Rules for a fresh start
because we could all stand to shake things up once in a while, don't you think?
Ah yes, April 16th, the day famously known for fresh starts… right? I don’t know about you but writing a list of resolutions and goals on January 1st just seems so overdone these days. Where’s the challenge in that? Where’s the excitement? I say it’s time to spice things up a bit. And so I am declaring April 16th (or literally any day other than the first of Jan) the ideal time to wipe the board clean and start afresh.
Ok well maybe I’m being a bit self-centred. Maybe the only reason I’m considering the truly holy nature of a new beginning is because I just moved my entire life from Sydney to the Gold Coast. Whatever. Sue me!
I think a fresh start can mean so many things. It could be new home, yes, but it could also be starting a new job, trying out a new hobby or learning that skill you’ve always wanted to master. It could be getting into a new romantic relationship or friendship, or getting out of one that’s gone stale. It could be recommitting to writing weekly articles for your Substack. A fresh start is for that new habit that you hope will finally stick.
I don’t think I’m the only one around here in need of shaking their life up every so often. So here are my rules for a fresh start.
Daydream first, plan second
I was introduced to the concept of the ‘vision board’ when I was about eight years old. My mum sat my sister and I down at the kitchen table with a box of old magazine, some very blunt scissors and my trusty glue stick. We were instructed to cut out any images or words that spoke to us and to arrange them on the page in a way that represented the life we aspired to one day. I’m not exactly sure why my mum thought it was a good idea for an eight year old to be looking through the minefield that were women’s magazines in the early 2000s but that’s besides the point.
In high school, Tumblr was where I went to daydream. I spent hours reblogging images of girls in frilly dresses and hightop Converse, inspirational dribble slapped across athletes wearing colourful Nike Pro’s and tanned surfy bros (does anyone remember the show Slide because omg Brendan Thwaites might have been my first crush).
These days, Pinterest has the monopoly on daydream-worthy content.
The first and often undervalued step in creating any fresh start is to daydream. I define daydreaming as aimlessly thinking or pondering about all the possible (and sometimes nearly impossible) options. You don’t have to do this by sitting at your desk and gazing out the window (although if you work a corporate 9-5 then why not win some of your time back by brainstorming your next adventure).
I like to do my daydreaming while I walk or run outside. For optimal results leave the headphones at home. I find that if I go wander around until I get bored, and then continue past the initial discomfort of boredom then I can really start to use my imagination to design my new and improved life.
It’s far too easy these days to view someone else’s life online and jump to conclusions that it must be better that what we have. Which can so easily spiral into launching a seven-step plan to get exactly what they have by like, yesterday. And then you scroll down to the next post where you see some other girl on holiday in Europe, or moving to London, or renovating a farmhouse in the countryside. Suddenly you’ve ditched plan A and come up with an even more elaborate idea on how to emulate someone else’s dream life.
Daydreaming let’s your mind slow down. It let’s you hear the thoughts that are whirling around and gives you the space to actually consider what you want deep down. It’s important to take the time to weed out the surface level ideas that simply tickle some sort of jealousy and uncover your true desires that align with your values and that might lead you to a more fulfilling life.
So my advice is to spend a little more time with your own thoughts, daydreaming and sitting in the uncertainty of boredom, before you declare that you’re moving to Italy to pick grapes or become a scuba instructor in Hawaii (although both of these sound quite fun).
Take it slow
My flight to Milwaukee, Wisconsin was scheduled at 2.30pm on a Wednesday afternoon. I had recently graduated high school and had made the enormous decision to move to the US to be a Division 1 college athlete. The night before my flight I did not yet have my visa, my passport was in a courier van somewhere in between Sydney and Adelaide and my suitcase was entirely empty. Most student-athletes sign their collegiate contracts two, three, four years before they graduate high school. I signed mine four weeks before the semester started.
Most of my Big Life Decisions have been made in a rush. I quit swimming, the sport I’d loved my whole life, the week the idea planted itself in my mind. I dropped out of a university degree the day I got a sick feeling in my stomach. And once, I decided whole-heartedly that I needed to cut a full fringe while I was sitting in the hairdresser’s chair (that one was catastrophic). I used to tell myself that I was just good at decision making, that I had strong gut instincts, that I was adaptable and resilient and eager to start whatever new venture excited me. However, with each of these hasty transformations came unforeseen challenge, heartache and regret.
This move to the Gold Coast was not like that at all. The process was drawn out and at times, honestly, painfully slow. And that’s all because I’m older and wiser now (read: I have a boyfriend who is actually grounded, never in a rush and who doesn’t fear taking his time).
When Hamish and I sat down to discuss the timeline for this move I was captain of team ‘let’s-move-ASAP!’ (January? February? March at the latest, surely). Frustratingly, Hamish continued to tell people we wouldn’t be moving until April. Then, halfway through March, a cyclone unexpectedly hit the Gold Coast, and I was suddenly thankful we hadn’t listened to my ideas and were safe at home in Sydney.
Slowing down the process before making a change gives you time to process what is about to occur. For me, this meant I could tell the family I was nannying about my plans and I could say goodbye to the children who meant so much to me. It meant that I could call friends and ask how they had felt during their moves. It meant I could talk to my psychologist about any fears or worries I was having prior to uprooting my life and learn tools to help adjust to change more smoothly. Hamish and I also made a Sydney summer bucket list that meant we had enormous amount of fun ticking off items in the months leading up to the move.
