When I started this blog, I had Plans. Lots of big, elaborate Plans that involved breathtaking photography, beautiful videos, and eloquent words that encompass the nature of living in harmony with this planet and the people in it. Of course, even the best plans do something or other (I’m too lazy to look up the quote, but you know the one). The biggest problem is that despite all of these Plans, I never had a clear idea of what everything would look like, exactly, once it was executed–I never came up with a backbone to hold it all up.
Since starting this blog, I’ve applied for countless jobs and been denied all but one (and even that’s just part time). We’ve moved to a different apartment in a different city (not far away, but definitely a new setting). I’ve started freelancing my writing and editing services. I’ve met a lot of really nice people and a few rather unpleasant ones. We had to learn to downsize and eat on a strict budget. Waking up early feels more natural, for some reason (is that an age thing? I’ve heard that that’s an age thing).
Basically, things are quite different from how they were just two months ago.
The point of all this is that even though it looks kinda rough from the outside, I’m really happy. I’m broke, our home is smaller, my car is essentially a parking lot decoration because the engine floods every time I drive it, and I have no idea what to do because no one will hire me, but I’m still pretty content. Obviously, stress is a natural companion to instability and uncertainty, but we’ve been side-by-side for so long that I’m pretty good at acknowledging it and moving on.
The happiness thing, though. That was unexpected.
Our apartment smells kinda funny and the floor creaks. The windows refuse to stay open and the cat has developed a bad habit of opening all of the cheap cabinet doors (to explore, of course). We got rid of/stored a lot of our belongings because we lost an entire room’s square footage. My books are very in-your-face and the kitchen is so dark that you actually have to turn on the light every time you go in, no matter the time of day.
When I want to scribble in a coloring book while we watch Netflix, I don’t have to get up and go to the other room to arm myself with colored pencils and pages. When I want to draw, or paint, or work on a craft project, it’s all in one spot. My plants are easy to keep track of (because there isn’t as much space to spread them out) and it’s fun to watch the cat roll around on the hideous high pile carpet–she loves it.
Cooking is easier now that I don’t have to get out the step stool to reach the top shelf, and cleanup is unavoidable because we don’t have a spot on the counter where I can just shove all the dirty stuff aside.
We’ve restricted ourselves from eating out and buying alcohol, so meals are simple, planned and predictable. We haven’t been wasting produce because we only buy what we need. I genuinely look forward to mealtimes when we can eat together and appreciate the food.
It’s simple. I’m pretty into it, tbh.
Along that same vein, I feel like I’ve pared down The Wellness Nerd. It’s like I’m nesting, but instead of decorating bare walls and finding just the right spot for mugs and spoons, I’m creating a word space. Getting back to the basics.
Eventually, a pattern will emerge. I’ll figure out the photography thing. There is a lot of fuel to keep this passion project burning and I intend to feed it, little by little. For now, I’ll reel in the formulas and how-to’s and just focus on me–on my wellness. I still have immediate plans, like following up on how my mint tea experiment turned out (spoilers: it went really, really well), and this whole freelance thing kind of took me by surprise, so it’ll be interesting to see where that leads me.
The point is, I’m nesting. Or something. Letting all the extraneous shit go and just focusing on settling into a comfortable space.
Thanks for tagging along.