A shelf of shoulds

Today I made a coffee, just an instant (a girl has to make do some days) and when I poured in the milk the coffee immediately curdled. Me, being an idiot needed to taste the milk just to be sure it was off. After 4 minutes of vomiting I can confirm it was. I think that’s what regret tastes like. Sour, vomit inducing milk. 

There has been a lot of talk recently, certainly in the circles I’m involved with about a concept called “self-love”. The idea of loving and accepting who we are and testing ourselves well. I’ve liked the idea, I certainly know that I need to work on who I talk to myself and treat myself but honestly, it’s really something I’ve added to my list of shoulds. 

My list of shoulds change from day to day. They include but are not limited to: 

• make my bed each day
• Eat clean
• Exercise 
• Find an NHS doctor
• Go to the dentist 
• Pluck my brows
• Love myself 
• Save money
• Blog more
• Devise a pedicure routine
• Devise a maintenance routine (how do girls stay put together and still, you know, live?) 
• Finish all the unfinished books in my phone
• Call my mum more
• Call friends
• Make new friends 

Everyone has these lists. Things that they know they should be doing instead of reading blogs, watching Netflix, eating ice cream or picking theirtoes. But as life gets busy, as we make commitments to work, family and friends we often put the “shoulds” on the shelf. 

Sadly, we often leave the shoulds on the shelf so long they become “could’ves”. 

I’ve spent my life with a shelf full of “shoulds”. In fact when I lived alone for a year I realised I had accumulated a whole spare room full of “could’ves”. Including but not limited to: 

• exercise equipment 
• Clothes that didn’t fit I had never returned 
• Clothes I no longer fit because I could’ve exercised more
• Half completed craft activities
• Decor for an event business I could’ve put more work into
• Gardening equipment for a garden I could’ve kept alive

You won’t believe how big my bulk rubbish was before I moved out. So much money down the drain. 

My best friend moved to England 10 years ago. Every second year she would come home for Christmas. We would catch up and I would say “I’m going to save and come and see you, I just need to save”. We would talk about what I was going to do when I got there. And then every year I would never make it a reality. I should’ve saved a little each week. I could’ve gone and saw her while she was in England. She lived there for 5 years. But it became a sour could’ve I had put on the shelf. 

As you get older you begin to realise that time passes anyway. Whether you save or don’t, the time will pass. If you exercise or don’t, the same time will pass. You will still be standing there in 5 days, 5 months, 5 years and be wondering why you didn’t just do a little bit day to day. 

I am reading an amazing book “Girl Wash Your Face” by Rachel Hollis. The first chapter talks about the promises you make to yourself. How she has made the decision to be the last person she breaks a promise to rather then the first. How if you decide that you are not going to let yourself down, that you will be someone who follows through you really start to focus on your commitment. Instead of saying yes to 100 things that week and then not really committing to any of them, your start to value your time and word and commit solidly to a few things. 

So this is what I have decided to do. I’m unpacking my giant bag of “Shoulds” I packed with me from Perth. I’m going to lay them all out and decide what 4 things I can commit to. The rest, I’m throwing in the bin. Because when you love someone you are committed to them, you don’t want to let them down and you don’t lie to them. I’m changing my “shoulds” to “I am committed to’s”. I am choosing to respect my decisions and value them. 

I chose the commitments based on my past regrets. What, if I don’t do it now, will I regret the most once it’s sour? The thing that was the most important was not missing my friends wedding in December. So that is my number one thing I am not breaking a promise about. 

P.S - not all my should’ves have turned to sour could’ves. I did end up visiting my friend. 9 years after she moved, I visited her. She now lives in France and deciding to visit her was the catalyst for the biggest move I ever made a year later. So you know, it was totally worth taking that one off the shelf. 

I looked down... a confession of my wickedness

“Excuse me. I hate to in-in-interrupt everyone’s night but I find myself homeless and without food and I was wondering if anyone had some change or food they m-m-might have spare,” stuttered the young man with dishevelled sandy blonde hair as he held out a shaking hand holding a paper cup. His other hand nervously tapped a pattern against his thigh as the man, not even in his late 20s looked down onto the floor. 

I looked up at the two young men sitting opposite me on the train and one looked back at me. Then we both looked down at our feet.

I wondered if I should, having been told that people ask for change to see you take out your wallet to snatch it. No. That was silly. I was on a crowded and moving train. That wasn’t his intention.

I remembered then that I had only grabbed my bank card that night, I had no change. I had no food to give. 

A young lady next to me handed over some money. A lady behind me reached into her shopping bag for a sandwich and pressed it into his hand.

I continued to look down. 

“Thank you,” he said as he got off at the next stop. 

I continued to look down. 

