#3: A starting entrepreneur in surf — The demons of disbelief, a shoe rack, and an Action Plan.
Tags: Writing, Therapy, Burnout, Indecisiveness, Crisis

Right. So here I am writing in yet another house than the house I wrote my previous story in. It’s a good house. It is built in the 80’s in the Netherlands, and I was raised here. My loving parents (now 73 and 68) have again opened the door to their home for me to sort myself out.

When I arrived, they also opened their arms for what became an awkward, very unfamiliar covid-hug. My sister (a lung doctor) started off accusing me of being irresponsible for hugging mom and dad, the very next Monday we called. That’s a typical Dutch welcome: direct. We hadn’t seen each other for six months, and for the last month I had been living with an utmost decent couple in a remote North Devon coastal village. No signs of covid. My daily routine consisted of walking the dog, and buying a carton of oatmilk at the local grocer. I had no symptoms, but my sister was afraid I might’ve had ‘it’ on me, from the plane, from the Belgian physiology student from Bristol sitting next to me who potentially had it, and spat his germs into my KLM cup of water.

Sorry, I am being cynical now. She is right. My sister is a bit like Hermoine from the Harry Potter series. I’m just so fed up with the pandemic. I am living through my fourth period of isolation this year. First I had the March lockdown (3 months), then I flew to the UK where I had 14 days of self isolation, then the whole month of November UK lockdown, and now another 10 days of self isolation back in Holland.

I did not work in November, apart from cooking, painting a shoe rack and some gardening for my hosts. I started a 120 hours long online language teaching course, a TEFL course, to be able to Teach English as a Foreign Language. It seemed like a good skill to have, especially when abroad, to teach online and get a bit of cashflow coming in. But, I barely worked. Had so much time to think again. And it’s not like October was a banger on the work front either. I coached three or four sessions in October, and then I got lost a bit.

So many planes and edges (..). Satisfying though.

All of this meant that I have had a lot of time to reflect, to do inner work, to do the necessary introspection. The demons of disbelief about my venture were starting to nag me. All this time, not working, seeing my funds evaporate, thinking, over-thinking. ‘An idle mind is the devil’s playground’. And boy it was, and sometimes still is. He’s having a real ball! From self criticism, to complete belief of being a failure, to attracting others who seem in trouble, to distancing myself from those, to meditation, to a bit more peace.. And then, when the ocean seems calm.. A sudden replay of the whole episode again, with the fall-backs, loops of misery coming at me, and indeed, the negative law of attraction folding it’s sick arms around me, keeping me in its grip, until I let go.

‘An idle mind is the devil’s playground.’

Just let go man.. Let go. I even changed my password on my computer to ‘laatlos’ (Dutch for ‘letgo’). Expectations. Laat los. Desires. Let go. Feelings of shame. Laat go. Look in the mirror. See again. You. Deep into your own eyes. You. Let go. What is so important about all the things you want or need? Let it go. I easily identified ten things, people, situations, thoughts, expectations, feelings of shame, or desires that I can let go of.

In my last blogpost I wrote about a purchase of a bad van. This, on top of all the moving around, drained me. I was so fired up this summer, so inspired. I have set up a company with only a mobile phone, a set of earplugs and an internet connection. I have a website online. Have some funding behind me. Loads of people absolutely love the idea. And still.. [Let go.]

I feel a little bit like a character in a Dutch book I once read. It’s called ‘Kaas’ (~’cheese’) I think, and it’s about an entrepreneur who starts a business, and first buys a really nice desk, then a really nice chair. He buys a beautiful ink pencil, and professional letter paper. He hasn’t made money and eventually loses it all because he focussed on the ‘looking like a business man’ instead of ‘get fucking busy man’. Horrible I have to draw this parallel with myself. And when I read all this, it almost gets comical! Maybe that’s what I should do, write about all my failures, and make fun of them. Stand or sit in front of an audience, and tell them all my adventures, sing a few songs with a befriended piano player and get some laughs for a change. [Reading this back makes me really sad and melancholic. Let go.]

Now, the funding was meant for a pathfinding trip. To go scout the other six locations of the surf tour I’m planning. I have Croyde and Newquay done. I feel a little insecure buying a van now. Perhaps I need to stall the entire idea untill I myself feel more secure. It’s winter now! I cannot go on living like this, coming back to my parents when I fail to proceed with this surfing life, settle and/or find myself a job for the winter. [Let go.]

The eight locations of the infamous SACKED Surf Tour.

Today I filed for government benefits. Dutch benefits.

I don’t know what to do. I better get some help. Professional help.

Perhaps I need to go back to therapy.. [sigh].

[After thinking this was the end of this blog post entry] This is therapy. Writing for me is therapy. It has always been. I remember myself in utter confusion about a decision I had to make, and writing saved me.

It was in Rotterdam, in 2012, two years after I graduated, just before I moved to Amsterdam. I had worked as a driver, bringing packages and people from A to B. After two years of doing this, working far below my educational level — I just friggin graduated from one of the best business schools of Europe — I was done with it all. I decided to go play, act on the stage, simply because I loved it, and it seemed enough reason to drop all else. Live for passion. Graduation also burned me out. That’s it! It burned me out. I hated it! I had cunningly sapped out all my creativity to graduate. And then, after an excessive fraternity holiday in Thailand, my resume was picked up by a headhunter online who presented me with a job in The Hague for some organization (with an unbelievable £3.500 p/mo starting salary), which I took and quit after two months because I was simply burned out. I had an existential crisis at age 24. I remember conversations just went through me from one ear to the other. The only thing I could do was friggin drive a car, not being bothered, listening to music and drive long stretches of highway with little responsibility.

Writing for me is therapy.

Anyway, back to the thread. Bare with me. To escape from that driving job I spontaneously bought another ticket to Bangkok, Thailand. And as I was preparing for the trip, buying stuff at outdoor & trekking shops, this tight knot started to appear in my stumoch. I wasn’t making the right decision maybe. The demons played a nice show in my head, and writing brought sanity. I listened to classical music, and writing away all my feelings and thoughts, and also the implications of one decision over the other, I came to a conclusion. It was dramatic. It was like the music and the arguments I wrote down in my laptop came to a final act.

That’s it! It burned me out. (..).

I had cunningly sapped out all my creativity to graduate.

And there it suddenly was. I delivered a decision and an Action Plan. A list of steps to liberate myself from this state of misery and indecision. A tool I had to obey because I birthed it myself. If I decided to reimburse my flight, I had to immediately act upon it, and then do what I needed to do to make me feel more happy. Make a radical change of scene. At that time it was moving to Amsterdam. I think I moved that very same month. My new zest and energy made things go my way. My life sped up after that, and amazing things happened. I moved to a lovely place in the heart of Amsterdam and lived on the attic of an artistic family looking over the canals. With a job in a café, peace of mind, some good wine, and some finely grown, cut, dried, rolled, and burned Amsterdam grass, my creativity spurred, making me suddenly win a design contest of the renowned Amsterdam Dance Festival in October that year, and I lived like there was no tomorrow.

So I guess I need to write a bit more. Come to a decision and make an Action Plan. Take it easy. Practice what I preach. Let go of things that don’t serve me, and at the same time, use that beautiful mind of mine to rationalize, and then do the things I believe I need to do to live a better life. Now.

Take care and do let go.

‘See you on the other side slick.’

[Cooper, Interstellar 2014]

IB.