The Messy Middle

I’m in the throes of an evolution — from Linda of yesterday to the new Linda of the future. I have no issue with either of them. I may grieve YesterLinda because she finally realized that the past had been holding her back — looking back and regretting past actions or inactions, laying fists upon her psyche for the what-ifs and what should have beens. If only I hadn’t self-sabotaged, or even realizing that I was self-sabotaging out of fear.

This fear held many forms and showed many faces: in school, handing in assignments late or not at all because what if I didn’t understand the subject matter as much as I thought I had; at work, showing up 5 or 10 minutes late because it had taken all of my strength to get out of bed; taking on projects that I was excited about and dropping the ball on them because I considered myself to be just playing around and I really wasn’t that good, was I? To think positively seemed vain. I’d try, only to be found out as the fraud I was.

I don’t grieve the Linda of the Future because she hasn’t happened yet. She is still shiny, new, and full of promise. What I most fear is the Messy Middle, the transition, the Present Linda, because she’s in uncharted territory, and it’s scary, damn it!

I had a breakdown yesterday. Tears, panic attack, full head, vomiting. The whole works. It wasn’t over anything bad or sad. It was over progress, and fear, and that ugly devil on my shoulder saying, “You are forking out money, taking a huge chance on yourself, and have no guarantee it will work. Why are you airy-fairying about instead of getting a job that will bring in money, not send it out…”

The little voice that screamed, “You’re an idiot, you’ll fail, who will buy into the persona that you’re a writer, an author, or whatever you want to call it… it’s a hobby, not a career. What are you thinking?!?!”

Some call it the Devil on Your Shoulder or the inner critic (but that sounds too generic, nice, and almost acceptable, but it really isn’t). I call it Margaret.

Now, I’m not blaming my mother. She was the by-product of her mother, and her mother was the by-product of her mother, and so on and so on — until it doesn’t. And that’s where I am right now — amid an evolution, learning from the past, striving towards the future, and damn right terrified of the right now. Because it’s new, it’s changing behaviours, it’s taking one step at a time, being terrified every step of the way, but taking that step anyway. My mentor says it’s a process and it’s scary, but the triumph is in the journey — of looking at those fears, those doubts, those inner Margarets — and moving forward despite the terror. And, according to my mentor, I’m crushing it. It’s unfortunate that I’m yet to feel it. Yet.

I have a friend, well an internet friend named Josh. Years ago, battling depression, he tried to wrap himself (and his car) around a wall, with the car traveling 70 miles per hour because he could not see a happy future. He was mired in the muck, in his own personal hell. Miraculously, he survived that attempt to kill himself and leave the world a much sadder place. Instead, he took one day at a time, one step at a time, or in his case, one pedal at a time, to get healthy, and to focus on another goal — to ride his bike around the world. In December, he was in the home stretch. After several attempts, the formerly unhealthy Josh was in America, traveling through Texas when he was hit from behind while he was finishing his miles for the day. The plan was to finish America before Christmas and then cycle from Paris to Scotland to complete the tour, the last of several attempts, and he was just so close!

Ironically, the car that hit him was traveling… wait for it… 70 miles per hour. He was catapulted off of his bike and flew 50 metres from the road, where he sustained life-threatening injuries, which included a punctured lung, several broken ribs, a broken ankle and heel, as well as issues with an artery delivering blood to his brain. In short, he was in rough shape, thousands of miles from his home and family — in a vast country in a place where he knew no one. Months of recovery followed, first in the hospital, where doctors were shocked at the speed in which Josh recovered from his substantial injuries, injuries that would have devastated anyone who did not have Josh’s mental fortitude and winning attitude. Rehab in Texas followed, before he was cleared to fly home to Scotland to continue his recovery and subsequent return to his cycling goal.

Fast forward to today. Josh still has to finish his world bike tour (and he will once this pandemic lessens its hold on our travel restrictions and life returns to its new normal), but he’s taken on a new goal to become the world champion in the race of all races, the Tour Du France. He’s changed his training, he’s altered his eating regime, he’s taken on a whole new set of challenges, and he’s been consistently on point with his message — to keep moving forward, no matter the challenge. Whether it’s riding around the world (he was amassing a total of 200 miles per day in Australia and America) or if it’s winning the world’s most prestigious cycling title — he keeps moving forward towards his goal, his laser focus does not stray. He has good days, bad days, and absolutely dismal days, but what remains constant is his iron will and dedication to make every day count towards his goal, and in becoming a much stronger, healthier version of himself. He’s no longer that massively depressed person who saw no other way out than to take his life. He’s in the middle of his journey, the mucky middle, and he’s in transition to becoming the best version of himself for his next evolution.

It might be the messy middle now, but oh, man, the future remains bright. For Josh. For me. For anyone who is presently ensconced in the middle. One day, one step — keep moving forward.