Shame coursed through my body and expressing itself through the hot liquid welling in my eye. 

I missed my stop. Still I sat there frozen. 

****

This moment haunts me still, days later I think about that man. He eloquent English accent. He stutter. His embarrassment. What dignity he would have to lose to find him self begging for change. For scraps of food. And I, with every benefit and privilege known to man, could not even look him in the eye as a human. 

No, I had no money to give him. But I had the ability to acknowledge him human to human and instead, in fear, I looked down. 

I very well could be in a similar situation if I didn’t have parents who have supported me financially and emotionally. I dread to think where I would be without a mum that made me hand out resumes and pushed me get my first job. I certainly not be in London without knowing that nothing could ever go so terribly wrong that I couldn’t call a family member or friend to help me out. The difference between him and me? While I’m locationally alone. He’s terribly, terribly alone. 

And the reason that what I did was so beyond wrong? So shameful? I had an opportunity to give him a moment where he could connect with a human and not, for that split second, be so terribly alone. And I chose fear over love. I chose myself over him. 

*****

All I can think is that it has to be different next time. I have to be different. 

I’m not sure what it will look like but I’ve started small. 

I’ve packed muesli bars in my bag as well as a section for loose change. 

I’ve decided to look people in the eye and speak to them. If given the opportunity I’ve decided to ask their name and give them mine. I’ve decided to give a little dignity back. 

The social implications of why, how and what they will do with the money is a factor for some. I’ve decided to not let it be a factor for me. As the saying goes. “There but for the grace of God go I”. 

It’s only the beginning. Perhaps I will find a way to make a bigger impact. I just know this, it takes so little to give someone respect. 

Today, on my way to the tube I looked a young man with a scruffy beard and a paper cup and offered him a muesli bar. He looked into blue-green eyes and I looked into blue-as-an-English summer eyes. I acknowledged his humanity. 

I wonder where he sleeps tonight with this thunderstorm crashing down. I hope his belly is less hungry. 

I will not, I can not, continue to look down. I challenge you too. Make a decision to offer someone your respect that hasn’t earnt it. Because we all deserve it. 

Why I’m leaving you...

When I was young my mum took me to a swimming pool. In one of the deep pools, there was a high diving board. I looked at it and in typical Shannon fashion I immediately walked towards it and started climbing up the rungs in the ladder. Higher and higher I climbed and then I stood at the top. I slowly walked out to the edge and stood as the board swayed in the wind, bouncing back and forth by the weight of my 11 year old body. I froze. I hadn’t realised how high it really was. I didn’t realise how far I had to fall. I slowly backed up and holding on so tightly to the railing, I tried to turn around and go down the stairs. A boy was half way up the ladder and was very upset with me for making him go down again. I didn’t care. There was no way I was taking that leap. The rest of the day I watched the big boys jump off the high dive while I swam in the water. I thought I was brave. I wasn’t brave enough that day. 

Being brave is hard. 

3 years ago I went on a trip to Thailand. We went snorkelling through coral, diving off the sides of boats, kayaking through low tide swamps, quad biking and white water rafting. I saw tourist sitting back, staying in the boats, sitting by the shore. I saw them missing out on all the fun. This time I was the brave one. 

Being brave is fun. 

Through a series of events I know that my next daring feat is making a move to London. It’s been in the pipeline for a while. Spurred on by the right conversations with the right people, the community that is gathering at Kingdomcity London, unquestionable support from family and friends and now the loss of my safety net (I lost my job on Thursday), I am applying for my visa in a few weeks time. I hope to be in London in under 3 months. 

I feel again like that little girl standing on top of that high dive tower. This time however, there is no going back. I have to make the jump. 

Because I want you to witness the miracle in motion happening in my life right now I have to tell you exactly where I’m at. I don’t as yet have enough money to apply for my visa. I need to apply before the first of April or pay an additional £1000 pounds. Gulp. 

I have so much faith that this will come to pass. God has me, I know it. I just don’t know how or when it will all come together. 

If you want to be a part of my miracle there are some things you can do. 

1. Pray for me. Pray in particular that I will find enough casual work once my job finishes next week. Pray that my visa goes in smoothly and pray that I find a job before I leave. 
2. Buy a cake or cupcakes off me. If you have a party in April or May and would like a cake then let’s chat. 
3. Hire me to babysit on weekends. I’m a professional kid wrangler. Seriously, they don’t get any better. If you don’t have kids I’m happy to be hired to baby sit you. Dinner with hidden veggies, bed time stores and rocking to sleep? Sure! 
4. My friend put together a go fund me page http://gf.me/u/ha5wbx if you feel lead to bless my trip financially.
5. If you see me, give me a hug and tell me that when I make the leap, I will fly.