I’ve come to the realisation that I may subconsciously attract chaos into my life. We all feel the magnetic attraction to the New Year – the opportunity for change, new beginnings, a fresh start. A chance for us to wipe clean all of our mistakes and poor choices of the previous year. Because it’s January, I’ve chosen to dive head first into some self-reflection. I came to the following conclusions. One – aging isn’t as bad as we think. Two – life is an ebb and flow and you will always return to the mundane. Three – I am addicted to the feeling of a rebuild (and thus, create an intentional life of chaos so I can then fix it). What could possibly go wrong? If my life were a book, that would be the title. And within that book, the main character would continuously self sabotage to ensure that everything fell apart. It’s all for the plot, right?

Turning 26: The panic

Your twenties – they call it the panic years. But truthfully, I had filed away this thought in my mind until this year. In June, on the morning of my 26th birthday, I woke up crying. I realised that real life was about to begin. I’d left high school, finished a degree and a diploma, lived in a different Australian city, and spent over a year travelling and living abroad – now it was time for me to be a grown up. I’ve always loved living freely, with a sense of whimsy, but living that way becomes suffocating when the world tells us we need to do more, be more. You’re reminded that despite all your qualifications and life experience, you still know nothing. You’re not married, you don’t have a house, and you don’t have twins who join you in wearing matching pyjamas on Christmas morning.

Despite these haunting thoughts, I found inspiration in the last six months that has changed my perspective and allowed me to loosen the reins. My mindset shifted from – I am so far behind with nothing to show for myself at the age of 26, to – my life is just beginning. Aging is a privilege. Compared to myself at 20, I have so much more wisdom, confidence, authenticity, and love for myself than I ever could have imagined at that age. And I continue to grow more every year. Going forward, all I need to remember is to be more realistic about where my life is headed and what consistent steps I need to take next.

My home (not really)

After a month of feeling uneasy back in Perth, moving home from London, I spoke to my sister. She knew what it was like to live abroad and return home. She helped me put my emotional ramblings into a word – grief. I thought it was silly – grief to me only existed in people who had lost their loved ones. But I felt off, like there was a hole in my heart that could not be filled by familiarity. It was a craving to be back on the rain-soaked pavement. To feel the rush of the tube as it entered the station. I could never go back to this moment in time – a time when I was 25 and living in London. When I could voice-note my best friend to meet me in Finsbury Park, and the only decision I had to make was which coffee shop to go to.

Wanting to bury this feeling, I found a new job and a room to rent within a matter of weeks. I needed this change – I’d created my rebound life. It was hard to accept the truth that life carries on while you’re not there. It fools you – home is exactly the way you left it, but you’re older, and close relationships feel ever-so-slightly distant. As the months went by, and mid June turned into July, then August and September, I realised that things that are meant for us aren’t always ideal, but are essential for growth. It can also be a stepping stone on the way to where you’re meant to be – an in-between time. I had to learn to let go. To grieve and then move on. The way you fall out with a friend or end a long-term relationship. And I did, slowly.

My pregnancy (not really)

June 29th, 2024: The day of my last period. I’d taken pregnancy tests before, but none that had ever felt like they were going to be positive. And none that ever were positive, until now. I only told half of my family, out of shame and fear of judgement. I wasn’t responsible; I should’ve been stronger and told him we needed to use protection. Reading back over the notes I’d written in my journal, it overwhelmed me to see the pain I went through. I’d never experienced depression until I became pregnant. I’d never longed for something so desperately before, while simultaneously not wanting it. Not allowing myself to want it.

The boy I’d been with had pressured me to keep the baby, despite not having reasons to. I’d always wanted a baby – but I also wanted a family. He didn’t understand how important that part was to me. To have someone who I loved by my side – someone who supported me. And while this couldn’t get through to him, I knew that there were some people out there who understood – “there would be another broken kid from a broken home, and another broken family …” I wanted to give my child the life that they deserved. And while I struggled through the pregnancy and termination, emotionally and physically, I have not had a moment of regret.

My intentional life of chaos

I can’t be the only one who craves change but also struggles to deal with it when it arises. Sometimes I’m convinced that I seek out chaos in an attempt to rebuild (bad relationships, hangovers, uprooting my life in search of a new one). I love the rebuilding stage. I’ve also always loved an underdog. Starting from the bottom, while challenging, has a certain allure. You have to push yourself to get out of the discomfort. I can’t feel happy for too long – it’s boring. Where’s the drama? (Just kidding.) As hard as 2024 was, it built resilience and courage. That’s what the rebuild does. Though, I think I’m done with the drama. For now.

What I’ve learnt

With 2024 coming to a close, I’ve learnt that I want to let go of the chaos life. While moving home is seen, in my eyes, as uneventful and less exhilarating, the time I spend here is necessary. To ground myself again, and to overcome the fears I’ve ignored for too long – a fear of staying the same, not growing up, and living up to expectations of what my life should look like (from myself and others). It’s like I’m giving my childhood room a makeover, but on a bigger scale. A few months after that first conversation with my sister, we had another. I told her I felt like I was having a quarter-life crisis. She shared with me a thought that her friend had shared with her – “it’s not a crisis, it’s a growth spurt”. This year’s growth spurt down, a lot more to go.

Yours,

Kait x

Cover photo by Inga Seliverstova