What if you were given a year and a half off, with a roof over your head, food in your fridge, but you were not allowed to make any money, or leave the country.
Imagine. Would you sleep in and enjoy not having to get up early in the morning? But that gets old right? Or would you work out, to get super fit? But you can’t work out all day every day…
It’s like a never ending COVID lock down, but this time, you’re the only one in it. Those rules don’t apply to anyone else. No, the people around you move on with their lives, they go to work and raise their families.
This is what happened to me.
The first couple of months volunteerwork seemed like a useful way to spend my days. YouTube and Netflix filled the evening, until I went to bed. But deep down inside I was hungry for more. Except, I didn’t have any money, so going for dinner and a movie wasn’t an option.
To me, this time that was given to me, was a curse. I had to wait for yet another year before I could finally start living. Because living is whatever happens after you have a place of your own and a job, at least, that’s what I thought.
But then I spoke to my therapist and he’s like: you need something that tickles your mind. What interests you, what do you really care about? Find out what it is and write about it.
This is when my search really started.
I had been writing all my life, diary entries, school papers, I even had my own blog, which, except for a few friends and acquaintances, no one read. So that was safe ground. But now I had a new challenge: write a piece that would generate some real traffic, before the year and a half were over. And since the time I was given started two months ago, I have one year, three months and nineteen days left. Starting today.
The Surf of Life 