Finally getting it
Ooh, it's been a while. A very long while, in fact. I've (obviously) had lots of thoughts in that time, and this post is all of them thrown together. Maybe you might be able to relate to some bits.
There's still such an emphasis on romantic partnership as the only way to experience life. Younger generations challenge this more and more, but it does still seem to be very much the default. And in the face of this it's quite difficult to turn this 'life is better experienced with a soulmate' bottom line on its head. The following is what I have so far. As much as you can share yourself and your life with another person, you can never share everything. There will be so much that you experience alone, so many feelings, joy and sadness, that are just yours. I love to write and think that lots of writing is beautiful, but I will admit that there is a certain impossibility about putting certain things into words. You can’t tell anyone the feeling of being stood at the front of a ship and staring at the moon. You can’t tell anyone the feeling of being sat alone on a balcony listening to the tide and your favourite songs washing over you. Even if someone were there with you, you couldn’t tell them the way you felt when you saw bright stars over the ocean after months of living in the city. You’re on your own. And if you relish in that you’ll realise how wonderful you are. How amazing it is that every day is made up of a multitude of things that only you have seen and thought - no one else knows those, no one else gets the privilege of knowing you as well as you do. In the least depressing way - there’s no one to complete you. There’s only people who will enhance your enjoyment and understanding of life and fun and the world. You should hold on to them, appreciate them always, tell them often. Because life is so short.
Every day now for most of my life, I've woken up and had a goal. Not one to achieve that day, but one that was in my head and present and tangible. Although I have always been happy and grateful, that goal would be in my head as a 'I'll be happy when ____". It was getting in to dance college, then being a successful dancer, then getting into university, then getting my degree, then getting an internship, then moving to London, then getting a permanent job, and then moving in with my best friends. There have been no gaps between each of these 'I'll be happy when's'. Whenever I achieved one the next has always been there, each achievement has only been incremental in my overall goal of where I wanted to be. And now - I'm here. And I wasn't ready for what that would feel like. I've always had goals, I've always been an 'I'll be happy when' person. And suddenly - I get it. It's one of those things they always tell you in movies and books and on inspirational cushions - you can choose to be happy. I've ticked a lot of my big things off, things that 'stood in the way' of being content, of being happy on bad days. A bad day with a job you like, living in the city you love, with friends who love you, isn't so much of a bad day after all.
This newfound, and sudden, understanding of what it means to just be happy, is throwing everything else into question. I work for a relatively small cancer charity, where we know a lot of our supporters personally, which makes the days when we lose them very difficult. The longer I work here, the more I become instilled with a very real sense that life is short. Not in a way that makes me scared, paranoid or withdrawn, but in a way that comes into absolutely everything I do. I wake up in the mornings now, and feel with every fibre of my being how lucky I am to be here, and how lucky I am to be waking up with no real heartache or weights on my mind.
The culmination of all of this, the fact that I'm where I've wanted to be for a while now, and the new ever-present reminder of life's fickle nature, has made me rethink lots of things. I've always been a hard worker, a driven person, busy with projects. I still want to be this person, but I also want to make sure I'm not living with anxiety and pressure that I've given myself. I want to make sure that I'm living my life as happy and full as I can, not only for me, but for everyone who didn't make it to my age.
And this is why the emphasis on finding a single romantic partner is so baffling to me. You’re so incredibly lucky if you get to spend half your life, or a decade, or a year with ‘the one’. You're lucky if you get to spend any time at all with someone you love. You’re lucky if you make it to 50. You’re lucky if you make it to 30. Stop with the existential dread and raise a glass to whatever powers that be that exist sat down together and said ‘yeah, go on, let her get to 30’. It's so easy to be blind to how many are denied that privilege.
It sounds so stupid and obvious, but I’ve spent so much of my life looking at the stars and thinking that it means that there’s so much more I can and should be doing. My natural instinct has been to look out at the solar system and think ‘wow I wonder what’s out there. I want more, I want what’s out there’. But there’s no out there. You’re not looking at the solar system. You’re sat in the middle of it. It's so great to want more, to have goals and to see the possibility in the stars, but you are literally part of that just by being here and existing. Go outside, feel the sun on your face and feel the life you've been given.
