Timor-Leste: A bit of a shit run

Sometimes it’s ok to have a bit of a shit run.  They don’t last forever, but in the midst of one, it can be harder to recognise the beauty of a country that has let you be part of daily life.

If your work feels futile, and at times demoralising, that’s ok.  It happens.  It’s not a personal failing.  Just try to work from home occasionally, with a cat. That helps.

Its ok to feel sad and a bit lost if your best mate who you were about to move in with gets suddenly sent home and you dump your inadequate bf all on the same weekend.  Because you know that it will force you to reach out to new friends, new opportunities, and maybe new men.  But it’s still a bit shit. In the short term, its a bit shit.  And its ok to acknowledge that.

You know its a bit of shit run, when in the midst of all this you get the stomach bug that only allows you relief after vomiting. 48 hours of fun times.  And that moment of clarity when your (now ex) bf expects sex when you are weak and sick.  Yeah, so not great.  But temporary.  Everything is temporary.

It’s ok to not feel super, if the next thing that you are looking forward to is in nine weeks.  Nine weeks.  If you are having a bit of a shit run, nine weeks away is just a tiny speck on the horizon.

Perspective is important if you are having a bit of a shit run. It’s not like this is a significant life-changing shit run.

This isn’t having your brain swell, lungs bleed, and blood carting half the oxygen it should while you ponder your mortality 6000 meters up an isolated mountain.

This isn’t the shit run when you get off the mountain only to see your life and dignity and hope flushed down the toilet during a year of intrusive tests and operations, and specialists and surgeons, not knowing if you’re about to die.

It’s not getting caught up in a political assassination attempt, and cop an IED at your rickshaw, and the mental fall out from that.

It’s not three months of complete lock-down as the city you are in erupts in political violence and death and suffering becomes normalised.

It’s not the moment of fear when you realise you are in way too deep, and perhaps hooking up with a Nigerian drug dealer in Goa was not such a great idea, and oh my god how am I going to get away from this gang and out of India kind of shit run.

It’s not having to walk alone from Bhatapur to Kathmandu through kilometres of rioters, burning tires, and violence. And relief when the military arrive, but also not relief because sometimes the military shoot people in this situation. I don’t know. That was a bit of a shit run too.

This is none of these things. This is just a forgettable little blip that will be over very soon. But it’s still a bit shit, and I’m grateful when a friend gives me a hug, and happy to have the company of an excellent cat, even if he has a fearful reputation, and mates, and coconuts and walks in the beautiful hills, and dinner tonight with excellent people.

These are all good things.

And shit runs don’t last forever.  Actually, they normally don’t last for very long at all.