volume one hundred and forty

it’s too late

📍Written from Wathaurong Country (AKA Bacchus Marsh) after an entire night of thunderstorms. This is my favourite sleeping and writing weather. This is the dog’s least favourite weather. We didn’t sleep much but we got lots of cuddles.

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“Would that have been good for you? What if you didn’t lose sight of your dreams? What if you kept going with these pursuits? What would have actually happened?”

These questions came to me recently as I berated myself, yet again, for losing myself for so many years. From the time I could walk and talk and write, I knew what I wanted to do and I knew what I wanted to be. Nothing brought me more joy than playing dress-ups and make-believe and getting into character. I wrote stories — so many stories — in tiny notebooks. I sang my heart out. I wrote songs. I wrote plays and my siblings and cousins and friends would all get parts when they visited. I grew older and was in acting classes. I topped my art classes. I joined singing groups where I was coached and performed on stage. I was cast in the school musical my first year of high school. My electives were always art, music and drama. My English classes saw me getting among the highest grades, especially in my story writing.

Then I discovered Smirnoff Ice and Passion Pop. I discovered boys, or rather how we are “supposed” to behave around them. I discovered the pain-free life of being popular, and although I never attained that, I strived for it very hard. Because, you know, pain-free. I noticed everyone else seemed to spend their nights on MSN gossiping and when we got to school the next day, they all knew something I needed to catch up on. They were not in after-school acting classes.

I slowly — but not slow enough — said goodbye to that Lauren and hello to one who could fit in. This was also the one who could get a job as soon as they were legally allowed to, to support their need for new clothes and weekend beverages.

This led to a pretty successful career in hospitality that led to a very successful career in the entertainment industry.

I have blamed myself for this ever since the lockdowns started. It was then that I slowly lost outside influence and was woken up to myself again. When was the last time I stopped to wonder if this was what I wanted? Had I done that as an adult, ever? Had ego led me this far without stopping? Had I really cared so much about rising up the ladder and getting promotions and pay rises and “the next thing” that I hadn’t cared if it made me happy?

Don’t get me wrong, parts of it did, and for a long time, I was convinced all of it did. I thought I was happy. In this solitude, I uncovered the initial and true source of happiness I shared freely as a child and I have been hanging on for dear life ever since. I do what I can to stay close, and I do not do this alone, thankfully.

During the lockdowns was also when — not too quickly — I was able to sober up. The idea that I had something to contribute to the world, even if it was just my own, especially if it was just my own, helped me wake up to the fact that I had been acting selfishly up until that point and killing myself in the process. How could I enjoy these pleasures if I were dead?

I have no doubt in my mind that if I had continued on the path of creativity and success my ego would have never been stripped. If I had of continued on my path of creativity and never succeeded — because my ego’s idea of success would have been fame — I would have been unbearable. I truly believe I never would have gotten sober and found what that has done for me. Every day I pray for many things, among those “Get into my head before I do”. I don’t even want to think about what my head would have been like if I hadn’t lost it for a while and then come back to it to appreciate it as one of many, many, many.

If I did manage to get sober, I am sure it would not have been my choice and I am scared to think how much worse it might have gotten before it got better. If I had continued on that path, I would never have dreamt up projects that I passionately put out in the world because they light me up — this newsletter and my podcast being them both — and have been adamant that ART IS FOR ALL! Not just those who can “afford” it.

If I had never stepped back, would I have appreciated this all as much or would I have taken it for granted? Who knows. But I do know that now I say thank you every night before I close my eyes.

The first two months of this year were spent with people I love very much. Many homes were opened to me as I toured around catching up on cuddles missed and conversations long overdue. It was busy. It was restless. It took me away from my creativity to give me the time to play in the grass, swim in the ocean, chat over dinner, take long walks, be spontaneous and sit and listen to the wonderful humans I have in my life and hear about what is going on in theirs. It got very comfortable and for a moment my journal entries were contemplating this forever. Saying goodbye to one love to say hello to another.

On the last day of summer, after the last swim of the season, when the water was still just warm enough to dive into by my standards, two of those humans and I climbed into the car ready to head home for our final homecooked meal. Then we all spotted something at the same time, a burst out on the hazy horizon. A sign. The first whale of the year, unseasonably early.

I thought about how that made this all the more magical, and all the more inviting to welcome in this life. We sped (safely) to the next lookout in the direction it was headed. We did this three times, our wet swimmers slowly soaking through our towels and clothes onto the car seats, catching up with the whale’s dance as it veered into what looked like the main beach. Was it planning to stay, too?

At the last moment, it pivoted, headed out towards the ocean and endless waters, heading into the unknown.

As we got into the car I told my friend I knew this was a sign for me. It had to be. My favourite animal showed up on my last day before going out solo again. 

She laughed lovingly and said, “If that is what you want to believe”. I responded “No. It is what I know” and we both smiled and all drove home as the splash faded out of sight — its leaps getting further apart and that said, “I’m leaving and it's time you did, too!”

We both pushed ourselves out into the big world, promising never to leave our dreams behind again. 

The unexpected can always happen — like a global pandemic or a whale in February — timing is everything.

Lovely reader, head into the comments and tell me what’s holding you back from starting now. Why do you think you’re too late? Why is that wrong?

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here are three things i struggled with this week:

🐾 Already broken hearted I need to say goodbye to my current four furry friends, and I haven’t even left them yet.

⏰ Saying “Sorry, I am busy at that time”.

🍵 The temperature drops two degrees and I stop drinking much water. It’s all tea from here on out and that cannot be good.

here are three blessings from this week:

🕷️ Angelica — the huntsman spider — greets me from a different room every morning.

🍛 I made a delicious Sunday curry and now I’ve been eating curry for lunch every day this week.

🤠 Seeing in real time the results of my hard work. Slowly it happened, over time, but it is undeniable.

here are three goals for the coming week:

🖼️ Enjoy my 24 hours in Melbourne. I have some fun Artist Date activities planned!

🕰️ Saying “Sorry, I am busy at that time”.

🖍️ Complete more art, ready for it to see the world! (As of now there are a lot of things just hidden in my sketchbook.) Did you see?

pics or it didn’t happen:

last week you met jack, this week meet his brother buddy

I love you. Now I am off to prepare for my next house sit which is apparently located where they film Home and Away (that is the first thing that has been said the second I have told someone where I am headed). Alf, you there?

🧡, LD (lauren deborah | she/they)

P.S. I am back on the ‘gram. Come say hi?

hilaurendeborah

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