fine
I can't fucking deal with whingers.
As in, people who bitch incessantly about a life they've literally gone to great lengths to create for themselves. They may have their own business but whinge about the hours and stress, or have given up working for themselves in favor of less stress and more stability but complain about their dick-hole boss. They could have ended a relationship that wasn't working but now be miserable they're alone, or finally found someone to share their Coles roast chicken with only to begrudge giving up single life. Either way they're never happy, and blame whatever choice they've made for their lack of contentment. Like seriously, YOU are responsible for the choices you make, so shut the fuck up and get on with it, or don't and do something else. Literally no one cares, which is a fact that has been recently established by me in my last blog if you’re interested, which obviously you are.
Anyway, realising that I was guilty of doing the exact same thing I just ranted about was a bit of a kick in the cunt, but a necessary one, as it caused me to reflect on my journey so far, where I've come from, and to admit that I have literally got everything I've ever wanted and that I should probably be stoked AF right now so to pull my whinging head right back in. As you pause for breath from reading the actual longest sentence ever, let me take you on a journey back to 2012 (I think, but I can’t be sure, which concerns me, especially as I recently forgot how old I was twice in the same day).
It was (about) seven years ago that I moved to Melbourne with a bag of clothes and less than $1000 to my name, most of which I spent at Dangerfield and IKEA (obviously). I began my life in Australia as a chef, working shit-hole hours for a boss who felt the need to call me on my birthday to tell me my Morton Bay bug tortellini weren't to his liking and to abandon the shopping trip I was on (Dangerfield) to come in and fix them. My hobbies at this time were smoking, drinking, shopping, and dating apps. Back then Tinder wasn't even a thing but I made do with some rather terrible specimens sourced from it's predecessor, one of whom has bizarrely recently started following me on Instagram (let it go mate, you're still married and it's still a no from me). Anyway. My point is that my former aspirations weren't particularly inspirational. I haven't spent my entire life trying to excel at everything, or at least in excelling at things that are considered worthwhile by majority decision. Smoking an entire 30 gram pouch of tobacco in one sitting may be an achievement of sorts but thankfully the urge to revisit that challenge has passed and somehow my lungs and I have made it to 2019.
Somehow, in the last seven years, (only three of which were spent in hospitality) I have gone from training my unwilling ex-boyfriend in the local park with one kettle-bell to being in charge of programs for an entire series of leisure centers. I have a successful personal training business outside of this, with wonderful clients who have been with me for years and have loyally followed me from gym to gym. I used to aspire to teach Bodypump, and had the lofty goal to dead-lift my body weight, now my goal which I’m not particularly quiet about is to qualify for weightlifting Nationals. Not so long ago I smoked meth out of a broken light-bulb, now I have actual sponsors, and I'm speaking at a fucking conference in a few weeks, about how to be successful, as if I’m a person that other people can learn that from. It's like an actual fucking fairy tale and when I take the time to really reflect and lay it out like that it seems BEYOND ridiculous that I can ever complain about anything EVER, besides maybe when broccoli is $6.99 a kilo because that is actually ridiculous. Sure, I still feel I've got miles to go, but that's OK, it's not a race, and if it was I'd be walking anyway because fuck cardio. I'm not tryna be all look at me, look at me, but just honestly acknowledging my achievements, and that I actually have nothing to legitimately whinge about.
Remember when you wanted what you currently have. No one said it was going to be easy, and if it is, it probably means you’ve stopped trying. You will feel alone a lot of the time, because you are, it's YOUR fucking journey, and you can't expect anyone else to care as much about you and your various pursuits as you do, coz they are likely balls deep in their own. If they're not, it’s likely they find your relentlessness irritating and will be actively unsupportive, because in their mind your level of drive and ambition reflects poorly on their own. If you are lucky enough to have someone in your life who genuinely does give a fuck though, who puts up with your regular stress-induced rages but gently reminds you that you asked for this, and that chewing an entire pot of gum will definitely not help (because when does shitting a lot ever help anyone) then value the fuck outta that person. Just remember it’s ultimately your race, so stop whinging, broccoli is currently $2.50 a kilo and everything is going to be fucking fine.
