If I Ever Feel Better

I was up before sparrow’s fart today to attend the ANZAC Day dawn service at the War Memorial. It’s a bit of a Canberra institution and I’m glad I got to go while I’m still living here. But it really brought home just how soon it is before I leave town (two days, pretty much).

I’m mostly packed and have said goodbye to most of the people and places I’d hoped to. But it still feels like not enough. There’s always the need to have one last coffee or beer with someone, or to see a particular view one last time.

I’ve been talking about leaving Canberra for almost as long as I’ve lived here. And now it’s crunch time, it’s too soon.

It’s my last weekend in Canberra. My housemates have found a replacement for me and I’ve booked a removalist for Friday. Sad in many ways, but an opportunity to get rid of the detritus of years of sharehouse living.

Hence the really large skip I have out the front of my house. The neighbourhood kids have been having a great time rifling through it for treasures.

Personality tests rock my boat and I’m a bit of a junkie for them. Luckily my work paid for us all to do a test called the Hermann Brain Dominance Index the other week and it was interesting and had the added benefit of revealing the interesting quirks of my soon-to-be-ex-co-workers.

One facet that the results explored was whether you are more competitive internally or externally. For me the answer is obvious - internally all the way. There’s no one I judge more harshly than myself and no one that keeps me running harder.

The big problem with interal competition is that it never lets up. Racing another person means you can gain the lead and maybe have a few minutes respite before the race continues. You may even be the clear winner and get to rest on your laurels. Me? Well I never get out in front.

It’s hit me recently in my more self-reflective moments that I denigrate all my achievements in the most effective way possible - I make them irrelevant. When I aspire to something and I make it happen, I then categorise it as being run-of-the-mill. After all, if I can achieve it, then it can’t be too hard, right?

So when people have been congratulating me on my new job, I just shrug. Because even though I was never confident of getting it, and even though I worked hard to impress and get myself over the line, it seems so mundane and banal now.

It was the same with writing. I always wanted to be a writer and I admired anyone who did it. Now I’ve been published in the e-zines I used to look up to, I can’t help feeling that it’s no big deal. They’re not paying gigs after all. Now watch me get paid writing work and start to regard that as the new benchmark…

It’s hard being a compulsive overachiever.

The most common question I’ve faced since telling people about my upcoming move to Sydney is “Have you got a place?” followed closely by “Have you decided where you’re going to live?” I haven’t been able to organise accomodation right now, because I want to get somewhere semi- permanent and I can’t do that sight-unseen. The question of location, though, that I have given a lot of thought.

Where you live has a big impact on your lifestyle, I think. I determines your lifestyle, the hours you spend in traffic, your shopping habits, even your friendships. And Sydney is a notoriously tribal city. Telling people you’re from a specific suburb will shape the way they see you, maybe even more than telling them what you do for a living.

Canberra friends have asked if I’m going to live near work (out in North Ryde) and my response is usually that I’m not leaving Canberra to live in the suburbs. If I’m going to put up with the crap of Sydney (traffic, cost of living etc) I’m bloody well going to take the good (cosmopolitan lifestyle, proximity to the beach, bars and pubs).

There are a lot of factors to consider and I’m lucky enough in that I should have the time to make a good decision. And maybe, just maybe, I can regain the pretentious inner-city lifestyle I used to have in Melbourne!

I had a strange experience today when I checked my email to find a thank you from a friend.  She was saying how much she’d appreciated me coming along to her birthday drinks and talking to everyone.  “You’re really good at meeting new people,” she said.

Funny, I thought, I would have described myself as terrible at meeting new people.  And my mental assessment of the birthday drinks was that I’d been really awkward and unimpressive.

Then I remembered a few things I’ve been trying to drum into my head.  Just because I feel a certain way about a situation, doesn’t make it true.  Well, duh, you say.  But it’s not so simple in my case.  I’ve been telling myself these things for so long now, I don’t actually assess the evidence, I just rely on the running commentary in my head.

So the evidence from the drinks night?  Actually not too bad.   I talked to a whole bunch of different people, the conversations were natural and entertaining, I was there for several hours until most people decided to go and get food.  I did fine.  But I was stopped from really enjoying myself by the nagging sense that I should be better - I should be funnier, more outgoing, more gregarious.

Right now, moving to a new town, I’m going to be meeting a lot of new people.  And I’m going to find it all a lot easier, if I just quit being so hard on myself.

It’s often easier to just start all over again. So here I am with a brand new blog, heading off to a brand new job in a brand new city.

If you’ve been a long-time reader, welcome back. If you’re new and stumbled across this somehow, I hope you like it.