A candid tale of 20-something humanness and extended note to self.

Thursday, 9 April 2015

Patchwork happiness


Sometimes, life presents us with glittering opportunity. Other times, it yells a mighty 'FUCK YOU!'

Oh, good day to you curious pessimism. (Minus the good day part. It isn't a good day. Because 'OH-EM-geeeeeeeeee, everything is SHIT and I am just so saaaaaaaaaaaad!')


We've all been there. We're content, muddling through our day-to-day lives, when (insert loud, disconcerting noise here), something happens. Sometimes, absolutely nothing happens at all (oh, the joys of human fragility), but still, our little world turns on its head, sending us spiralling into a pit of all-encompasing negativity, our gloomy thoughts dancing vigorously in our minds like a bunch of rowdy, uninvited guests at a house party. Welcome to the explicit reality of the human experience, where things can be grand and lovely one moment, and every shade of shitty the next.

There are two ways to deal with these ruts. You let them define you (the past week of my life...yup, guilty), or, you stand up, no matter how hard it is or how terrified you are, and you hold your pretty head up high. You let these ruts empower you. Because guess what? You're alive, and being alive means you still have hope. You always have hope.

You realise that you deserve to be the protagonist of your own beautiful, fucked up little life, and that if you stand up and you shout, 'I am DONE with letting this thing/situation/person/'what if' torture my sorry little mind, give me more of the good stuff!', then perhaps you will find it. You turn your vulnerability, your humanness, into your glittering opportunity. There is always, always, always something worth celebrating, and you owe it to yourself, and to those around you, to find out what that is: to become a tourist of your familiar and focus on those things that punctuate your existence with a sparkle of joy.

Patchwork happiness. That's what I'm calling this. You find those little moments that make your heart giddy. Sitting by the sea.The transition between winter and spring: the way in which the whole world seems re-energised as it awakens with colour around you, and the novelty of finishing work whilst the sun is still shining. Hearing somebody tell you that they love you for the first time, and the second time...And the every time, because seriously, that shit feels good. Taking your bra off after a long day, because you know, BREASTS and the perpetual brilliance of their freedom! Beautiful skies: wispy clouds, a raging sunset, the mad scattering of stars and darkness above and the spectacularity of it all. The first bite of that marmitey toast. The unprecedented joy of a surprise Macarena. Those deep, poignant conversations within which somebody reveals a certain depth or layer that you'd never had the pleasure of seeing or knowing previously: the brain sex that climaxes with everlasting friendship. Those you love and their beautiful, bizarre, grubby souls. The tiny, unexpected gestures of kindness from total strangers and how it feels to be unexpectedly kind to others. Feeling your aliveness swishing around your chubby thighs as you do the greatest cartwheel the world has ever seen. Laughing so hard that you almost do an enthusiastic, uncontrolled wee on the carpet. Thrusting your chest/breast upon another human and treasuring them with your physical entirety, because we all know that CUDDLES ARE GOOD FOR THE SOUL. That feeling when you wake up thinking it's Monday, and then all-of-a-sudden-shitting-YES-and-YAY, you realise it's Saturday and you can snooze into that patch of dribble another four times or cheerfully twiddle your boyfriend's chest fuzz, or embark upon a spontaneous adventure.

Bursts of happiness. They're everywhere really, aren't they? Insignificant and yet so significant, all at once.

And now? Here, have this metaphorical sewing kit. Don't prick yourself on the needle, for that would be counter-productive.You take those moments, your unique patches. You stitch them into a quilt. And then you wrap yourself up in it and you squeeze it really bloody tight around your limbs until you feel okay again.

We're in this shit together, and we're going to be fine.




Let's tweet patchwork happy thoughts: @kathyb5710
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1 comment

  1. This post has helped me as much as it's helped you. Love your words x

    ReplyDelete

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