I’m thinking about taking a step backwards. That’s backwards; not back. Consciously choosing to give up the hard-earned luxuries or standards I’ve already long become used to, things that I’ve stopped regarding as ‘luxuries’ altogether because they’ve become such expected elements of my life. And why? Certainly not for some noble monk-type reason. To feel something again, I guess? To chase ambition, to chase a dream. To chase something more.
But the reality of stepping backwards means reintroducing an old way of life; one that you not only thought you’d outgrown, but one you’d thought you’d never have to think about again. You’ve already had the long exhalation and let go of it, like a bad dream. Sometimes, when I recall those times in my life in stories to other people, I laugh and say it feels like I’m talking about a book I once read, rather than my own life. That’s how dissociative it becomes.
It’s possible that we grip onto this feeling of “look at how far I’ve come” as a comfort when it feels like life doesn’t sit right; just look at how stable I am, the things I have achieved, the doors that have opened for me. It’s in our nature to self-soothe when this cognitive dissonance presents itself. But the self-soothing has stopped working for me, lately. Why does it feel like I have less opportunities available to me than I did before - before when I had close to nothing, and everything seemed so far away? Why does it feel like the more “success” I accrued, the narrower my path forward became?
I’m watching Better Call Saul at the moment, the critically acclaimed spin-off of Vince Gilligan’s Breaking Bad. The series focuses on the character Jimmy McGill and his backstory, exploring how he became the lawyer we later come to know as Saul Goodman. In season 2, he gives up an incredible job at a large and well-respected law firm; it’s a job he shouldn’t have really had, anyway. He didn’t painstakingly climb the corporate ladder to get there, and he’s considered incredibly lucky by the people around him to have gotten it. His new workplace gives him a nice car, a corporate apartment, a partner-track position. Even an audaciously-requested Cocobolo desk. But Jimmy just can’t… sit still. “I’m a square peg,” he says with a shrug and a wry smile on his way out. He goes back to where he was in the beginning of the show - in a hybrid living/working situation out of a tiny closet at the back of a nail salon, sleeping on a pull-out, and stealing cups of cucumber water meant for the nail salon customers when the owner wasn’t looking. But, he lives with himself.
I wonder if maybe, the glamorous idea of giving it all up to be your “true self” could possibly have some merit to it, outside of Hollywood and fictional stories. Choosing authenticity over comfort. In 2026, living in Melbourne, could it?
“Cozzie livs” has become synonymous with almost every complaint or grievance held by people my age over the last several years. The scramble-for-economic-footing most of us have had to dance has been exhausting at best, devastating at worst, and life-changing nearly always. The futures we thought we’d have for ourselves quickly evaporated amongst the rising house prices and geopolitical uncertainty, and unpredictable and volatile markets make a few fortunate people billionaires overnight while making countless others homeless. It’s all too tenuous, like walking on a tightrope just to maintain some semblance of a life. It’s no wonder, then, that we tend to regard this idea of giving it all up to be “true to yourself” as embarrassingly childish with how out of touch with reality it is.
Surely, the trade-off is rarely worth it in real life. Because real life is paying taxes, and buying wedding presents, and doing the laundry, and organising health insurance, and weekly grocery shops, and servicing your car, and cleaning the house. I don’t know if it can be any other way, especially now that I’m here, years deep into the thick of it all. And I’m too old to buy into the Eat Pray Love of it all - I know that even if I run away to Italy, life will still be right there with me. Yet I know I’m not alone in wondering; what’s the point in this rat race if none of us are going to make it, anyway?
—————
I know that there can be a certain glamour to the idea of slumming it; working hard and overtime, thinking outside the box, using your wits because you don’t have access to any other resources. There’s a humble integrity to it, the story of the underdog. But ask anyone who’s been through a true struggle, a true poverty, and they’ll quickly tell you there’s nothing glamorous about it. There was a time in my life when I was anything but comfortable; estranged from my family, sleeping on different couches, abusive boyfriend, working unpaid internships, emaciated and using found coins to buy McDonalds fries for lunch. I was in survival mode, absolutely. I wouldn’t wish to go back there at all. But why was I so fearless back then? Why can’t I access that part of myself now?
