It hasn’t stopped raining here. Right now, I can hear the pounding of the rain against the side of the house. Last night, my power went out around eight, and it wasn’t restored until around five in the afternoon today. I’m just thankful it was restored before the months’ worth of frozen cat food went bad, that would have been a real issue. It was honestly a bit terrifying to have the power go out because I just… I didn’t know what to do. Now if this were Durham, I would know that Duke energy would be on it immediately, and if they weren’t, I would’ve called. But I don’t have an Australian phone number (that’s a whole different, complicated story..), and even if I did, I honestly have no idea who I would call or what I would say. Being a foreigner, even in a country that’s in many ways a mirror of America, is still an incredible learning curve. Just like everything else, I’m figuring a lot out as I go.
I talk a big game about how I can do things on my own, how I don’t need anyone, but honestly, it’d be great if someone could do all the difficult, dirty things in life that I don’t want to. Clean the leftover food pieces out of the drain? No thanks. Vacuum out my car? No, I don’t want to do that. Take apart the entire automatically cleaning kitty litter box that you were assured you’d never have to touch? That’s one thing I never, ever wanted to do, but on Friday, that’s exactly what I had to do. I was greeted in the morning to a sound that’s going to haunt my dreams for the foreseeable future: three beeps, a pause, three beeps, a pause, on repeat until the end of time. I walked into the bathroom, looked at the litter box and the buttons, and immediately thought, “Well, that’s not a big deal, it’ll probably fix itself.” I pushed a few buttons, made breakfast and took a call, then went for a rainy hike to a waterfall thirty minutes away. The views were gorgeous, the water was rushing fast, and I was absolutely joyous in my own presence. I found abandoned train tracks and followed them, I ran away from mysterious sounds in the trees, and I shopped at the market. But when I came home, the beeping was still going. The problem had not fixed itself.
Oftentimes, I’ve discovered that I’m the type of person who avoids an issue until it has to be confronted. It’s as if some part of me is convinced that if I ignore a problem long enough, the problem will magically solve itself, and go away. That actually doesn’t happen, it actually gets bigger, and worse, until it blows up in my face. Every. Single. Time. If I would have put the work in and tried to fix the automatic litter box in the first place, I could have come home to a peaceful evening eating tacos and watching Cobra Kai, but I set myself up for a bit of failure. I think there’s a few reasons that I didn’t want to fix the litter box. For starters, that’s disgusting. It was going to smell gross, take a lot of time, and be tedious. But honestly? I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to fix it. The homeowners sent me a YouTube help video, I had all the tools, but I was scared that I would do everything right, put in all the work, and still come up short. After pressing the buttons again and again with no results, I knew no one was going to rescue me out of this. I had to swallow my fear of failing, and I had to try.
Let’s be honest here, this isn’t just about a litter box. This is about being afraid of putting time, effort, and my heart into something, and it still not working out. How many times have I had my heart broken or my dreams crushed, even after I did all I knew to do? I know how it feels to pour my heart into writing a novel, just to have over a hundred agents tell me no. I know how it feels to stand in the pouring rain, begging the person I love to stay, just to have them slam a door in my face. After a while, it’s only natural to believe that my best isn’t good enough. Perhaps sometimes, the reason I push off a task or a conversation, is because I’m trying to protect myself from the way it will inevitably blow up in my face. But avoiding a problem never works, and sooner or later, I need to put the gloves on and clean the litter box. Which is what I did.
I spent over two hours taking that litter box apart to the motor. I cleaned the motor, I cleaned the tubes, I cleaned every possible piece on there until there could be no clog. I set every piece back in place, then I learned how to navigate the settings, do a drainage test, and then set it on for a self-clean. This was all recorded on their camera, and I joked with myself that I swore enough during the process that I should receive an honorary Australian citizenship. There was no joy like finally seeing the lights on indicating the system was running properly. I couldn’t believe it, I’d actually fixed this thing. I did my very best, it worked, and I felt accomplished. I felt more invincible after fixing that motor than I did after running ten miles. I felt like I could achieve anything.
The bright side is, sometimes our best isn’t always good enough, and that’s okay. Because for every rejection or door slammed in our face, there is something to be gained. Getting a hundred rejections on my manuscript didn’t make me a bad writer, if anything, the fact that I self-published proved how deeply I believe in myself as a writer. Having a door slammed in my face after pouring out my heart doesn’t mean I’m unlovable, it just means that there is better love out there for me. We can follow a recipe exact and it can fail one time, then work great the next; that’s how life goes. I don’t want to allow the rejections to keep me from trying, I don’t want the fear of not being enough keep me from trying. Because I fixed this litter box, I moved across the world, and I took myself to a waterfall and loved every minute of the freezing water on my face. My best isn’t always enough, but it doesn’t have to be, I only need to be willing to never stop trying.
Yours Truly,
the Brightside Blonde
Lilydale Falls, filling up my camera role with aforementioned selfies and self-timed photos.
Here’s also me savoring time with a person!! Julie took me on a wine tour down the Tamar River. I have cemented my dislike for reds and love for ciders, and definitely tipsy devoured this charcuterie.