Last week, a co-worker of mine asked me what I meant when I told him that lately I’ve been feeling the “back-to-school’ vibes in the air. He thought it was interesting because he was in fact going back to school after a hiatus for another degree (which quickly prompted my monkey brain to wonder, should I be doing another degree?), but I was merely referring to how the relaxed summer atmosphere was slowly changing like the weather, and that people’s energy seemed to be more focused and less relaxed.
It’s seems the most natural thing to me to default to the school calendar as the unofficial start to a “new year”. Isn’t that how everyone sees their calendar in western civilization? The year begins in September when students go back to school and the people go back to work. We all push ourselves till December holiday for a little reprieve or added family trauma. Then we head into the liminal space that is February where people don’t know what the fuck to do with themselves or pretend to love Vaentine’s Day and post about it on all our socials. Spring arrives when the women of Amsterdam start biking in skirts again (rokjes dag, it’s a thing, look it up), and before you know it it’s Summer again and people are frantically curating their holidays to produce the best images on instagram.
This September, I feel a bit manic. The last few years I’ve spent in classrooms and lectures, writing papers in libraries and trying to make friends. September with all the back-to-school feels without actually returning to school feels jarring and messy.
Somehow I’ve managed to keep this Substack going just enough to make me feel like an actual writer, but finding the time to write anything else feels laborious and daunting. How do I make time to write in what feels like an already busy schedule? Theoretically I understand that to start anything requires breaking things down into smaller and smaller chunks. But even the chunks seem to float around in my brain like pixie dust beyond my grasp.
Or it’s the pressure of filling those precious days off (sometimes not even full days off, but half-days, hours even) with everything artistic, creative or relaxing. Yeah a day off! I should write a ten page short story, read three chapters in my book, take myself out on a walk, try that recipe I saved social media, have a drink with friends and do a Yin yoga class. But before that should I do the dishes or laundry first..?
I worry that I’ve filled my days with so many things to do, that I haven’t actually invested any time to just be.
Recently I told a friend over the phone that sometimes I think I have a hard time allowing myself to be happy, to allow myself the gift of slowing down without guilt or shame. In a world that often rewards over productivity, it’s hard for me to know when to put on the breaks…
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I’ve always been somewhat of a multi-hyphenate personality. The passion to DJ, to write, my past life as a dancer and performer, my skills as a dance teacher, have always kept me curious and energized.
But deep down I also hoped that at some point all of those things that I love doing would somehow come together into one defining career or vocation, and that all these different identities would finally become one. Finally, I wouldn’t have to be Mark, a writer who also teaches Zumba and DJs on occasion and likes to party. One day, there would be this one job that would encompass all the things I like, and all my passions would align and I could finally just be me.
But at this stage in the game of life, I’m not so sure all my messy identities are ever going to come together. Maybe this is just it: a messy life with different identities and ways of being, multiple jobs on the go, different plates spinning in the air threatening to crash down at any moment. Maybe life is just a series of different things on a to-do lists pulling and prodding at me at different times, demanding equal attention when it’s impossible.
My solution to this is a reframe.What if I could look at myself differently than just a messy creative who can’t seem to focus enough to get his shit together? Instead of making myself feel bad for having different passions on the go I wondered what it could be like if I could look at my life as a quilt. A beautifully colourful blanket with different parts of me woven together, existing alongside one another, complementing each other.
It’s early days yet and I don’t know if this new narrative will hold. I hope it will give me enough grace to breathe through the quiet moments that I’m always rushing to fill or enough space to feel grateful for all the avenues of creativity that keep me curious and give my life meaning.
Life is messy and I don’t think it ever comes together the way we think it should. I just hope I have enough thread to keep all the bits of me together.