Nanoprep 2023 Day 6: Shut Up & Write!
By Robin de Voh on 2023-10-09
He moved to Amsterdam 3 years ago, during the first year of the pandemic, and that had had an effect on how he actually ended up experiencing that change. Due to lockdown, minimal social engagements, and general fear of getting sick, the change could be described very shortly: supermarket now that direction instead of that one.
He hadn't even planned to move there, but an opportunity suddenly showed up. A coworker was moving from Amsterdam to another city and suddenly went 'Hey! Anyone want my old place, I can recommend someone.", and he decided, on a whim, almost, to say 'Gimme!'.
He'd been unhappy in his then-current apartment, and had been looking for something else, but somehow the idea of paying 50% more for a place 2 streets further away from the center didn't sit right with him. So the opportunity to pay less than that, and also move to Amsterdam? That made sense! Why not! Adventure!
He also took into account that his social life had also started shifting to Amsterdam over the years, hanging out with coworkers, friends he met through them and others, and there were weeks where he'd only be in not-Amsterdam to sleep, then go back to Amsterdam the day after.
He didn't hate where he lived, but it had gotten somewhat boring. Not because it was boring, but he didn't find it interesting anymore. Every weekend had felt too similar for too long, and he did the math -- even if he moved he'd likely see his friends about equally often, due to their busy schedules. And he would always be willing to make the trek over to there anyway.
And as the thought of moving to Amsterdam started settling in, he started dreaming of going to writer meetups, museums, long walks along the canals, and more. Convinced The Big City would offer so much compared to lil' ol' town-he-grew-up-in. Almost 40 years of living in the exact same town had started to rub him the wrong way. He wanted more, and he felt he needed to take a drastic step to achieve that.
In a sense, it was a symptom of a bigger problem, but it'd take him another 2 years before he'd actually realize that bigger problem at all. And he may have romanticized Amsterdam in the process.
So the process of moving was set in motion. In September he said 'I want the place!', in October he went through all the motions to actually fill in all the paperwork and get approved, cleaning up the old apartment, and December 1st he got the key to his new place. He spent that evening in the apartment with a girl who's best forgotten, so he prefers remembering the feeling of seeing the apartment empty and full of potential. On the 6th the movers brought his stuff over, and he slept there for the first time.
That night it became official. He lived there now.
And over the next couple of years, he pretended that was enough. That he had fixed what needed fixin', that he was fine from here on in, but he had not and was not. And a part of him actually knew it, but he found it too difficult to admit to anyone, let alone to himself.
The bigger problem was an unhappiness with life in general. He wasn't just stuck in the same town for 40 years, but he'd been stuck giving everything for his career for 14 years to the detriment of everything else. Every relationship he'd had over the past years had ended up in him disappearing into it, becoming an emotional chameleon to reflect whatever he thought the other wanted back to them. He did not give them the person they had chosen to be with, but instead they got something lesser than that. He didn't know how to be himself, or was afraid to be himself, like it wouldn't be enough.
A self-fulfilling prophecy.
He wrote for 20 days a year only, and he had hit a plateau in creativity and quality. He purchased instruments but didn't play them, bought books so he could not read them, but tell him he was a reader. If he had to choose a single word to describe himself at this point in time, he knew exactly what that word would be.
Stagnant.
And it was frustrating to him, but when you're stuck in the same spot for so long, it's hard to actually move away from it. Your muscles atrophy, you don't really remember how to do it anymore, so you stay. And you curse yourself daily, or whenever the thoughts break through whatever you're doing to try and push it away, but nothing changes.
His social anxiety had not gotten better during the pandemic, so actually trying to join writer groups had become that much harder. Museums had been closed for long enough that he'd almost forgotten they were a thing, and the only thing he'd really started doing over that time was hikes in nature.
And though those were fantastic, and something he very quickly knew he'd keep doing as long and far as he could, they were often solitary, even if he tried to get someone to join him as often as he could.
He moved to do all those things. Then he didn't do all those things. And he was still sitting at home too often, by himself, just like he did in that small town. And he knew that even with all this change, the change was not enough.
