Know what you don’t want

I don’t have regrets.

The closest I have ever been to regretting anything, was my 1-year long weekend diploma in editing (back in Poland) which I paid for myself (spending all my savings) and which I passionately hated. The entirety of it, to the point that I actually repressed the whole thing. It was one of the worst academic experiences I have ever had. But still, from perspective, I wouldn’t say I regret it. You bet I could have spent that amount of money on a trip to Australia, which was my big dream back then. But my ultimate lesson here is that if I didn’t do this stupid diploma, I would never know – not for sure at least – that becoming an editor is not a feasible option for me. And I clearly did think so beforehand. If there really was anything “worth” regretting, it would be putting up with this hateful bullshit to the very end, even though I knew I’m never going to go anywhere near editing ever again. Instead of listening to myself, I let other people’s voices convince me that it “may become useful later”. Well, it didn’t.

But this was Ania from a lifetime ago, with so little trust in herself, and with all those big, life-altering lessons still ahead of her – I’d cut her some slack. She did best she could.

What I learnt from my anger

I have always been a very impulsive and emotional person. I’ve always felt things before I knew or understood them. I’ve always seemed to feel stronger and deeper than anyone else around me, just as I’ve been getting affected by other people’s emotions way more than anyone else. Emotional landscape was quite naturally my kind of world.

Of course, over the course of my life I’ve been led to believe that this is undesirable, unhealthy, childish, irrational, hysterical, problematic – all sorts of bad, really. It got hammered into my head that I need to change it, hide it, withhold it. My parents, while they’ve always meant well and wished nothing but the best for me, managed to convince me I have some anger issues (I don’t). That I’m too loud, too direct, too vulgar and no one will ever want me that way.

And yet, even though I tried hard, I could never successfully supress my emotions, be this restrained, levelled “adult” people expected me to be. Sure it caused one hell of an inner conflict and laid out solid basis for most of my existential crises in coming years. I’ve been conditioned to believe that my natural sensitivity and emotionality are bad, at best unwelcomed. And so I kept them to myself, consequently denying myself the right to be vulnerable in front of the others.

Loads of bullshit that I now have a doubtful pleasure to unlearn.

Must admit though: it teaches me A LOT.

It’s hard to live easily

The title of this blogpost is a rough translation of a favourite saying that my friend Kuba (who also took the above picture) repeats all-the-bloody-time, like a broken record. I don’t even remember when and how it all started, because it’s been going on for years. No matter what situation we find ourselves in, it always fits. The ultimate truth about life: what looks easy never is easy. Ironically, if you really want an easy life, you have to put a lot of work and effort into it.

Duh, things never just become easy, you have to work hard on making them easier.

Emotions are ought to be felt

Boys don’t cry and girls are hysterical: two notions we all grow up with that inevitably mess up our relationships with emotions. We subconsciously learn it’s immature, silly, childish or irrational to show emotions, but mature, strong and rational to suppress them. Emotions are commonly believed to stand in the way of reason: they blur the vision.

Don’t be so dramatic. Man up. Calm down. You’re overreacting. Be an adult about this.

Deep down I have always felt that it’s loads of crap. There is no such thing as “bad” emotion – all emotions are equally important, valid and needed. And contrary to popular belief, heart does not defy the reason – giving up on either leads to nothing but misery. We’ve all seen it, possibly even lived through some version of it. Those are the fattest lies in the adulthood book.