I came here to sit and write a post. Something to go live tomorrow morning while I recover from what will most certainly be a late night. In a coffee shop that specialises in chocolate, I’ll let it remain nameless. It’s freezing in here. I wonder if that’s for the chocolate or because the day today was hot but the evening is not.

Reaching for my notepad full of blog post ideas, after a little too quickly draining the latte I ordered, I realise it’s still in the car. The pages of notes and scribbles without them ideas elude me. There’s nothing here but me thinking about that notebook, the cold chill and the Christmas carols that are being piped through the sound system.

Perhaps I should return to my car, pop into the bathrooms and tidy up before dinner. There’s no rush really, I’m early and waiting it out. It is a beautiful afternoon outside, the sun has dipped behind the row of shops throwing a gorgeous afternoon light. I know if Hubby was here now it would make for beautiful photos. I know that stuff now. Funny the difference 18 months makes.

I was asked the other day what I was doing with myself these days. Before I could finish the blog explanation (which really needs to be refined apparently, it’s wordy and boring!) they asked if I was modelling. “Ha! I said, errr no. That’s just photos for my blog. We take those”. Awkward now I sipped heavily on the drink I had in my hand. “Modelling, no” I reinforced with a firm shake of my head.

But it sort of is, they said, you wear clothes, get photographed in the hope people might buy them. I nodded, it seemed to be the simplest explanation of the business end of things here. Then you model, they said. Matter of factly and I’m sure noting the surprised look on my face. I wouldn’t be adding THAT to my business card any time soon. Weird.

I was perplexed. Can you imagine growing up your whole life thinking you were one thing and finding out, in your thirties none the less, that you are another. I’m a blogger, part time real estate helper, model of clothes I like (apparently), author, content creator, social media strategist, wife, daughter, sister, aunt and wanna be mother…

I’m confusing. Not confused. Confusing. I think it’s hard to explain me and what I do. The roles I play and the things I do. I find it hard enough to switch between the hats myself. I miss being retired, let me tell you that. I miss waking up and the day was mine. The choice of what to wear, when to wear it was mine. I miss that. I blogged a lot then too, of course, I loved that. As I type this little random ramble, as it tumbles from my mind, I want that back.

I don’t need much if I can spend my days how I please. I’m pretty low maintenance. Just don’t tell that to my newly manicured brows and blow-dried hair (What? I had a long wait today!). I don’t need the finer things in life if I have my freedom. Not to be dramatic or anything. But it’s true. Give me freedom or give me death!

Whoops. That last bit WAS dramatic.

So I look for mentors and guides. I consider my options, plot and plan. Then I remember that I’ve been sitting here too long now. I’m pretty sure my glass was cleared a while ago. My arms and ankles tingle with the cold. I’ve passed the time. Just as I hoped I would. Quickly, doing something I love, easily. And now I go.

But not before you tell me, what do you value most of all? Freedom or security? Consistency or the unknown?

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