The Illusion of Freedom

Living the Island Dream…

When I was sixteen, I spent most weekends on a beautiful Island. The only way to get there was by water taxi and barge, so it was relatively unaffected by tourism. 

My father died when I was twelve. I was very lost, having left school early and with no direction. My home life was not stable. My drug-addled brother took over the house, and my mother was mostly absent as she was not coping well.

I left home at sixteen and moved to the island at seventeen.

On the Island, there were no street lights. The bush was mostly untouched. It was magical. I used to walk in the dark, look at the stars, and listen to the sea. The smell of weed and the sound of 'Dire Straits' would permeate out of little beach houses.

I became part of the community. I saw no point in education or getting a real job. Nature is sublime, and societal achievements are a waste of life. Who wants to be in the big machine…

I was a seeker of freedom…

It Wasn't Quite What It Seemed 

I lived badly. I shared small flats with many others and drank alcohol, smoked cigarettes, and ate corn on the cob. That was the extent of my healthy cooking. I bought carrot cake at the fish and chip shop…the only sign of the health-conscious person I was to become.

She was yet to emerge from the haze of addiction and lack of self-care.

I worked at a petrol station making sandwiches and pumping petrol.

I was tanned with sun-kissed, permed long hair and a slim body. Other women and I would lie on the beach while the boys surfed. We were topless and put fluoro zinc on our nipples. 

Oh, the eighties…

I wasn't a part of that group, though. I called them the 'Sun Tan Clan'. Always a philosopher and deep thinker, I thought them shallow. They existed only for the male gaze. 

I couldn't see how much my life was centred around being accepted by men. It was not as obvious, but in ways more pernicious. I wanted to be rescued. That anxious twelve-year-old girl waiting for her father to come home was running the show and ruining my life. 

I carelessly entered entanglements that only intensified the yearning and grief I already felt.

I had to become my own Knight in Shining Armour.

So if I was 'Living the Dream', why wasn't I Happy?

During the holiday period, the holidaymakers would come to the island. They had their family beach houses, boyfriends or girlfriends, and that excitement that comes from being rewarded for focusing on work or study. 

They had a clear purpose both in life and on holiday. To fully relax, unwind and have fun.

I, on the other hand, was living the 'dream life'. I actually lived in this beautiful place full-time and could swim and surf every day. 

So why was I jealous? 

I was jealous that they had real boyfriends, not secret lovers and one-night stands. But most of all, I was jealous that they were pursuing opportunities.

Now I understand my criticism of job security and societal opportunities was a response to not having access to them. I wanted what I rejected. However, I was never going to follow a conventional path.

But I needed a path. Badly.

Forty Years Later, I am Still Learning

I went to the ocean yesterday, which is an hour away from where I live. After eating a salad at my favourite cafe, I read and then went for a jog on the beach as the weather cooled. 

The beach was vast as the tide was out and the water was far away. I couldn't jog too much as it was still a bit hot. Instead, I stumbled through the soft sand looking for driftwood. No one was around but a couple of fishermen.

There, I met my seventeen-year-old self.

Walking around the beach in the heat in a cheesecloth dress and flowing hair. She loved the beaches, and after all, she was living her best life. But loneliness was her constant companion since her dad died. She walked those beaches on the lookout for a young man she had a crush on or had a liaison with.

They might be out surfing and see her.

I am wearing a long-sleeve shirt and a big hat. I no longer expose my skin to the sun. My hair is long again, but not as long as it was back then, and no longer sun-bleached. It's dark brown with grey tints. 

Despite aging, I have never felt better. But still not living my best life...

Lately, I have been feeling exceptionally lost and lonely and have been daydreaming about driving off in a van around Australia. Don't we all do that? At this age…

Throughout my life, those emotions have always been there in different degrees. When it gets too much, I make dramatic shifts to distract myself. I sought to avoid that cavity within me by creating lots of noise.

I kept busy.

I would move houses, cities, countries, jobs and what I am studying. I was distracted by family drama, relationship drama, parenting and even illness.

Illness was never a choice, though. I suffered from more than one chronic illness over the decades. I have recently recovered.

Illness had a way of eroding my potential without me even realising it.

Now it's quiet.

And today, it's just me and my seventeen-year-old self.

We are walking alongside each other on the white sand, hearing the sound of the ocean. We both feel the same way. Lonely and lost.

I finally understand it.

The Pattern

Running away to the beach never solved anything, and no matter how far I drive my van along the coast, those feelings will only intensify.

It's time to stop running.

I see it as clear as the ocean.

I tell my younger self that freedom is not living in a beautiful place and avoiding society. It's about having purpose. It's about deciding what you want in all areas of life and engaging fully.

We parted, and I headed back to the car park. A van was parked next to my car. People were living in it, not in a homeless way; they seemed to be travellers.

I imagined living like that. But it's not the time, I could feel it. Perhaps one day I will commit to that lifestyle, but right now I have a life that I am only putting half an effort into.

It's understandable, given the challenges I have faced; however, I am going to do the opposite of what I have done my whole life and grow roots so that I can bear fruit. 

Patterns can't break until they are fully seen and understood.

Until then, it's like a spiral, where I return to the same place, but each time a bit differently, until now...

It's never too late to commit fully to a path.

I know that my work needs my attention, as I only give it so much, and then get distracted. My distraction affects momentum, and then I lose interest.

I sporadically appear in social situations rather than committing to regular attendance. Exercise is another area where I would benefit from consistency. 

My old cottage is a work in progress, and lately, I have been giving it attention. I will commit to ongoing improvements, as it helps me mentally to live in a house I love.

And I want to date, but don't actually put myself out there.

It's time…