A bit over a year ago my entire life imploded. I lost my relationship, my job, my career, the house I owned, my cat, a large number of friends. I didn't even feel like I was in the right place in the world. My entire life was upended and everything I had thought about myself, and how my life would be like disappeared in an instant. (or certainly in what felt like an instant). At the time I really struggled. But even in those moments, I knew instinctively what I wanted to do, I just didn't have the courage to do it.
However, I defaulted to looking for anchors, because for the first time in my life I didn't have a plan set in front of me. But for the first time, I had no one but myself to guide my plans. It was terrifying. I realised I never really had this much freedom, so I didn't really know what to do with it. I chose my university studies and my career path because of my parents, the city I lived in because of my partner, gave up on a lot of things I liked because of the people around me., I settled down my desire to see new places due to my cat. I realised just how little time I spent actually driving my own life. They were my anchors, I lost them all, and that was uncharted territory for me.
I went on survival mode, trying to grasp at the smallest bits of familiarity, even the unhealthy ones, in order to keep going. I am grateful that I had friends that were there for me emotionally. And I also noticed what friends I didn't actually have in the process. I did try to use them as anchors in those tumultuous times, but they weren't anchors, they were my lifesavers.
Thing about me is I am extremely good in an emergency. I will immediately act and unbreak the situation. (Note: I used un-break, not fix, they're not the same) I immediately started applying for jobs, even though I knew I wasn't ready. I also knew it wasn't what I wanted to do. But how could I possibly not have a job, right? I had a job offer soon enough, but to quote a friend "it had more red flags than the communist revolution". I had made the mistake before to accept one such offer, and regretted it, so, this time, I stuck a toe out of my comfort zone and rejected it. I am glad I did.
Before my life so nicely imploded, I had been considering a career change, with a few options. I was thinking about going travelling for a while, digital nomad style (or just tourist style), but dismissed it as it would have been detrimental to my relationship. As soon as my life imploded, I wanted to run away to Korea for a couple of months. But I didn't. Why? After all, I had nothing keeping me in London. A support system formed of a small number of friends, some of whom were already planning on moving away to the US, most of whom I primarily talked on messaging apps anyway. But I stayed. Not really living, trying to find an anchor, a job, a career, some activities to give me a reason to stay.
In April, however, I think my brain finally went "enough". I hadn't had a break out of survival mode, or a holiday since the previous June. So I booked a month trip to Korea May to June, with a hop to Japan. Korea I already knew to be great, so it was the comfort, Japan was the new experience.
In April, I also, accidentally, came across coaching. Therapy or counselling was something that had been on my idea list of possible career changes, but I had eventually dismissed them due to the time and wage impracticalities. Coaching, however, ticked my every box.
So, in May, I went to Korea. I promised myself I would not be looking at jobs or applying to any of them. I prepared a copy-paste response I would send to recruiters, so I don't feel like missing out. And focused entirely on doing what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it.
When I returned in June I felt like a new person. I signed up to the coaching course that was starting in July. I decided I would return to Korea, not quite yet sure in what capacity, and I felt for the first time ever like my head was finally clear. I was out of the storm. That is not to say everything was suddenly better. But the storm had finally passed.
The 12 month rental agreement I made, the jobs I had applied to before my trip... quickly became things that were weighing me down, even if they helped me to go through the storm of my life. So, I let some of them run their course and then focused only on positions that would allow me to be fully remote. This was still an anchor back into software engineering, but if it would allow me to move countries, it would be worth it.
I realised just how much my decision to stay in London affected my financial commitment. But I won't dismiss the opportunities London came with. It was an anchor, and it came time that I released it, so I can take up other things on my boat. So I released it. For now London is still my harbour, and I am giving myself the time to load up my ship to set sail. But now it's no longer an anchor.
In the clear skies of my life now, I was anxious I wasn't making enough progress fast enough. Why would that even be a concern? I was making more progress in the direction I wanted to go than I had made in ages if ever. The storm had finally passed, and for the first time I had completely clear skies, I could see ahead of me. Enough to finally see my next destination.
I think part of me still sees it as a mirage. I was conditioned to prepare my anchors in case another storm came. This hurry up mentality is the same conditioning going: "quick, while we still can". But, I made my calculations. There should be no storm for at least 5 years. Even if I keep things at this pace: I will be fine.
I finally don't need the anchors, wherever my next port will be, I will find ways to safely moor my ship while I am there. But I admit that anchors are my comfort zone, regardless how miserable they make me (thanks to Dr Russ Harris redefining the comfort zone as the misery zone, I was finally able to see it).
So what now? I have come to the realisation that not only do I not need anchors, but I don't want them anymore. I would love to have some more safety nets (or to keep the maritime metaphor, lifesavers), and I do have some. The one thing I know is that the next people I allow into my life will need to be safety nets, not anchors.
In a storm an anchor, given enough slack holds the ship in position, preventing it from being dragged away by the storm, or sunk. It's there so when the storm passes, the ship can regain its course. But when there's no storm, they only keep the ship moored, unable to move. Here comes my complete lack of knowledge of boats, but I will base the rest of this metaphor on my knowledge of Archimedes' principle. Anchors, however, are very heavy, they would need to be, I assume, however there is a limit to how much weight your boat can hold before sinking.
Safety nets on the other hand are relatively light. They allow you to sail away and are there for you when disaster strikes. They don't hold you back. They don't weigh you down. They feel comforting to know they are there. Sure they require routine maintenance to ensure they work well, but what relationship or even object doesn't?
Anchors and safety nets come in different shapes and sizes. What is an anchor for some could be a safety net for others, and the other way round. If you never want to go someplace (e.g. me and camping) making choices that would prevent you from going there are not anchors. But if you don't know where you want and don't want to go, anchors could easily disguise themselves as safety nets.
So I asked myself: What/Who are my anchors? What/Who are my safety nets? Where do I want to go? Is this allowing me to go there? Would this prevent me from reaching that place? Would this be an anchor, or is it just a port I need to stop by temporarily to refuel, so I can keep going to my destination?
I feel like I got here late, I am still finding myself and what I want. But I got here. And the scariest anchor I need to let go of is "it's too late now", because unless I set sail, I will never get there. But, in 10 years time, I'd much rather be 40 having tried, than 40 having given up because it was too late.
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