When Doves Cry

I’ve just been reading tonight that former Sydney Blogger, Mark, is having a bit of a crisis – maybe that’s too strong a word – about his imminent return to Sydney. Mark studied in Sydney last year, but returned to Perth because he wasn’t really that happy here, missing family and friends. I understand this totally, as I felt the same living in Perth. Now, he faces the prospect of returning to Sydney to complete his studies.

His reflections on his blog about the dilemma he faces in addressing the difficulties of finding a balance in life struck a chord with me, so I sent him a message which I hoped might provide some insight, and which I thought I’d share here too, as they are also important issues to me.

(STARTS) Although sometimes I don’t like Sydney – like at the moment, but I’m heading bush this weekend to get some fresh air – deep down I know it’s where I want and need to live.

I think it’s because the small country town in which I grew up doesn’t offer me the freedom Sydney does. And it’s not the cliches you’d think, not the expected stuff, it’s the “choices” Sydney offers, the ability to be me.

When I go home to Lismore, I become “Jimmy” again, the eighteen year old who left there, and who, in the eyes of my family and friends will always be “Jimmy”.

But I don’t want to be Jimmy, I want to be James. Maybe in some ways it’s like Muriel who changed her named to Mariel when she moved to Sydney in “Muriel’s Wedding”.

Sydney offers me the chance to be James, the grownup, to have a life that I can enjoy, and to have the career choices that I can’t back home.

That said, when I was living in Perth, pursuing my career, I felt like I was a thousand miles from home – four thousand kilometres actually – and I often felt alone, although everyone was very friendly.

So I totally understand what you’re saying Mark…

The question you have to ask yourself is where you want to be in five years time, or ten, and what you need to do to get yourself there, fulfilling the desire to balance both work and life. (ENDS)

…and this is what it’s like when doves cry.