You are so lucky.

It is not luck.

It never was.

“You are so lucky that you travel so much!” – No, I just don’t spend money on crap or mortgage but travel instead.
“You are so lucky to have time for running!” – Maybe if I would see my husband more often, then I wouldn’t.
“Oh but you are so lucky you got the job!” – Well I was trying to get it since months.
“You are so lucky you live here!” – Oh, am I?!
“You are so lucky… “

No, I’m not. It wouldn’t happen if I would be sitting in the corner.

And I haven’t realised it until I was explicitly told:

You are not lucky. You are here because you worked for it.

We tend to believe that we can have the life from fairy tale. Or these days: from Instagram. To live in grey-toned living room, sleep on 20 cushions, have happy puppy jumping around us and eat rainbow porridge for breakfast.

I, for example, drink my coffee in the darkness sitting on the couch, under two blankets and angry half-asleep cat. I drag my bum off the sofa and go to work. Sometimes “I’m lucky” to leave house 15 minutes earlier and then I run to work. To make myself lucky. And clap hands.

“I’m so lucky” to have corporate job. With all the benefits, private insurance and free – yet disgusting – coffee. I’m lucky because after all I’m European. And when I came here to this Great Land of England the only job I could get was in the kitchen. Cutting veg and preparing salads. I was lucky to get a job as I only had master degree in translations, post graduate studies in PR, spoke 5 languages and was working in accountancy in Poland for 3 years beforehand. I was lucky to have any job. I was lucky to live in tiny little room and I was so lucky that I had no space to unpack my luggage for whole 10 months I was there. After 3 months cutting veg I was so lucky to jump around that I was actually promoted to assistant manager. I was really lucky as I worked my ass off yet it didn’t work out. Because I’m not competitive. Because I hate confrontations. Because when things get bad, I just back off. I wait long enough to get annoyed but not long enough to get hurt. Then I go. And I left. I was lucky to have no job and no will to stay in the Land of England. Great one.

So I made a plan. Plan that no one believed in. And I was lucky and get it done. I was lucky to get job in Warsaw, Poland. I was lucky to have friend who let me stay in his flat. I was lucky my husband didn’t broke up with me and followed me. I was lucky to have corporate job. Then I was lucky getting myself job transfer to UK.

And this is the moment when even I got bored of the words “”I was lucky.” I was never lucky. Everything I got, everything I did. All of it. I created it myself. Yes, there were great people around me. But maybe I attracted them, maybe I spoke with them, maybe I smiled at them. I made friends, I lost some. If it won’t be for my quiet stubborn little me, I will still be back home in Slovakia not even knowing I might be missing on something. And that would be alright. Yet that won’t be me.

It is 5pm. After 8 hours in my corporate job wearing some absurd “smart” clothes I’m so lucky to go home.

But because I decided not to sit in the corner, I will be leaving my corporate job next Friday.

And once again I have a crazy plan – no one will ever believe in – for next year.

Because I’m not lucky, because I try!

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