I’ve been in Amsterdam just over a month now and, let’s be honest, it’s a month I’ve spent feeling sorry for myself and eating too much consolatory chocolate. Seriously; I’ve got into the habit of scoffing an entire 180g bar of chocolate most days; short-term pleasure and long-term love handles guaranteed.
I’ve played the victim card at every turn, even though I knew it would be a tough move because: A) every big move is tough emotionally and financially and at times, even physically — I had so much luggage; and B) I was kind of unprepared for anything when I arrived.
The result is, I’ve spent four weeks feeling like a real life Tiny Tears doll. I’ve moaned and whined and cried and thought about how unfair life is.
In a month I’ve moved six times, I’ve been physically assaulted, I’ve had a short-lived, overly intense and ultimately terrible relationship of sorts, I’ve had my bike stolen and I’ve tried to learn a new job, too. It’s been ... intense. And I have been a little diva about it.
But something clicked when my bike got stolen last weekend. I stood there looking at the empty space where I had left it chained to a railing overnight and I thought to myself, “You can either fall apart and then buy a new bike, or just suck it up and buy a new bike.”
It reminded me of the advice my friend gave me when we were cycling from Bangkok to Singapore. One day it was searing hot and we were inching up a mountain in the lowest gear. We had 100km to go that day and it felt as if we’d never get there.
I stopped my bike and burst into tears. My friend gave me some of the best advice I’ve ever had. “You can either stand on the mountain and cry, or you can get pedalling and get off the mountain quicker.” That advice can apply to pretty much every occasion when you’re feeling sorry for yourself. The only way to get off the mountain is to carry on pedalling.
Also, what am I really moaning about anyway? I’m living in one of the coolest cities in Europe doing a super cool job and commuting to work by bike. I’m living my dream. When I think about how lucky I am and how much fuss I’ve made this month, I feel like a spoiled brat. I’m drawing a line under it and, from now on, life gets fun.
This morning I left my beautiful flat to cycle in a chilly and beautiful autumnal Amsterdam morning to the office. I ate a crusty croissant for breakfast, sipped fresh coffee and drank a cold pressed juice. I arrived at my desk to do my dream job and, this evening I’m going to my new gym, where there’s a weightlifting competition on (pretty much a dream way for me to spend an evening). So really; what am I moaning about?
I think it helps me to stop believing the “karma” hype. Nope, being a good person won’t stop me getting my bike stolen — but an extra lock might.
Life is sweeter when you’re not thinking everything’s out to get you.
