Dozy Writes

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I was out driving the other week in the north east of Scotland and as I drove through country roads lined with lush green fields guarded by vibrant gorse bushes, I felt myself relax. 

You see, even though I’m currently in a region that I don’t know particularly well, there are similarities in the surroundings to the place where I grew up, and that feeling of familiarity is hardwired into making my brain relax.

I haven’t had a lot of familiarity in the last couple of years and I’m only now realising that it is something I have started to yearn for again.

Discarding familiarity

For those of you who don’t know my story, three and a half years ago I decided to leave my job, my flat and the majority of my belongings behind and embark on an adventure where I could live life more in the present and be less concerned about planning every detail.

I had been thinking of doing something like this for quite some time. It started with me moving to London, wanting to see who I could be in a place where no-one really knew me.

It was the beginning of a conscious decision to strip away the expectations and rules of society so I could work out who I actually was underneath it all.

Mid-life crisis

I suspect that many of my friends and family wondered if I was having some kind of mid-life crisis when I chose to first move to London and then start travelling in my mid forties.

But the thing is, I never really travelled when I was in my teens. I didn’t do the gap year or the crazy holidays – apart from one crazy holiday which is definitely a story in its own right.

At the age of 21 I was married and had my first mortgage. Not exactly a situation that was compatible with free-spirited travelling.

However, it seemed that the wanderlust was in me all along although I would have struggled to identify it as such. This was evidenced by a conversation I had with my first husband not long after we got married.

‘Do you ever feel that you are two people trapped in the same body?’ I asked him one day.

His blank expression suggested he didn’t understand so I tried to explain further.

‘I mean, have you ever felt that you have two completely different sides of you that battle for attention and you never know which one to let out?’

The blank expression was replaced by one of concern as he wondered if his new wife was actually confessing to being some kind of Jekyll and Hyde character.

I quickly tried to allay his concerns. ‘No, what I’m trying to say is that there is a side of me that likes to be organised and orderly, that wants to have things in a certain way. But there’s also a side of me that wants to dance in the fields and wear flowers in my hair.’

Still no response from him.

‘It’s the side of me that wants to be free and just be!’ I exclaimed, throwing my arms in the air in a dramatic fashion.

‘I don’t really get what you mean,’ he replied, looking worried and uncertain. 

And in that moment, I decided to suppress those feelings and just get on with being married.

Clearly, that didn’t work out. 

It turns out that suppressing your feelings is a really, really bad idea but it took me many years and a couple of marriages to come to this realisation.

Trying something new

I’ve always been drawn to different people. I enjoy seeing the difference in their outlook and trying to understand if it’s something that would work for me. 

My second husband was a very colourful person. He had a zest for life and a ‘fuck it’ attitude that was particularly attractive to me at that point in my life.

He had lived life on the edge and had a real knack for navigating difficult situations meaning that he was quite exciting to be around.

When I met him he had been living a fairly rebellious and carefree lifestyle for much of his life but wanted to start living a more settled life.

I, on the other hand, had lived a fairly settled life for a few years and was looking for a more carefree lifestyle. 

It became apparent that we were actually moving in opposite directions, having briefly met in the middle.

For this, and many other reasons, the marriage didn’t work out but I learned a lot from him during our time together.

When I got together with my next partner, the famous A.P, I knew that I would be living life in a different way. 

He’s a unique man with fairly unusual ideas so life was never going to be traditional with him.

Except at some point it did become a bit traditional, something that surprised us both.

Living traditionally

A.P and I never planned to live together. He came to stay with me for four days whilst his boat was getting lifted out of the water in advance of its sale.

Three years later he moved out.

Those three years living together were wonderful. We didn’t tire of each other and were mindful not to take each other for granted.

He was easy to live with, happy to take on household chores and was genuinely appreciative of everything I did.

But during this time, I started to feel an obligation to put his needs before my own.

At no point did A.P ever ask me to do this or expect it of me. It was simply something that I had always done in relationships before. 

It appeared that the act of us living together had triggered the default response in my brain.

So I found myself doing less of the things that I wanted to do and instead making sure I was there for anything that A.P might want or need.

To be clear, this wasn’t a hardship. I enjoy looking after people but I think I realised that I was in danger of developing some underlying resentment if I didn’t watch myself.

Fortunately, we both agreed that something had to change and after some discussions, A.P moved onto his new boat which he had been fitting out whilst living with me. I stayed in my cottage.

We established a new routine and allowed our relationship to evolve in line with our growth as individuals.

I was incredibly content. Almost too content.

It struck me one day when I was wandering around the garden of my beautiful pink cottage that stood in a small village next to the sea. 

I trailed my fingers through the lavender bushes, enjoying the scent as it mingled with the sea air and I thought to myself, ‘This is perfect.’

My next thought was, ‘I’ve become too comfortable here. I’m not sure if I’m being challenged enough to keep growing.’

