A long way from where I started

A long way from where I started

What has happened to me? Seriously, I am getting quite concerned about myself.

Have you ever had that happen, where you kind of look down and think “wow, I’m a long way from where I started … !”

I can’t believe I’m owning up to this, but here it goes. I just got back from a shopping trip. I purchased 50kg of wood (not much), a new axe and half a dozen mouse traps. I also picked up another six litres of engine oil and two pumpkins. Oh, that’s not what stopped me in my tracks. Nope. It was realising that I had, without hesitation, done all of this shopping wearing: black gumboots (not the pretty ones with logos, or fur-lined, or especially flown in from London – just practical big black gumboots), fleecy-lined leggings (because THAT’s slimming), a red, grey and white check flannel shirt (that was difficult to admit to – but it’s SO comfy!) and my hair in a kind of tangle of curls-type-pony-tail-type-bun-on-top thing – mainly ’cos I couldn’t actually get the elastic band out.

It wasn’t the looking in the mirror part that shocked me – although it would shock most. It was realising that I couldn’t be happier about it. And that is when I really scratch my head in wonder that I have come so far from where I started – from the vision that I had of where I was going.

I don’t mean literally going, I knew I wanted to be in the country. Tick. But I thought maybe whilst we’d still need wood, and an axe, and (hopefully not) mouse traps and engine oil and all that stuff, that there would be a “significant other” to deal with those things.

You know, a “man’s man”, someone looking after the little woman, keeping the fires lit and the car serviced, protecting and providing. I guess I’d kind of thought I’d still be in pretty dresses, with boots of course, and my hair would still be blow-dried and nice. I’d be focused on picking the herbs from my herb garden, working on my marketing strategies for my businesses whilst looking lovingly out to the perfectly maintained fields. I’d still wear lipstick.

Hmmmph. Well that couldn’t really be further from the truth. I swing the axe through the firewood. I set the fire. I take the bins out. I set the mouse traps – and clear them. Yep. I change the engine oil. I drive hundreds of kilometres a week to various work things. I pay the bills. I do the housework and all the cooking. I look after the dog and the horse too. And I couldn’t be happier.

It’s not that I don’t want a man to be involved in these things, truth be told, I’d love one. It’s just finding the right one, and I really believe that the more capable and strong you are, well, it’s just harder to find a man that is going to “fit” into that reality.

Take for example the guy I just met. I was quite excited, at first. Really nice guy. Skinny jeans (?!), trendy t-shirts, the world’s softest hands. Seriously, not a scratch or callus on them. Good looking city boy. It didn’t last.

It’s not just the differences in lifestyles – I know not everyone wants to go horse riding, or thinks nothing of having to drive two hours to get anywhere, and I know I should be more grateful for the invitations to launches of postcards in the city – but it’s also the difference in being truly independent.

When you realise you don’t need someone to do things for you, then sometimes that person can feel un-needed. Make sense? Basically, I could no more make out that I needed someone to catch the mouse for me, than he could make out he felt comfortable doing it - he needed to be the hero, but being a hero in my world was just a little too far out of his comfort zone.

Life takes us all on incredible journeys, sometimes we visualise the path and the destination and can celebrate achieving the goal and other times we need to celebrate the achievement of having arrived somewhere unexpected but finding it’s just perfect for you.

I’m celebrating the realisation that I am just fine on my own. I look forward to maybe one day, celebrating finding someone who is a perfect match for my reality.

Celebrate this month, wherever you find yourself. Even if you do find yourself in gumboots and a flannie!

Lots of love,

Abby x

P.S. you can write to me at [email protected]. We love your feedback!

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