Me and My Freedom (Part 1)

I find that it’s generally always a bit strange writing a blog post because you are never quite sure if anyone will read it. Luckily! Being an only child I’m quite used to having rambling monologues with myself so I suppose this is no different.

Let me introduce myself to you. My name is Anesu and I’m a….hmmm…. stuck already. I’m a lot of things, I do many things and I love many things. I tend to try avoid introducing myself by talking about what I do and who I am because this changes so often but inevitably those questions always come up. Let’s try again.

My name is Anesu and I’m an explorer. An explorer of life and an explorer of myself. I used to describe myself as a seeker but soon realised that the word seeker implies stopping once you have found what you are looking for…and I aim to never stop.

I was born in the beautiful city of Harare, Zimbabwe. With jacaranda lined streets and people wearing scrunchies and platform flip flops, my memories of Harare are firmly routed in the carefree 90s and my childhood memories always play to the background music of Bob Marley, Sade and Ismail Lo.

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As an only child I enjoyed being alone. I found it easier to be present when I was lost in my imagination without the need to think or cater to anyone else. I was quite headstrong and liked the idea that there was no democracy when it came to choosing what game to play. Having friends over was fun though…I’d just use the unspoken childhood rule of “Its my house so I get to choose the game” to make sure things went according to (my) plan.

I was what you would call a free child. I enjoyed being barefoot and climbing in trees and fishing bugs and crawlies out of our pool to save them felt like my responsibly as my garden’s guardian and super hero.

I made friends easily, loved school and always felt free. So much so that I never once thought that my freedom could be taken away from me or worse yet, that I would give it away.

My life continued in typical “Don’t Worry Be Happy” fashion all the way through school, high school and medical school. I gathered up a few complexes on the way – like being insecure about my looks and being thin, or being confused about being mixed race and not having a clear race and cultural category to give to intrigued strangers…but I remained firmly routed in the feeling that I had the freedom to be whoever I wanted to be and the grounded feeling that my choices where leading me to a future I knew I would love.

I dabbled in competitive sport in high school which morphed into yoga and nature exploring in Uni. Moving my body reminded me of my climbing tree days andI loved the sensation of feeling strong and making use of my slight and stable body.

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In my final year of medical school I decided to do my yoga teacher training in a small and beautiful loft yoga studio called Air Yoga in hip and (then) slightly crummy Woodstock Cape Town. The all white walls and wispy white curtains made me feel like I was in a box of pure light and being a Gemini and air sign, it set the perfect stage for my introduction and then advancement to yoga. I realised back then how important the beauty and feel of a place was to me and Air felt like home.

After doing my yoga teacher training I graduated from medical school. I felt like I was on the cusp of aligning to my purpose of being a hero and wore my dark maroon stethoscope around my neck with pride (and just a pinch of narcissism), however by just the second week of being a Doctor (once the novelty wore off) something started to change.

The bright colours that made up the moments of my life started to fade and brown. My smile felt more and more forced. My heart felt heavy and the freedom I had taken for granted started to feel like it was being squeezed out of me – like a fist squeezing a soft ball of clay. I was the clay.

I knew medicine and internship was supposed to be challenging and I NEVER backed off from a challenge so I tried to shut these feelings off in a small black box and keep going.

As time went by I became more and more morose. The stethoscope that once felt like my talisman of greatness around my neck, now felt like a heavy yoke – a symbol of the burden of my responsibility to put everyone before my happiness just because that’s what doctors do. My freedom was gone and what was worse – I had chosen this path, so it felt like I had given it away.

After months of waking up and crying before going into work I came to a realisation one day that I wasn’t really living anymore and that if I died unexpectedly, staying in medicine would be the biggest regret of my life. So I started looking for a way out.

Around this time I found a post on Facebook asking the questions: “Are you sick of the usual 9 to 5? Are you an innovative thinker wanting to make a difference?” “HELL YES” my heart jumped while I dryly laughed and thought to myself “9 to 5? More like 7am to 1pm the next day!”

I can’t really explain it but it felt like the advert was just for me. It spoke to my soul. To cut a long story relatively short – the post ended up being an advert for a graduate program at a tech company. I applied and got in. It was the way out I was desperately looking for and only lasted a year so technically I could do the program and then return to medicine to finish off my compulsory years if I wanted to.

I didn’t want to. After 12months away from medicine I finally felt some of my freedom coming back. I decided to hang up my steth indefinitely (I’ll come back one day, I thought to myself) and give corporate a go.
I was offered a permanent position in the company, grabbed the opportunity and just after grabbing onto it – about 3months in…I got the craving. Ooo that craving. You know the one I mean! Like in the Chicken Licken advert with those crazy mini Orangutans? I got the craving for something new and I got an idea. I wanted to open up a yoga studio.

My idea was like a tick wedged between my toes – my mind tried to pull it out with the tweezers of reason and practicality but those things had never been a firm part of my make up so they didn’t stick.
I wanted to open up a yoga studio. I had to…my freedom depended on it.

And now lovely reader, this blog has become a bit too long. I’m a bit peckish and I’m sure your mind is keen to concentrate on something else for a while so (don’t kill me):

To be continued…

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