I
haven't been writing recently due to a mixture of reasons. Real life
has not been as amazing this autumn as I thought it would be and I
was hoping that something wonderful would happen so that I could
write about it, instead of having to write about bras or to write
something that will be completely contradictory to my previous post.
There are other reasons as well, one of them being that I have
finally experienced the mysterious migraines – I used to wonder
what they were like when I was little and heard about them the first
time. They sounded so adult like back then. Now after falling totally
behind with my studies due to a two-week long, intense experience of
them I feel no need to deepen my empirical knowledge about them.
I
am not quite sure what I hoped to achieve this autumn but I feel like
my life has not been as exciting as I hoped it would be. I went to
uni, I went to work, I ate, I took D vitamin tablets, I slept. I
carried on doing the same things, everyday, as well as I could while
life kept throwing other emotional and physical challenges on my way.
Sometimes I felt tired and lonely. I had “too much” uni work to
do, and hadn't managed to make new friends when the old ones had left
the town. Sometimes, but more and more rarely, I found an evening or
a lunch time to meet up with an old friend. I kept dreaming about
holidays when I wouldn't have to do all the everyday life things and
I would have energy to do enjoyable things.
But
life is hard and everyone seems quite unhappy. Most of the
conversations I have involve people complaining about work, weather,
life, politics, relationships, people in general or about anything
really. Why is it so difficult for us to be happy? Is being happy
something too childish for us? Kids are happy, but when we grow up we
have to be all responsible and there is no space for happiness, we
just need to worry about things.
I
do all this myself as well. A lot of the time I am not really happy.
I complain a lot. And I worry. I would like to know how to be happy.
I would like to write blog posts about how to be happy. But right now
I have no idea. I have faint memories of once, a long time ago,
sitting on my bed in the middle of the night, listening to songs
about marshmallows. I remember being happy back then.
I
talked about this to a friend, who pointed out one thing about
seeking happiness. When people discover something that will make them
happy, and decide to act on it to reach out for it, there is normally
a large group of unhappy people – silently or vocally – judging
them.
The
reason of this blog post is not to make everyone depressed about all
the unhappiness in the world, although I am very distressed about it
at the moment. I might get over this and discover little happy
things, such as wrist warmers*, and start blogging about them again.
This post probably has no other meaning but to make people aware of
the fact that they should try and enjoy even the little things in
life that might seem meaningless (like woolly socks) more and take
care of each other even if they feel that they are too busy. Because
if they feel too busy, they are probably not too busy. Have a tea
break with that person you are always too busy to talk to.
*My
hands and feet have never been this cold before. I got rid of
migraines but the side-effect of these pills is that my already bad
peripheral circulation is getting even worse.
