offers me feels like I’m close to fresh air.

When I was made redundant 12 months to the day of starting my old job, it felt exactly like all the years of instability I lived through my twenties. The years I had actively chosen to leave. The clock in my brain sped forward a few years and I was left wondering if this place will need to be packed into boxes, ready to move again to somewhere new, to restart once more.

The thing about the countdown clock is that I am not particularly fond of it. I would like to know what it actually feels like to ‘settle down’ into somewhere. Having stability in your neighbours and friends, being able to invest long term into your community and city. To discover all the best places and secret spots in the city, and know the hole in the wall coffee spots and the cities rhythms.

Something about this new job, something about how my mind seems to have turned the clock off is making me feel like I’m close to the surface. I’m close to the fresh air of staying and breathing, treading water and enjoying the open skies.

Acknowledging the idea of staying, acknowledging the possibility of no countdown clock, admitting to wanting to figure out and discover what settling down looks like…it all scares me.

Maybe that means I should head it face on.

R/