He had always had periods where he socialized less, kinda withdrew for a few weeks, sometimes months. He called them his Hermit Periods, but they were something else. Turns out, depression had been hanging around the edges around him for years, but during this time it set in harder than ever, and he didn't even realize.
At one point, he saw 15 problems, and he could only see them all as individual problems. They were too much to handle, so he just didn't. He just let them screw him over, and waited for the inevitable 16th problem to pop up. Until he talked to a friend who was also dealing with a lot, probably even more, and they offered a perspective they didn't even know would end up helping him. He didn't tell his friend it helped him, either, fearing that they'd feel they were appropriating their tough situation somehow.
But the perspective makes it clear that those 15 problems all shared the same root system, like a fungal colony. 15 mushroom caps on top, one giant jumble underground. And by fixing one, the pressure on him would probably start to get less already. So he started doing so. Picking up little things, fixing the smallest of the issues to feel like he's on the path of winning again, and it actually started working.
He started dreaming again. The same dreams, and he realized the problem was that he just had to take the step to start doing them. So he goes to a museum. He starts going on those walks he said he'd do, and he even starts making music again. He starts writing again.
And for the first time in 2 years, he has the mental space to do new things.
He starts working on getting a driving license, so that he can move around freely, and find even better places to hike. And get away from work, but he doesn't claim that's a primary goal. But it is.
And one of those times he's writing, he decides to go to the local library, a beautiful place in this beautiful city of Amsterdam he's hardly experienced. When he gets there, he sees a group of people sitting around a table discussing what they've just written. He remembers that specific thing he wanted. To be part of a group of people, write, and socialize a bit, and start to get more open and transparent about how his writing is actually really important to him. How he identifies with it beyond just saying he likes it, and that it's a hobby for him.
He doesn't just want it to be a hobby. He identifies with it and wants to be identified by it.
He's too awkward to just walk up to them -- a group of writers explicitly there to be with other writers and would completely welcome him in -- but instead he skulks away like a nerdy ninja, and starts looking online for groups similar to that. It made sense to him at the time.,
As he's exiting the library, he finds a writing group that meets next Monday, and signs up and RSVPs yes to it.
And on that Monday, after work, he ignores every single scream in the back of his mind, puts his laptop in his bag, his headphones on, and walks out of his apartment. He double checks his lock twice, probably due to nerves, and sets out.
15 minute walk, 10 minutes subway, 10 minute walk.
And when he arrives, he sits outside for 10 minutes, trying to prevent a forming anxiety attack, because he doesn't know any of these people and what if he's not enough of a writer and what if they don't like him and what if he doesn't like them and what if he sits there and can't actually write anything and what if all of this was a huge mistake and he should have just kept his writing to himself and.. He squeezes his eyes closed and sighs. Relax. So he smokes a cigarette. He knows it's bad, you don't need to remind him, so shush.
After that, he feels somewhat calm again, so he packs up and goes inside, and to the elevator up to the 7th floor. A girl in the elevator holds the door for him, and he sees they're both going to the 7th. She kinda but not really looks like the organizer of the writing group meetup, so since he's not sure, he says nothing. When he goes upstairs, she also goes to the restaurant they'd be meeting up at, but he just grabs a drink and goes hard left, outside, to wait for the appropriate time instead. Because of course he's early.
Ugh. The drink is passion fruit flavor, which I... He. He doesn't really like passion fruit. Too nervous to read the damn label, he thinks to himself.
After about 10 minutes, he looks inside and sees the girl from the elevator now has a small group around her, and he remembered she'd have a sign with the group name on it, so he goes inside and, well now that's awkward.
It was her.
He walks up, smiling faintly, to a chair that's free and happens to be next to her, and puts his bag down, nodding to those at the table.
"Hi, I thought it might be you, but wasn't sure," he says to her.
"I thought so too!"
There was a short introduction round, who are you, what are you writing, etc., so he freely admitted "This is terrifying to me, so I'll be awkward", which gets a chuckle but generally seems to be accepted.
And now he's writing this. And there's an hour to write this, and he just checked the clock, and he's only 23 minutes in and already kinda caught up to the current time, so he'll go back and fill in some details, he guesses.
And with the details filled in, and some early editing applied, he still has 13 minutes left, so he'll just finish a bit early.
This is by far the most meta he's ever been.