Passion is useless without strength

The depth and strength of a human character are defined by its moral reserves.
People reveal themselves completely only when they are thrown out of the customary conditions of their life, for only then do they have to fall back on their reserves.
– Leon Trotsky

There were so many times in my journey where I reflected on my actions and my thoughts and wondered am I a good person? The journey that I’m talking about isn’t a literal one. It’s a journey that a lot of people go through; its one of changing careers. I wasn’t happy being a journalist, that’s why against my better judgment I decided to pursue the idea of becoming an archaeologist, a process which took almost 4 years. When I begun the journey I was filled with a lot of anticipation, aspiration and excitement. I was going to the university of my dreams, I was pursuing the career of my childhood. I’ve heard that saying so many times, “it’s the journey there that counts”,  but is it really? Did I go through so much anxiety, stress, regret, depression, self-loathing for the end goal, to achieve my happy ending?

It was a journey that had been delayed for so long, while I travelled, dabbled in pursuing a writing career, settling down with my boyfriend. But despite this acknowledgement of time wasted, I still wish I had gone about things slightly differently. There were times where I almost had forgotten why I took the journey to begin with, as I fell in out of love with the subject (and with people). I dragged myself along at the worst of times I’m not even sure if it was the PTB or god sometimes, but I often felt like I was being tested; there were plenty of tears, plenty of agonising decisions, insidious thoughts. The problem was someone had stolen my strength, I had lost it and without it I had become a bitter and resentful person.

‘Tis true; life happens, things change. While I was in the most distressing time of my life, I’d lost that focus, the drive, hell I’d even lost the will to wake up in the morning. I wanted to avoid everyone, and all responsibility, and even worse I didn’t want to do archaeology anymore.  The quest had almost stopped, the drive within me had died.  Despite the bitterness I harboured towards many people, there was one person who made sure that drive didn’t die completely that anger and resentment didn’t fully consume me. He would accompany me to study at the British Museum, he would make sure that I had completed my assignments, he even helped me submit my dissertation. I relied on his support because I knew deep down strength isn’t something you are naturally affiliated with. Strength is something you earn, something you gain. Something you have to go through hardship to achieve.  I needed someone who could allow that strength and perseverance to emerge once again.

When I look back even as recently as this year I wonder if the journey had changed me, am I worse person than before? During the hardest of times, my passion and strength were replaced with anger and resentment.  It takes another sort of enemy – yourself – to make you change. While I blamed another person and  drowned in self pity, almost allowing myself to be yielded to it.  My support structure, the one person who had made me realise my own potential, who encouraged me, once told me, “Nothing can bring you peace but yourself.”  He was right, there is great strength in allowing yourself peace.

 

Advertisements

Archaeology saved my life

My life wasn’t by any means terrible, but I had a number of my own demons to deal with while growing up. I had a constant urge to restyle myself, I had deep seeded insecurities from being badly bullied during primary school and secondary school. It wasn’t until the ripe old age of 27 silently twiddling my thumbs under the shrewd eyes of my therapist when I realised that much of my issues had stemmed from extreme bullying. These issues materialised in a constant fear of being judged, of being secluded, and ultimately of being abandoned.

I had tendencies of ‘running away’ when the tough got going, that’s how I dealt with my problems especially the bullying. This running away took me to Japan, where I lived for nearly five years. I had interests, but nothing that I felt utterly passionate about. Life became a cycle of dreary days and spiteful arguments. Not one thing in my life gave me any sort of satisfaction, especially my job. The cycle of running away had some negative impacts on my relationships and work. I had no clue what kind of person I was, because I was constantly running away from myself. My depression had become an aspect of my personality that many thought was just a quirk of mine.

After taking a job as a journalist, I decided to take the leap and study Archaeology at UCL, may be it was the thirst for some kind of adventure that I wanted. I knew my depression at this point had led me to believe that I was again running away from adulthood and responsibility. Whatever the reason I found a foundation in my life that I desperately needed. My first brush with university was nothing but a disaster of bad choices, misty regrets and unhealthy friendships. This time around, I focused on my work and allowed myself to be immersed in my own ideas without fear of rebuttal.

When my depression started to take a grip of me again, I found a sanctuary in the British Museum, learning a new aspect of an ancient culture to silent the dark thoughts in my head. Archaeology had given me a new lease of life, not an escape but a reason to stay. When my depression likes to rear its ugly head, (which it often sometimes does) at least I now have the tools to deal with it (no pun intended).