I have been confronted with mortality a lot this week. A few members of our close knit village community died suddenly this week, and though I wasn’t close to those who died themselves, I found myself overwhelmed with sadness and compassion for their families and loved ones. To the point where I broke down crying for a man I barely knew in the middle of a shopping centre. I’ve always been an incredibly emotional person; I cry at adverts, never mind films and tv shows. I have always felt an almost overwhelming connection with how other people are feeling, and when other people are in pain I can barely keep it together. Anyhow, I have been thinking a lot about life, and how fragile it is, over the past few days.
When I hear that someone I know has died, the following thoughts usually run through my head:
Oh my god, imagine how their poor family feels.
Imagine that happened to my mom/dad/brother/sister/boyfriend. I would NOT be able to cope. Oh god, I wouldn’t be able to live without them.
I should text everyone I know and tell them that I love them.
Imagine someone I loved died just after we had an argument?? I would never get over the guilt.
I’m never going to argue with anyone ever again in case they die before we can make up.
I should start doing more to show the people I love that I love them.
I need to stop getting angry at people for petty things.
I need to focus on the things that make me happy. I could die tomorrow.
I need to stop beating myself up over stupid things. Who cares if I eat a few extra slices of cake every now and then?
But inevitably I go back to my usual self after a while.
Sometimes I have tendency to get wrapped up in very petty negative thoughts – “X doesn’t care because then they wouldn’t cancel plans” “Y didn’t call when like they said they would – What a selfish asshole” “I look like a fat whale in that photo, how in God’s name did I think I looked good??” and a blah blah blahhhh. Poor me. Not.
Sometimes I want to slap myself. I have it so fucking good. So many people would kill to have my ‘problems’. I have big hips? Oh, that must be torture, looking like a woman is supposed to look. I get bored with life sometimes. Well, I suppose I could always drink a bottle of wine and wait for the anxiety and paranoia to kick in! I eat more than I would like to sometimes? I’m lucky to have food to eat in the first place. I can’t get blackout drunk anymore, and I’m only in my twenties?? Wow, it must suck to be one of the lucky ones who have the self awareness to recognise that they are creating their own problems and the sense to try and help themselves. My ‘problems’ are miniscule.
Besides, every ‘problem’ I have is one that I’ve created, and therefore can solve, all by myself. I am the one who chooses to eat too much, to drink and to sit around waiting for life to come to me rather than seizing all of the opportunities out their in the world that could make my life more exciting and meaningful. So, instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself I need to stop eating crap, stop wasting time procrastinating and stop settling for a quiet life. I need to make my own fun. I need to make the changes that I know I need to make in order to feel fulfilled. And I might as well start NOW because I might not always be so lucky as to not have suffered any huge losses or tragedies in my life. I’d rather not wait until it happens.
Sending love to you all.
youngfreesoberme 