Tell A Tale in 500 Words
Dream- Fields By Brittany Armstrong
My dad always told me that only I could change my life, the only thing standing in my way was me. This was true for most of my life decisions but mother nature had other ideas.
I’ve never had much confidence really, I called it ‘being realistic’ and was a self-confessed pessimist. I never really left the house but every so often I would walk in these fields that were near my house; huge fields that were full of wheat that had grown straight up, taller than you could ever imagine, weeds and heather gliding you along the path, however flat the fields were, it was still full of scenery. The fields were a place I could think, take in more oxygen than my lungs could carry and hypothetically forget all of the problems in my life and let my creativity flow: creativity definitely flew, so many stories came to life but forgetting my troubles was more than I could achieve.
My troubles followed me everywhere, they were the main reason I went to walk in the field really; I left my job after months of chest pains, depressed feelings and high blood pressure tests and so I left but getting another administrative job in the rural countryside, full of farming experts: mechanical farming like tractors, human resources like agricultural specialist and even high street shops for all farming needs etc. Impossible. That is finding a job and at the time, life in general; I felt bad mooching off of my parents who both worked full time jobs, I got the feeling it was not through choice and I was just sat at home all day writing little stories that were never going anywhere, just sat on my desk for all eternity.
Hypochondria was never something I took part in however I was slightly worried about my future, I began getting worried about my future; I got tired and began having chest pains; I didn’t think much of it at first, sometimes I get like that so I took a deep breath and carried on but I decided to turn around after a farmer came out in his tractor, even though he wasn’t blocking my path, I don’t partake in small talk at the best of times so awkwardly walking past a farmer on a tractor who sits and waits until I go passed so I wasn’t planning on changing that so I turned around and walked back.
As I turned to walk away my left arm started hurting which didn’t worry me really, it annoyed me instead, made me quite angry as if nature said I couldn’t even take a peaceful walk successfully which was actually true at the time to be fair to nature but at the time I was not pleased at all. Anger: not the cure for a heart attack apparently.
I woke up in hospital with my parents next to me, gripping my hand as if I was about to fall off the edge of the earth. ‘only a kid’: that’s what they all kept saying, I get it, not many people of my age generally fall down with heart attacks. It was a miracle: having one and surviving one, both of them I did!
Weirdly it boosted my confidence, it knocked my physically health but it gave me self-belief. I could achieve anything.
Against the doctor’s orders I discharged myself, and with a new found sense of optimism I got on a train and headed south. I stayed in London for a few months; I managed to get a job with a newspaper, writing critics of books which led me to my next job as an editor for a publishing company for a year until I launched a book of my own.
My dream that I had given up on, disbelieved would ever come true and worked hard at came true. Part mother nature with a sprinkle of self-determination and finally my dream came true.
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