Feeling: RESOLUTE – NO, I’M FEELING UNRESTRAINED

Feeling: RESOLUTE – NO, I’M FEELING UNRESTRAINED

I’m big on resolutions.

Not just for New Years, either. But for first of the month, first of the week, – mate! – even every-morning. You know, the “bed-by-9.30-read-for-half-an-hour-then-slumber-at-10”, “hour-of-stretching-and-yoga-every-am” type stuff.

I often get applauded for my self discipline. The way I stick to my laid out daily plans and have hardly faltered should a month go by (aside from “early-to-bed-early-to-rise”; I’m a major sucker for staying up super late to get my daily to-do’s done and forcing myself for the almost dawnside arisal as well). But it can be fucking deliberating; if I don’t live up to a self-imposed rule, I feel immense failure in myself and it hits me pretty hard.

I always hear of people living by the 80-20 mantra in relation to diet and lifestyle. You know, the 80 per cent good, 20 per cent living a little and letting loose. I never really understood that – I mean, why not aim for 100 per cent all the time? – but being more aware of how my rigidity affects each and every day of mine, I’m starting to really get it.

Rather than deem them “resolutions”, I’m reappellationing mine intentions for 2018. And they’re not the norm; they’re probably in polarisation to what most may map out. My top three are, 1. Not being so overly organised. 2. Being a bit lazy here and there. And, 3. Be a bit more 80-20, ideally on the food front as well. (I guess most others would be upping their more health conscious consumption, where my aim is to somewhat lower mine).

The Pedaller and I had a fantastic NY. Although there had been talks of Queenstown for the 31st, nothing came to fruition within a few weeks before so I thought the motion was deceased in the h20. But come Christmas Day he pulled the, “Should we book flights?” and I found myself wholeheartedly ok-ing. (How delicious is spontaneouity?!).

So we flew down the 30. Hung with his pals (and caught up with a fair few of mine down there for some revelling) that evening and following into 31. Watched the fireworks as 2018 hit the clock, then were in bed at 12.10am for a 6.30 wake-up to hit the road home.

You see, The Pedaller loves his vehicles and had purchased a 1984 Ford Falcon from Q-town itself. (I’ve named it Whethers; the colour of one of the infamous hard toffees, the car has also only had one owner its entire life and is therefore original to its core). So we decided taking the Aussie Cadillac a fair length of the country home was the way to do things. (He uploaded an Insta of me and the car at Tekapo captioned, “the Falcon and the Cougar”. I’ll give him that – that was rather funny).

It was 11 hours to Picton where we stopped for some dinner (Kaikoura road having just been opened, The Pedaller said the slips that had kept it closed for so long were absolutely manic. I cannot confirm nor disagree – I ’twas asleep at the time). On the 11.30pm ferry, we hit Wellington harbour at a fresh 3am, and continued onwards to Hawke’s Bay (where The Pedaller’s parents live. I fell asleep before Johnsonville and woke up 30min from home, so couldn’t tell you how that leg went). (I swear I wasn’t asleep the entire time – I did drive about one-27th of the journey myself).

A day and a half there, then we continued up to Tauranga where I had a wedding (torrential downpour the entire time, can only hope no nipples appear in the wedding pics on part of all the females present including myself) and The Pedaller rode across the Kaimais back to Cambridge and then headed back to Hawke’s Bay the following am with his new ute (yes, another car – this one headed back down to sell on).

Do you know how free I felt not having my diary dictating my days until the 4th? (It was firmly encased in the boot – of the car, not hiking – with set instructions not to let me have it until then). Or how thrilling it felt to have a day off of exercise and not feel stabbing pangs of guilt? And how bloody good are fries as you hit back a cider with some friends? Or a little bowl of rhubarb crumble when with your boyfriend’s family after a bloody delicious dinner?

Yea. 2018 for myself is none of this, “new year, new me” hoo-haa. I am who I am and I’ve come to accept the areas here to stay and those I wish to somewhat modify. Over thinking everything is definitely top of the list to go as well as building a bit more self belief, but 80-20 is the mantra for me to adopt to ensure I enjoy my being a whole lot more.

I’m 26 (dare I admit it) and life is currently pulling me a lot of different ways. There is a increasing want to perhaps look at buying some sort of property, but there is also a huge hankering to trip to Africa and head up Kilimanjaro. I feel maybe the journalism realm is ready to be launched into (was so close to doing so in late December when the ideal role was in reach, by the lingering uncertainty made me pull a no on it), but then I also want to get into this yoga teaching business (with a back pack of that built up self belief we talked about).

All I know is that I’m not going to overthink, write copious amounts of pros and cons lists and agonise over it; I’m going to take it as it comes, makes decisions that feel right and not those I feel I ought to be doing. And live 80-20; if one morning the option comes to hang with a pal instead of doing my set hour of asanas, then so be it, with no form of self repercussion. I have a fab life and it’s time to stop taking the good for granted.

Yes, 80-20 it is. Maybe even with a couple of fries and some rhubarb crumble to follow.


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