The Butterfly Effect

I know you have probably heard this a lot, as well as said it a lot, but let me just remind you; 2020 fucking blows. So far, we have had six months of natural disasters, murders and political chaos. We have had to lock our doors for days at a time, too scared to leave and too scared to let in what lays beyond our four walls. We have had to find solace within ourselves and become our own best friend when we weren’t able to see others. We have learnt about the darkness that resides within the same world that brings so much light, and we have actively been consuming knowledge to help reduce the destruction. It has been a shock to the human psyche to say the least. But through this shock to our natural balance of work, play, sleep and freedom, I believe we have gained a better understanding of reality rather than the cotton candy version we once believed life was. And with this understanding, it is quite easy to realise that we actually, cannot, control shit.

2020 was supposed to be my year to Bloom. Bloom just like Troye Sivan’s hit song; but instead of blooming just for you, I was going to bloom for me. After 2016, 2017, 2018 and 2019 whooping my ass time and time again, I had decided that the new decade was going to be my turning point. And just like that, everything began to fall into place. I had a well-paying, steady job that kept me busy and lead me to becoming financially stable. Enough for me to be able to afford a studio apartment in Potts Point. My favourite suburb and a place to call home, a place to call my own. I got into a healthy routine that ensured I ate well, had plenty of sleep and time to be with my friends. I was writing more, finding inspiration with every step on the streets and was buying furniture. The grey clouds began to split so the sun could smile at me, and I was smiling back.

Corona who? No way, nothing is going to ruin my year.

It is now July and everything I had planned, everything I had calculated, expected and dreamed of, has turned into mist. I am unemployed, relying on a government benefit, having a mental health relapse and to top it all off, I am being forced to leave my dream apartment I worked so hard to make my home. I have to leave my home, my safe space, my nest.

The last week of having to grapple with the icing on the cake, having to find a new apartment and packing up the life I thought would be mine for years to come, has helped me to realise that we really do not control the way our life turns out after all. That no matter how many right or wrong things we do, how well we dress, how much we save, how great our job is, there will always be something we won’t expect to happen that will untangle our world as we know it.

Take a moment to process that.

Now, that isn’t to say we can’t control some aspects of our lives. Because we can. We can control what food we eat, what we wear, how we style our hair. Even what kind of coffee we want, but even THAT is up to the barista to make correctly. Which reaffirms my point, that the majority of the things we do come with variables out of our control, some we didn’t even know existed.

As I now couch hop between friends and relatives for the next two weeks, I am finding it quite humbling coming to the conclusion that there are too many variables in our own individual paths that we have no control over. Accepting that my life will be in disarray for a little while longer, not knowing when it will end, is humbling. Accepting that I have to take every hour as it comes is humbling. Accepting that no matter how hard I try; ultimate control is impossible. And that, is fucking humbling.

Life will never work out the way we want it to. And if you think yours has, I would recommend putting on your seatbelt because you are about to hit turbulence. It is the butterfly effect, whilst at the time we might believe our world is ending, it could in fact be the beginning. That this series of events that seem like torment, are actually causing a ripple in our future reality and opening doors that were once under lock and key. Maybe there is a plan after all, and we just don’t know about it yet. And we might never know.

Just take it one hour at a time right now and trust that the butterfly is sending you a new ripple every time. Even if you don’t like it, you have to accept it. I’ve learnt the hard way.

Stay Fire,

Madeline.