Recently, I’ve been stuck in a bit of a rut when it comes to the progression I’m making in my life. It feels like I’m jogging on the spot and I’m running out of time to reach my destination.
But I wasn’t given a deadline so why am I so anxious?
I’ll tell you why but first, let me paint you a picture.
I’m sat in my year nine media class, connecting the digital camera to the computer that lets out a loud sigh as I plug in the USB, slouching in my chair and outstretching my legs in the bell bottom trousers that were part of the uniform. After a few minutes, the pictures display themselves in a colourful array on the screen, the pictures I stayed after school to take in the studio so I wouldn’t be disturbed. The task for the week was to design a front page for a teen magazine, research photography style, article types and so on. It was that day that I decided I wanted to get into something like that, become an editor or a journalist. The idea was cemented in my heart, pictures of working in London in beautiful clothes, I could almost hear the busy clicking of heels in the luxurious lobby of the building I worked in, echoing in the back of my mind.
This aspiration of being a journalist stuck with me. It’s the reason as to why I even started my first blog, to get some practice in. And so, I wrote and read, I analysed other blogs and researched universities before I’d even started college as to where the best journalism course was. I was driven by this excitement towards being a career woman, it was the only goal I wanted to achieve. No husband, no kids, no pet but I wanted a career that consumed all of my time and passion.
And then circumstances changed and I dropped out of college as I’ve mentioned before.
And I decided I didn’t even like writing about fashion and make up as I did when I originally started blogging, it just didn’t captivate me the way it used to. So, I deleted the blog as well.
But I still wanted to be a writer and it seemed I was getting further and further away, working backwards towards the goal that was becoming more like a dream than an attainable job. I wanted to give up and stop caring but if I did that, I would be putting to rest everything I had worked hard to improve on.
It took me years to realise that dropping out of college didn’t have to be the end and deleting my blog and starting a new one wasn’t really going right back at square one because I know more now.
Shaking the feeling that I should be further along in life was a hard one and I only had that feeling originally because I was pining after all the previous plans I had made without taking into account that when I made them, I had no idea what was going to happen. I certainly didn’t think I’d be starting an Open University course at 22 years old with a new blog, living back at my mums. It may not be what I had intended, but it is what it is and I’m doing what I can.
Sometimes, people carry on because they feel like they’ve come too far to change course or they feel too old or they feel like they’ve ran out of time to do anything else but… well, it’s just not true. We’re asked, at a very young age, what we want to be when we’re older and I implore you all to change that answer as many times as you like, at any point in your life. You only have a set amount of time in this world, please set aside any fears in regards to restarting and just take the leap. Realistically, what’s the worst that could happen?