Amazing isn’t it, dear reader that you and I are still alive.
Dragging, pulling, almost plowing to get through this week? At one point, I felt as if all the air had whooshed out of me and my lungs were going to pop and splatter all over the place like pink bubblegum. I don’t know about you but lately, it has been exhaustingly difficult to carry on.
I’d list all that I’m going through but I’m afraid you might take it as ‘symptoms’ and diagnose me with a ‘condition’. We are so much into our labels that it’s almost..fashionable to come out with depression these days. Of course, diagnosed depression is no joke. But I don’t think something is wrong with me clinically, I’m just down down.
(even if the sky is falling downnnnn ♪♪)
During savasana this morning, the yoga instructor calmly instructs to ‘be in the moment’. It’s extremely hard to be in the moment when you have unnatural blonde streaky hair clamping with sweat on top of your head. My recent birthday saw me straight into the hairdressers. An yearly, obligatory ‘younger’ look visit. I asked for subtle highlights but it’s turned out to be a streaky, yucky, burnt brassy kinda look. And it’s hard to be in the moment when you’ve got an orange mop on your head.
Then I get into work thinking it’ll be an easy Friday with an email from my lawyer waiting. He wants to charge $3000 (quote – not including VAT and disbursements – unquote) for providing me an advice because it’s ‘complicated and involves complex laws’. It’s bad enough that I look like an orange mop but now I’m stupid, too.
I decided that perhaps it was all for the best that I go back home, hide under my bed and get over and done with this week.
Isn’t it bad enough that life tires us to a point where all we want to do is just lie there without even trying to untie our baggages from our ankles that we’ve been dragging. Because it’s easier to lie and wallow for a while and then keep on dragging than to stop and sort our baggages and hurl them away?
Isn’t it bad enough that life brings us to a level so down that use of words are futile?
Isn’t it bad enough that sometimes the ugliest thing in life is you?
Isn’t it bad enough that no matter how hard you try to keep up, life finds a way to make a fool out of you?
Isn’t it bad enough that life take us through all that and we still don’t die?
Yeah. It’s been pretty rough lately. But if I can get out from under my quilts (and untangle myself from wet tissues and lost socks) this Friday evening and write this obscure post and you find yourself here, at end of it – then you and me both, we are still breathing. Still alive. Still here.
We’re just a little down. But tomorrow is Saturday and Saturday is going be a very, very good day (I’ll just have to fix my orange hair!).
What do you have to fix?
p.s A very fitting new Adnan Sami number to have on loop all day. x