special enough.
as I grow around my grief, I realise that if the year ahead looks like me being cosy in bed safe and warm, that is special enough.
Very unlike me, but I’ve been sleeping til 10am most mornings lately - a sign of how exhausted it’s been this year to live inside my pea sized head. I’ve had this looming back ache too since turning 31 in November, and a neck twinge my boyfriend also acquired when he had reached the age I am now. What is that? A sign of aging I dislike at very least, but maybe it’s my body screaming from the inside out that it’s time to sort my posture, as I gradually resemble the shape of a prawn more and more, year by year. It is 2024 after all. Time to get my act together, not. If you ask me it’s just another day, one that I woke up to alone in my favourite new pink pajamas, feeling, well, not bad actually.
You didn’t ask me, but I want to be clear, I hate the new year. I remember in school someone once told me: how ever you choose to enter the new year will be how you exit, so make sure to spend it wisely, else what’s to follow will be rubbish. The thought of my world collapsing at 16 because I didn’t get totally pissed with my best pals and spend all of the next day a bedridden idiot with leftover makeup running down my face, and sick in my hair, in someone else’s home, is laughable now. I couldn’t think of anything worse. Don’t remember the last time I was hungover honestly.
For the past 8 years I’ve spent this time mostly alone or at least at home, and always definitely in bed well before midnight. As I grow around my grief, I realise that if the year ahead looks like me being cosy in bed safe and warm, that is special enough.
I think we take for granted how lovely the mundane can be. How, just the mere act of sitting quietly with a roof over your head is a gift. Even if like me, you’re one pay check away from losing it all. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, as the world runs riot with festive celebrations, fireworks, food, destruction, corruption, genocide. At the best of times, despite world news, even when you’re surrounded by wonderful people who love you always year by year, it can all feel suffocating. With that, you may find solace alone instead. This I’ve certainly found this year, whilst remembering everyone who loves me will continue to love me always, even if I choose to not celebrate during a season of, in my eyes, fake fun.
And…when it comes to resolution setting, threating about what’s gone or what’s ahead, I take comfort knowing I can choose any day of the week, any time of year to respawn and evaluate. January is a bad time to force a change on your brain or body. It’s literally the most miserable month. Why start it with a hangover, guilt trip or big think? Why not, start it slowly slowlyyyyyy, singing to Mary by the Scissor Sisters, making a coffee and hopping back into bed, just like me. Gregory Porter is also an excellent morning listen, his Christmas Wish album a big hit in my household, although a bit late now. Maybe, even an audiobook by Bob Mortimer - a man I’ve always adored.
I didn’t intend to reflect at all over Christmas, I wanted to close myself shut, but it’s almost impossible to undo the undertone that Christmas is year end, and January is brand new. Believe me when I say this please, life is uncontrollable. Unbelievable. A January doesn’t need to arrive to want to do better, make a change, evaluate your circumstance. You can choose to do any of that, if you would like to, at any time in your life. Unintentionally, you will be forced to. I’ve said it twice now, in the paragraph above somewhere and now here, so it must be true.
Grief has taught me that good or bad, change is always coming unfortunately. I could squeeze my hands super tight, look up at the stars, hope for magic, pray to the gods, and still, the only change I’ll most likely stumble upon will be unexpected. I’m not mad about that anymore. It’s a fact of life. Even when I’m still, when my world isn’t chaos, it is for someone else. It’s relentless. Hard not to feel eaten alive by that. So. You have to enjoy the smallest of moments, make every day that you can, in its own way pleasant, not dire. Don’t save fancy glassware for special occasions. Use them now. I mean it. Allow yourself to rot in bed sometimes. Order takeout. Buy yourself flowers. Take yourself on a walk. Eat brunch alone, don’t wait on others. Wear your best dress on a boring Monday. Dye your hair a bold colour. Call your bestie. Make art and keep going even if it’s shite, because it’s fun. Let your house be messy sometimes. Start a new skin routine on a whim. Eat all the cake. You know.
Reflecting more. I said I wouldn’t do this, but I can’t stop myself. Amongst many things I will list soon, 2023 awoke a happy sad within that I hope will never leave…and this subconscious knowing that life will not wait for me.
I could cry at any moment, read the news, touch my skin, sip my coffee, pet a dog, can’t believe I’m still alive, stand still in a breeze, feel those I’ve loved and lost right there with me, sing my heart out, light a candle, can’t believe I’m still alive. I’m the softest, sweetest, saddest I’ve ever been, and in a world I couldn’t bare existing within without my mum, I’ve somehow managed, in many ways to have some of my most gorgeous moments and awakenings.
Okay. Here’s my list of things I’ve learnt, or vaguely knew already and have sunken in more and more and more. No resolutions or intentions. I genuinely don’t believe in them, and I don’t want to change, just become more comfortable with me forever and ever.
Your body is your home. Speak kindly to yourself, or at least be neutral, not cruel.
Dogs are otherworldly gorgeous creatures. Being in their presence, being their companion, friend, parent is a blessing.
Rose flavoured things are nice.
Invest in super comfortable pajamas. Chelsea Peers is nice. Tu at Sainsburys, also good enough.
Ordering lunch from Deliveroo once a week is not a sin.
Some humans are bad apples with thick skulls and they will never change.
My phone dictates my mood sometimes and should be left alone.
M&S sell affordable pretty perfume. Pink Pepper is a winner.
Dopamine dressing is a thing and I’ve leant how to do it.
I will never be a salad loving girlie and I will not punish myself into a smaller body.
Saying no doesn’t need to come with an excuse or white lie.
Tell people you love them loads and loads. Remember, when they are gone you’ll probably still think they didn’t know how loved they were by you, even though that’ll be impossible because they definitely did!
Having a skin routine is essential to surviving your 30s and makes me feel like I finally have control of something.
Life is not hopeless. Life is f*cking short though.