Gone fishing ... just me for now

The river has always been the place where I can lose and find myself. As a guide, it’s a privilege to help others do the same. I’ve been privy to the inner worlds of many people, that intimate stranger who’s safe to be vulnerable around. And I draw my strength to be this person from the surety that the water would always feed my soul and power my dynamo for life. But what happens when you step into a stream and feel nothing? A waterfall of fear and an identity crisis, that’s what. “You love fishing,” my inner voice said. “Did I? Well then, who am I now?”

Searching for the source of who I am

Maybe you’re asking yourself the same question? Or not, and everything still makes sense, and you’ll happily click away from here now (please take me with you!). But for those who also feel like their sense of self is caught in a current, then how about we explore this tricky section together and free ourselves from a force that’s stopping us from swimming. I don’t know about you, but I lose my car keys all the time. After cursing and chasing my own tail, I then retrace my steps and it usually leads me to what I’ve been looking for. So, I’m going to do the same here in the hope it works for this problem.

Happier days earlier in 2021

It all started back in May. I’d had a summer of freedom and fantastic fishing and was on the cusp of starting a new job that I was excited and daunted about in equal measure. I was stepping up and out of my professional comfort zone and it required huge amounts of energy to make it all happen. And then came Covid restrictions, again. Was this the sixth lock down? I actually can’t remember but I know it was a pivotal moment for me. Up until then I’d managed to take refuge in my art and fly fishing to stay motivated and weather the storm of relentless uncertainty. These two pillars of creativity have always been constants I could hold on to that anchor who I am and what I stand for. They cross pollinate my work, my relationships, they are places where my greatest ideas, healing and inspiration come from. But now they’ve been taken away … again.

“Don’t worry,” I said to myself. Keep sketching at your desk, keep dreaming of a river somewhere and you’ll be okay. So, I did, but something scary started to happen - it just started to feel like work. I decided to ignore it and throw myself into the new job instead. However, it offered no comfort and unlike other times in my life, I found that it took so much energy to overcome this awful self-doubt that had started to chip away at me. And now I had nowhere to run. The fly fishing and art that helped me make sense of the world and forget my self-doubt were no longer there and that absence was really hurting me. I started chasing my tail. Round and round I went in this vicious circle: “who the hell am I and what is it that makes me tick anymore?”. 

Where to from here?

In August this year, I made the call not to guide for the 2021-22 season. It felt liberating and lonely all at once. It felt like I was cutting off a piece of myself that I didn’t really want to let go but I had nothing in the tank. I felt huge amounts of shame and anger at myself that I didn’t have the vigour to pick up my part time business along with my other responsibilities and make it work. In my mind, I told myself I'm no longer a guide, I’m no longer an artist - I’m just an employee who’s doing an alright job and managing to pay the bills. Right, well I better contact all the clients who’ve got trips booked in and refund them. With a lump in my throat I wrote to them and told them the truth - I was soul sick and needed a rest. Not one of them treated me like the loser I thought of myself. I got nothing but love and understanding back from them and the hope that one day I’d be able to take them out. If they could let go, then why couldn’t I?

It’s simple, because when you’ve worked so hard to master something and it’s tangled around your identity then it’s so hard to give it up. There is a saying that if you truly love someone then you must let them go, for if they return they were always yours, and if they don’t, they never were. I think the same is true in my case and I just have to be brave enough to let go and accept that it might just take a little time to find my joie de vivre again. I am still a guide, but rather than helping others at the moment I just have to gently coach myself and reach out to others when I need a hand. I am still an artist, but rather than dwelling on the studio time I missed, I need to open up my sketchbook and see how far I’ve come with pencils. While art and fly fishing don’t generate the same buzz they used to, that spark still exists and it just might take a bit of time to get the fires burning again. After the year we’ve had, I guess it’s no surprise. My challenge now is forgiving myself for feeling this way.

My fave spot above the Mitta Mitta

So, where to from here? Well, I’m going to try and get out on the river as often as possible with friends and try and get regular easel time at the studio in 2022. And if it feels hard, I’m just going to gently keep at it because I know good things never come to those who don’t work for it. But most importantly, I’m going to try and get comfortable with the fact that mustering energy and motivation in these strange times is a mammoth task and it’s okay to fall in a heap occasionally. I think if I stop swimming against the current of my own expectations then the river will take me to a kinder and freer place. Hopefully, you’ll see me playing a nice fish with a big smile on my face when I meet you there one day.