Coming Back to Life

Up until now, this blog has been a catalogue of disaster. If you’ve been with me from the beginning, thanks for sticking with it while I’ve been going on about how miserable and finally depressed I was. This is where it starts to get better, I promise!

Unfortunately, I didn’t wake up one morning completely cured and as happy as Little Miss Sunshine. There was no Road to Damascus moment, no flash of light … but a gradual return to myself.

The first thing I changed was that I started walking to work. It was about 6 km with taking my daughters to school and nursery, but I could still do it in an hour – less time than commuting on public transport in the rush hour. Plus, I was out in the fresh (kind of) air. (I live in a capital city in 21st century – how clean is the air going to get?) And I had time for myself – to think, to listen to music, to finally process everything that I’ve been writing about.

People thought I was crazy for walking 6 km to work and 6 km home, but it changed me. I didn’t realise how much the crush of the bus and train was affecting me psychologically. Maybe it was a metaphor: standing squashed on the bus, I had no control over the traffic or my time of arrival. On foot, I was walking with a purpose, always moving forward. I could adjust my own pace, change my route if I fancied it. I was no longer a passenger – I was making the decisions.

I know it sounds like I’m placing too much weight on a simple thing. Big deal, you’re thinking, she changed the way she travelled to work. But I’m serious. Making the decision to walk outside in the ‘fresh’ air, stretching my muscles and ordering my thoughts, was the first step – no pun intended – on my long climb from the darkness to the light.

Image from Pixabay. ‘Coming Back to Life’ music and lyrics by Pink Floyd, footage from The Division Bell Tour 1994 courtesy of WinterRain on YouTube.