Hello all! I hope you all had a wonderful Easter break, filled with family, good food and Easter egg hunts.
I have refrained from posting this last week, mainly because my posts would have gone something like this:
Grrrmumblegrrkjvdfkvnd %&*$ fghfdsd &^%$ WHY WORLD, WHY?!
No, nothing terrible happened. At the worst, it was a mildly irritating week. But I did decide, for whatever reason, to throw myself the largest one-woman pity party the world has ever seen. Family, chocolate, friends, chocolate, chocolate... nope none of that was going to cheer me up. I was determined to wallow in my own self-pity, everyone else be damned.
I try not to do this, I really do. But every year, for a week or two, I fail. I crawl into bed and refuse to get out. I bitch, moan, complain and throw myself around the house like a wounded animal. But this time was a doozy.
Saturday two weeks ago I got the flu. Oh and what a flu it was. Raging fevers, runny nose, sore throat, you name it I had it. And rather than heading straight to bed like someone intelligent, I decided to power through the week like nobodies business. Work? Yeah, sure I can do it! Just give me 10 blankets, a handful of panadol and a desk to nap on (seriously) and I’ll be fine. How could that be anything but a good idea?!
Presentation at school? Why not! Just because I can barely talk doesn’t mean my speech won’t be awesome!
*side note: I got picked on during my speech. By uni students. Adults. Can you believe it? Who does that? The last time I got picked on was four years ago by some nine year olds at a water park! (Yes that did happen and yes I did cry). Act your age...stupid heads...
Anyway, so that got the pity party going. And then for some reason I felt an unknown urge to feel attractive. Scratch that. I wanted to feel downright sexy.
And why? I have never wanted to feel like that before. Because I am just not. I can’t pull it off. Eighteen years of scrubbing toothpaste off my clothes every morning has taught me that. But for some reason, in my feverish state, I decided that sexy and desirable I was going to be. I donned my shortest skirts and a face full of makeup.
Did it work? No. Not even a little. Despite the fact that I.am.just.not , it’s also completely impossible when your nose is dripping and red, you have the voice of an 80 year old man, you are coughing up your lungs every second AND..wait for it (and put down whatever you’re eating) your eyes are dripping mucus. Seriously. Gross right? I mean, what the hell body. What kind of stupid defense is that?! I CAN’T EVEN SEE HOW BAD I LOOK..oh wait..that must be what it was for.
Anyway, once the pity train left the station it was hard to turn it around. Add a best friend leaving me for year to live in the States, a mix-up with an assignment that meant it was 6 days late, another assignment mix-up, an argument with a friend, and you have a crying, whinging, unbearable me.
It wasn’t until Monday, when I had finally pulled myself out of bed after a four day hiatus from the world to lick my wounds, that I realised how painfully awful I was being. Everything that had happened was either inevitable, or me being completely unrealistic/stupid.
And so, as I was driving and admiring the glorious sunshine, the birds singing, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee floating through the air, I gave myself some very good advice.
No, it wasn’t, ‘everything happens for reason’, ‘make the most of what you have’or ‘live life to the fullest’. Because while they’re great and all, I give myself little positivity boosts ALL THE TIME and sometimes what a day-dreamy, whiny, wrapped up in minor first-world problems girl like me needs to hear is this:
Harden. The Fuck. Up.
It’s not polite. It’s not positive. It’s not made up of all of the happy little things I love about life. But boy was it needed.
I could continue on the same path, with the same positive chants to pull me out of tough times. Waiting for everyone else to make things better for me. Blaming the world for my problems.
Or I could look around and realise that I HAVE NO REAL PROBLEMS.
And when things do go wrong, I can fix what I can (me, no one else), then stop whining about what I can’t. Maybe put things into perspective. Take some responsibility. Build some resilience.
And stop being SUCH a drama queen.
Because there comes a point when we need to grow up, as unwelcome as it first appears. Not for anyone else, simply for our own happiness.