At my most vulnerable, I was somehow my most resilient. Maybe because I had no other choice. In my early 20s, the weight of expectations from society at large were easy to throw my head back and scoff at; I was on my own path, individualistic, and heady with the ego of a young creative person who hadn’t yet been swallowed by self-consciousness or a self-preservation drive. I had nothing to lose; but now, I have things to lose. Each home I have lived in was slightly larger and nicer than the last, each hair salon I’ve changed to slightly more expensive, and the hobbies that I now derive so much of my identity from require driving across town and paying for classes and equipment and materials. These are all things that make me look in the mirror with a smug smile, a sense of self-satisfaction. This is the well-rounded life I have achieved for myself. How much of that - that quality of life I have incrementally work towards - is worth giving up? And moreover, how will I know if it’s worth it?
Even Jimmy McGill couldn’t deny that, outside of the fancy firm job validating him as a worthy lawyer, and validating him as worthy to the people around him - he had it, unquestionably, good. A decent and comfortable roof over your head, a safe and respectable car, and the ability to go out to lunch somewhere semi-nice are all objectively good things that should not be taken for granted.
—————
There’s no real-life precedent, really, for purposefully taking a step backwards. At least, not in my immediate surrounds. How can we afford to, really? Those of us at this age lucky enough to be in somewhat stable, corporate roles aren’t even dreaming of leaving them for something paying less - when the cost of the roof over your head and the food on your plate is so high, you have to do everything you possibly can just to have something discretionary to spare. How that discretionary money is allocated, of course - on nice clothing and holidays or experiences, on a mortgage, on a child’s tuition - becomes a decision with that much more weight to it. You can’t have it all; so think wisely about what you want and what’s most important to you.
For people like me, there’s also the burden of fulfilling obligations (whether real or imagined, conscious or subconsiocus) towards the people who raised you. It would be like a slap in the face (or so I imagine) to my family, should I give up what I’ve worked hard to earn. When you have doting parents or grandparents, some of whom may not be around for much longer, the feeling that your life decisions should honour their wishes can be insidiously engrained within you - often so deeply that you don’t recognise what your own wishes are from theirs. I’m often struggling to distinguish if I want something for me, or if I want it because it will improve my standing in the eyes of my family, and give them the peace of knowing the sacrifices they made for me were worth it.
I am fearful of my own selfishness, and how my decisions have a ripple effect on the people around me; we don’t live in a vacuum, and even the choices we make solely for ourselves still impact the people around us. I don’t want to hurt anyone. If you have dependents, well, that’s a whole other ballpark and I can’t even begin to fathom that level of responsibility. My own cross to bear is that I feel like my life is not so much mine as it is the result of the hard work of all the people who raised me, supported me, and believed in me enough to get me here. What I have now, I owe to them.
And so, I am all too aware of how parents and their friends talk - “Oh, ours bought a house!”, “Ours is pregnant again!”, “Ours just proposed, they’re organising the engagement party!”. I know my parents must, I’m sure somewhat guiltily, feel embarrassed that they can’t share any exciting news on my behalf. I’m not married or engaged, nor own a house, nor have children on the horizon - likely ever. Their daughter is the 30 year old lady with a cat, who drives a beat up old 2003 Nissan, with no decent life savings in her account. The idea of me choosing to take a step backwards - for example, giving up my corporate 9 to 5 as a copywriter - would terrify them. It’s already so hard out there, why make it harder on myself? And anyway, didn’t I once dream of writing full time?
Am I allowed to change my dream, or am I being too greedy?
It occurs to me, that maybe I don’t even want to step backwards; maybe I’m just intrigued by the idea that it’s something I could be allowed to do. Maybe I just like the idea of it being a choice I can make, because it would be an undeniable sign that my life is my own. I picture neon lights in my head flashing, ‘MINE’, ‘MINE’, ‘MINE’. Maybe my life can be mine, but at what cost? And how do I make peace with that cost?
—————
Despite all of that, I think it’s still just me chickening out. “I don’t actually want to step backwards, I just want to know I have the choice to begin with!”. And so, what? I pat myself on the back, and go on as I was before? I’m starting to thing that taking a step backwards is less of a choice I either can or cannot make for myself, and instead, one that I must.
Maybe I’m allowed to ask, instead, “what if it all works out?”.