Part reflection or musings, part journal or memoir, and part, “What am I doing with my life?” These are some reasons that I want to write. Sometimes, they are the reasons that I must write. Not as a compulsion, I don’t think, but certainly as an instinct.

Because following my instincts or intuition has become a focus for some time. It began last year, when I’d been somewhat stranded between countries from March 2020. You remember … lockdowns and such?

I was travelling in March and had just set off on a 2 month trip when my home country prepared to close its borders. And the country I was going to … Well, who knows? And because I didn’t know, I decided to stay where I was. Safe and sound in a transit country until I could continue my journey. It couldn’t be long, right?

It turned out to be 20 months of waiting. And 22 months until I would be home again, until flights resumed to my home city. I was on the first flight in. But that’s another story.

My story here is about following my intuition. It’s about how I managed to cope reasonably well – or well enough – with all the months of staying ‘in place’. Yes, it was a challenge.

It became more challenging after a few months and then, in June 2020, the ambulance sirens outside became more frequent. I found this triggering – again, another story – and everything was becoming ‘too much’. Too much uncertainty, too much anxiety, too much ‘sameness’ in life. One day was the same as the next. Groundhog days took on a very real meaning.

Now, because there were no external demands on time or activities, I was free to follow my own inclinations. To follow my intuition. I found new practices and rediscovered old ones. To feel grounded, I used qigong. To feel balanced, I used yoga. To feel calmer, I used sound frequencies. If I felt like it, I could do qigong on the balcony at 2 am. So, I did. Whatever, whenever.

My routine became one of ‘no routine’. I could do anything I felt like and at any time. Paradoxically, it was freeing while being in a situation of limitations. Importantly, though, I felt instinctively what I needed, what my body and mind needed, and I did that. I followed my intuition. For me, the main goal was to be in a good state, physically and mentally, when I was finally able to leave. And I did my best …

Of course, it wasn’t as simple or as easy in reality. Life continued to be ‘challenging’ for the whole of 2020. And into 2021, as well. In a way, it was worse because the new year brought no changes. It was worse in 2021 because things were still the same.

Then, after 12 months or so, stress and anxiety were taking a toll. I was suffering from insomnia and borderline hypertension. The doctor was threatening medication if my blood pressure didn’t settle to the ‘normal’ range. And so, quite consciously, I decided to stop worrying. Is this possible? I would have said, no, it’s not, especially since chronic worrying runs in the family. But I did. I really stopped worrying.

I made a decision to think just about where I was, instead of where I wasn’t. I decided to let family and friends back home, my house and everything there, just do without me. Because this was all I could manage. It was all that I could do.

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This is the start of the story of why I write. And why. I haven’t arrived yet the part where I began writing. Other changes would need to happen first …

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Following my instincts right now, along with a sense that I’m losing writing momentum … and also because it’s 5 am, I will pause here.

If I don’t pause now, I’m on my way to writing a book. Or at least, a book chapter 😉

To be continued? Yes, I think so. 😊