Slowing down can be uncomfortable at times but when it comes to creating a fresh start that lasts then I believe it is so worthwhile as it allowed for better planning, emotional processing and more celebration.
Celebrate every little thing
On that note, my next piece of advice is the celebrate everything, be that big or small.
You know those parties you used to have at the end of the school term, where someone would bring a bag of salt and vinegar chips, someone else would bring a packet of Tim Tam’s and if you were lucky the teacher would let you watch 45 minutes of a movie instead of doing any schoolwork. Fun, right? Well, I hate to admit this but I used to think these mini celebrations were so lame. I would’ve rather done schoolwork (is there any wonder that I became a teacher honestly…). But to me, the end of the term seemed a silly thing to celebrate. We’d be back in two weeks anyway. Why waste our time, energy and hard earned pocket money on something so frivolous?
I don’t know what’s changed in me. Whether the mundane nature of adult life just got to me or maybe I just stopped caring about my grades so much but now any excuse for a little excitement and a choccie biccy feels deeply important.
Over the past month I have made an effort to celebrate as much as possible. A week before the move Hamish and I went to the pub with some friends to say goodbye. A friend baked us the gooiest, richest chocolate cake that we devoured at 7.30am after a sweaty run. I shed a somewhat embarrassing tear when I left Centennial Park for the final time. That place holds a special place in my heart. It was the place I walked for hours and hours and hours at during Covid lockdowns, where I gossiped with girlfriends about the boys we had crushes on and the track I ran countless laps of training for two marathons. I saved a bottle of Prosecco to share with Hamish when we finally sank into the couch after moving our entire life to this new city. And we ate pizza watching the sunset over the waves on a school night (weeknights will never not feel like school nights to me) just to make sure we soaked it all in.
Celebrating is not silly and it is most certainly not a waste of time. It doesn’t need to be reserved for ‘big moments’ like promotions or milestone birthdays. You don’t have to get dressed up and invite every person you’ve ever known to a fully catered event, complete with a DJ and a dance floor (however, if you do feel the need to organise an event like this please invite me!). I do think there is value in doing something a little bit special to honour certain moments throughout life. Celebrating is like dragging a bright yellow highlighter across an event in your life to signify that it means something to you, that it’s something you want to remember when you look back at your life in the years to come.
Write cards
I’m not 100% sure that I subscribe to the idea of love languages but if I did then I would guess that mine are typically quality time and physical touch. Gift giving would definitely come in last place. It is not something that comes naturally to me. Something about giving and receiving gifts makes my skin crawl. I’m always worried the person won’t like the gift I got them, that they’ll be disappointed. How do you ever know if you’ve spent the right amount of money? And don’t even get me started on the horror that is opening gifts in front of other people. Even when I like the gift I never feel like I can get the facial expression right.
My solution: write cards.
I have a cardboard box that is filled to the brim with cards. Some are from family members filled with birthday wishes. Some are little love notes from Valentine’s Days passed. Most of them are addressed to Ms Putna - sweet, messy, handmade cards, covered in cartoon drawings of my cats, filled with spelling mistakes (I was a good teacher but I’m not God okay). Looking through these cards is like a warm embrace.
I just think there is something so incredibly special about a card. It is so simple and yet holds such profound sentiment. If you are like me and the idea of giving a gift gives you the heebie-jeebies (or you can’t bare to buy one more scented candle or box of chocolates) then try writing a card.
Low expectations, high standards
When I was a kid, there was nothing more magical than getting an advent calendar at Christmas time. But on December 1st, all I ever wanted to do was to rip open the colourful little doors and inhale every last piece of chocolate in one go. However, much to my dismay at the time, I was forced to wait, pealing only one door each day, allowed to savour only a single mouthful of chocolatey goodness at a time. By Christmas Eve however I would be thankful that I had gotten to enjoy an entire month of treats rather than greedily consuming them all in one go.
Alfred Hitchcock, one of the most influential directors in cinema, was famous for slowing down his writer’s room. Each time the writers would wrestle their way through a plot, finally ready to write the resolution to their scripts Hitchcock would halt work, demanding everyone join him for a lavish long lunch that would keep everyone from working for the rest of the day. What Hitchcock knew, and that the less experienced writers did not, was that progress is slow and that truly great things need time to marinate. If you rush to the finish line you often miss the opportunity to use your imagination, to push the boundaries, to consider wacky or outlandish or near-but-not-quite-impossible options, and thus end up with a final product that falls short of its potential.
Change does not happen overnight. Even the most thought-out, precisely planned transformations take time to eventuate.
Just because you quit that job you hated doesn’t mean you’ll wake up with your dream career the next day. Moving overseas can’t instantly cure your social anxiety or rid you of wanting to text your ex. Starting a new workout routine won’t give you abs by the end of the week. A fresh start might be the jolt awake that sends you in a new direction but I warn you to set your expectations low. Please know that anything worth having is worth waiting for. Take the leap, jump into the deep end and then be patient.
Don’t let this discourage you. I believe we should all be aiming high. Dream of the ideal life that you would be proud and excited to lead, and then let go of all expectations and see how life surprises you along the way.
So there you have it - my rules for a fresh start. Take ten minutes out of your busy day to dream about what truly resonates with you. Make a plan and then slow it down to hear what else your heart might be trying to tell you. Celebrate every little win. Write cards. Surrender to the fact that change happens slowly but that it’s worth it in the end. And finally, never decide to get a fringe on a whim. You will regret it and it will take far longer to grown out than you think it will.