Day 3

I fell asleep today and woke up at 7:30 a.m., so I didn’t have enough time to go to the gym and be at work by 9:00 a.m. I skipped my morning gym session, and to stay on track with my plan and complete all of my 75 Hard tasks, I went at 15:30. Best decision, terrible timing. I struggled with the combination of a new training plan and an overcrowded gym. I ended the workout early, on the verge of tears. I cried quite a lot when I got home—frustration and anger all mixed together. But then we went for a walk with Mike, and I calmed down. Phrases I need to repeat more often: — It doesn’t matter if I have it all perfect. I’m practicing, and that will always make me better. — It’s okay if I didn’t do it all today. Tomorrow is a new day.

Tricky offering

I'm enrolled to do the Berwick Experience. I can’t define it because I'm not entirely sure what it is. This is the website introduction: "With well-proven success over the past 30 years, Berwick Outdoor Experience supports participants to realise the potential that exists within them. Some 1150 participants from all walks of life have tested their limits and achieved personal goals beyond their imagination." It's the second try, as last year Mike and I were ready to go and it got cancelled because there weren’t enough participants. It costs $800 NZD, and you can be sponsored. My boss said he will sponsor me under the condition that I have to stay a whole year working for him or pay him back if leaving earlier. Just more of the same—this is how he rolls. Are we all like him on different levels? Because I did expect recognition for my hard work. He is convinced that I owe him, but I believe he owes me. Soon I will leave and won’t have to deal with this anymore. Anyway, I said no to his offer. I will apply for sponsorship from Twizel Promotions, and if I don’t get it, I will pay for it.

New training. Day 2.

I dragged myself to the gym because just anticipating that it was going to be something new made me not want to go. There’s a guy who goes at the same time as we do—he’s a beast at lifting. I compare myself and feel ashamed of my weights, but I remind myself that we’re all different. This is me challenging myself. He is a completely different human being. I did the first part, hating it. Then the Clean and Jerk came, and I skipped it because I couldn’t watch the videos and my stress levels were through the roof. I’ll do that at home—record myself, practice, talk to the coach. I came out of the gym frustrated, raging: “I hate this training.” Again: TRUST THE PROCESS. Exciting and challenging times.

Out of the comfort zone

I started a new training. I was slacking with the last one, as it felt more like exercising than training. There wasn’t a goal. I’ve set some goals with my new coach and started the new plan today. I sucked at it. It took me 1.5 hours, I couldn’t finish it, and I got frustrated. But I accept it. I’m out of my comfort zone. I’m trying something new, and my brain and body need to adapt to this new training. I will adapt and grow in the process. My mantra is “I trust the process” and Kassandra’s one: “I did my best today, and that’s enough.” I’m trying to stop punishing myself and start appreciating that I’m trying—and that’s how you evolve.

To live feels pointless. Is not that i want to die, but what's out there for me? Just keep going to work? Nothing makes sense. To move. Not to move. Be good or bad at something. The weather. Who cares? I find everything absurd. Get money. Buy a house. Be a slave. Be on sale. I do not own my time. Life seems boring. Empty. Plain. Save. Spend. Save again. What's the goal? What's the end? Why even bother? Learn to be alone. Find calm. Run from myself.

What am I going to do?

My ex-boyfriend asked me about my life, and I didn't answer. I wonder how many people actually live with purpose, deciding every day, and how many others just go with the flow, look at their lives, and find themselves in a reality they can no longer recognize. How did this happen? I had so many plans, and now I'm paying the mortgage, spending every Saturday driving my teenagers around. I remember clearly being 18 years old, feeling a burning desire to travel, yet an even bigger fear of anything and everything. I used to travel almost two hours daily to work—first walking, then taking the train, then the subway, then walking again. I stared at adults; they seemed unhappy. I told myself that was not going to be my future. But even if I’m not sitting on a subway heading to an office, isn’t this the same? Where is the excitement? Before COVID, I had—for many people—a great job. Sometimes I enjoyed it, but I didn’t love it. I could travel around the country, my schedule was flexible, and I was never bored. But still, I didn’t feel passionate about it. Maybe passion is something we have to force. Maybe some of us weren’t born passionate and need to try harder. I had a boyfriend whom I admired and loved, and we shared a simple, easygoing life. And then I decided to leave. I applied for a working holiday visa, something most people do in their 20s, but for me, it was in my 30s. I got it and bought a ticket to New Zealand. My then-boyfriend supported me but was clear in his decision to stay. The goodbye wasn’t tragic—I had planned a three-month trip to Europe with my sister, so I didn’t feel alone or scared, just extremely excited. I landed in New Zealand in June 2019, and he came in July. We spent a month together that was extremely painful. Every day, every kiss, and every hug tasted like goodbye. And then he left. Long distance didn’t work. I mean, we didn’t work long distance. To me, everything was new; to him, the house was unbearably empty. We talked on different channels, by the end of the year we were no longer the family we used to be, we just couldn’t tune into each other anymore. Life in New Zealand was exciting. I left my beloved Buenos Aires and landed in a tiny town called Twizel. Twizel is a mountain town where we get snow maybe twice a year. It’s down south in the South Island. It has a river and a man-made lake. It was built in 1968 because of the dam, and workers ended up staying. The population is around 2,000, and it is absolutely beautiful. Summers are hot, with long, dry days. In autumn, the town is painted in yellows and reds. Winter freezes everything—it's like a Disney movie where the whole town is covered in ice. And then spring is just breathtaking. You can smell the roselips, the daffodils, and the first rosebuds—it’s like I imagined The Secret Garden would be. Here, I became someone else. But now, I feel like I’m so used to it. When you travel to a new place with a different culture or even a completely different environment, your brain shifts into a new mode. You become like a sponge—your senses are on high alert, taking in everything around you. You see the world with amazement, without judgment, just learning and adapting. I keep thinking about the fact that one day I will die, and I want to truly live before that. I was listening to a podcast today, and the speaker said that the goal in life is happiness. And I thought to myself, Is it? I don’t think so. Happiness comes and goes, just like sadness. I agree with the idea that the real goal is to evolve—to challenge ourselves and grow into better versions of who we are. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.