There's still such an emphasis on romantic partnership as the only way to experience life. Younger generations challenge this more and more, but it does still seem to be very much the default. And in the face of this it's quite difficult to turn this 'life is better experienced with a soulmate' bottom line on its head. The following is what I have so far. As much as you can share yourself and your life with another person, you can never share everything. There will be so much that you experience alone, so many feelings, joy and sadness, that are just yours. I love to write and think that lots of writing is beautiful, but I will admit that there is a certain impossibility about putting certain things into words. You can’t tell anyone the feeling of being stood at the front of a ship and staring at the moon. You can’t tell anyone the feeling of being sat alone on a balcony listening to the tide and your favourite songs washing over you. Even if someone were there with you, you couldn’t tell them the way you felt when you saw bright stars over the ocean after months of living in the city. You’re on your own. And if you relish in that you’ll realise how wonderful you are. How amazing it is that every day is made up of a multitude of things that only you have seen and thought - no one else knows those, no one else gets the privilege of knowing you as well as you do. In the least depressing way - there’s no one to complete you. There’s only people who will enhance your enjoyment and understanding of life and fun and the world. You should hold on to them, appreciate them always, tell them often. Because life is so short.
Every day now for most of my life, I've woken up and had a goal. Not one to achieve that day, but one that was in my head and present and tangible. Although I have always been happy and grateful, that goal would be in my head as a 'I'll be happy when ____". It was getting in to dance college, then being a successful dancer, then getting into university, then getting my degree, then getting an internship, then moving to London, then getting a permanent job, and then moving in with my best friends. There have been no gaps between each of these 'I'll be happy when's'. Whenever I achieved one the next has always been there, each achievement has only been incremental in my overall goal of where I wanted to be. And now - I'm here. And I wasn't ready for what that would feel like. I've always had goals, I've always been an 'I'll be happy when' person. And suddenly - I get it. It's one of those things they always tell you in movies and books and on inspirational cushions - you can choose to be happy. I've ticked a lot of my big things off, things that 'stood in the way' of being content, of being happy on bad days. A bad day with a job you like, living in the city you love, with friends who love you, isn't so much of a bad day after all.
This newfound, and sudden, understanding of what it means to just be happy, is throwing everything else into question. I work for a relatively small cancer charity, where we know a lot of our supporters personally, which makes the days when we lose them very difficult. The longer I work here, the more I become instilled with a very real sense that life is short. Not in a way that makes me scared, paranoid or withdrawn, but in a way that comes into absolutely everything I do. I wake up in the mornings now, and feel with every fibre of my being how lucky I am to be here, and how lucky I am to be waking up with no real heartache or weights on my mind.
The culmination of all of this, the fact that I'm where I've wanted to be for a while now, and the new ever-present reminder of life's fickle nature, has made me rethink lots of things. I've always been a hard worker, a driven person, busy with projects. I still want to be this person, but I also want to make sure I'm not living with anxiety and pressure that I've given myself. I want to make sure that I'm living my life as happy and full as I can, not only for me, but for everyone who didn't make it to my age.
And this is why the emphasis on finding a single romantic partner is so baffling to me. You’re so incredibly lucky if you get to spend half your life, or a decade, or a year with ‘the one’. You're lucky if you get to spend any time at all with someone you love. You’re lucky if you make it to 50. You’re lucky if you make it to 30. Stop with the existential dread and raise a glass to whatever powers that be that exist sat down together and said ‘yeah, go on, let her get to 30’. It's so easy to be blind to how many are denied that privilege.
It sounds so stupid and obvious, but I’ve spent so much of my life looking at the stars and thinking that it means that there’s so much more I can and should be doing. My natural instinct has been to look out at the solar system and think ‘wow I wonder what’s out there. I want more, I want what’s out there’. But there’s no out there. You’re not looking at the solar system. You’re sat in the middle of it. It's so great to want more, to have goals and to see the possibility in the stars, but you are literally part of that just by being here and existing. Go outside, feel the sun on your face and feel the life you've been given.
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