Let’s move somewhere new

I spoke about it to A.P and we decided we fancied a move to a new area, so at the age of 43, I packed up a van with a few belongings and drove down to London to start a new life. 

A.P sailed his boat south, settling in a marina that was only an hour away by train and we each built new lives in our respective places, spending time together every couple of weeks.

Having this space in our relationship gave me the chance to work out what I wanted from life rather than just blindly going along with whatever a partner wanted.

I loved living in London, I loved the multiculturalism and the bustle. I loved learning about different cultures through speaking to my friends and neighbours.

I made friends with people who were artists and dancers. None of them ever looked sceptical when I said I wanted to stop work so I could write full time.

When the bustle of London got too much for me I would escape to the boat and spend time with A.P at the seaside.

I was living two completely different lives at the same time – something that seemed to be in line with my apparent split personality.

However, this was only ever a temporary stop for us because we had big plans to travel. 

We wanted to sail to Spain, taking the scenic route through the Dutch canals, the Rhine and the Danube before eventually joining the Mediterranean in some way – I was a bit vague about the details but I had complete faith in A.P’s ability to work it out. 

Then Covid hit and the implications of BREXIT became more apparent meaning the way we planned to travel was no longer viable.

I’m not going to lie, part of me was secretly relieved because my chronic seasickness didn’t bode well for such a journey.

So instead, we chose to wait a while longer to see how things would work out.

Wanderlust

After fourteen months in London, I decided to finish up at work and leave my flat in London so I could potter around the UK.

I reconnected with many people, getting the chance to spend time with folk in a way I never had a chance to whilst I was working.

Then A.P and I decided to go interrailing and had some amazing adventures as we travelled through France and Spain, never sure exactly where we would go next.

I visited my family in Australia a few times, enjoying the opportunity to spend time with them without worrying about how much time I had to take off work.

I visited Malaysia and Bali, and I returned to Spain a couple of times.

On occasion, I didn’t know where I would be staying the next week or sometimes even the next day. 

It was a way of living that I never thought I would cope with but I embraced it and I learned a lot about myself in the process.

Those three years were undeniably challenging but also incredibly rewarding and I am grateful that I had the chance to do it.

But I’m not sure that I’m designed to be an eternal wanderer. Motion sickness isn’t the best companion for a traveller. I also started to miss having my own place and my own routine.

That, combined with the need for money, has led me to the position where I’m now working in the type of job that I never thought I would do again.

Except it’s a little bit different.

The industry I work in has a lot of straight-talking people which is quite refreshing. Nobody dances around any issues.

It’s a welcome change and that, along with the fact that everybody curses and swears, means that it doesn’t feel like I’m returning to the same old thing. 

It’s exciting and challenging but also provides me with stability and routine.

OK, so I’m not delighted about having to get up early EVERY. SINGLE. DAY but the weekends are all the more sweeter for it.

I’d wondered if I would feel like I was selling myself out by returning to a more regular job but it has actually felt really positive.

I get to interact with lots of people again and build relationships in a way that I haven’t been able to do when I’ve been less settled.

I’ve missed doing that, it’s something that has always been important to me.

Clearing out your wardrobe

Trying to find out who you really are is a bit like clearing out your wardrobe.

Sometimes you find old clothes that you wonder why you kept them because they’re just no good for you. 

Sometimes you rediscover an old dress that you thought you’d grown out of but which you now discover still fits you really well.

And sometimes you realise that a couple of the new items you bought don’t actually suit you as much as you thought they might.

But here’s the thing, you don’t have to keep the new clothing if you discover it’s not for you.

What’s important is that you give it a try rather than just sit there wondering for the rest of your life if it might suit you or not.

Speaking of wardrobes, I had an interesting moment in my new job last week. 

I had phoned IT support to report an issue with my laptop camera which wasn’t working. They had remote accessed my computer and were trying different things to fix the issue but the screen stayed stubbornly dark.

I reached across to check something on the camera and suddenly I heard the IT support man say delightedly, ‘Oh, it’s definitely working now!’

I looked at the screen to see that the camera was indeed working and quite a large amount of my bra-encased bosom was on display – the result of an unfortunate wardrobe malfunction with my wrap dress.

The wrap dress was a new purchase, one of a variety of dresses bought as a statement of my intention to settle for a while.

Having lived out of a suitcase for the majority of the last three years I was limited in the amount of clothing I could carry with me.

It’s nice to add a few extra dresses into my wardrobe, but living out of a suitcase made me realise that there are very few possessions that I need to survive. 

I now have a much deeper appreciation of the simple things in life: having a bed to sleep in and food to eat.

I still have no idea who I am but this is no longer a mystery that I feel the need to solve. 

Instead I’m happy to accept that I can just be however I feel I need to be depending on the circumstances.

And if that includes being the person who accidentally flashes her boobs on a video call then I am happy to go along with that.