A Comfy Kind Of Restless

Hi!

I wrote this poem thinking about the way I had been feeling last week: sore, tetchy, tired and ever so grumpy!

I get into this place where I don’t want people to tell me about all the rational good stuff about my life, (because I have a fluffing annoying camp-coordinator-type person in my head who does that CONSTANTLY to keep me moving, and keep me focussed on the family’s needs).

I feel guilty that I’m not ‘just’ splendiferously happy with my amazing sons and husband and wider family and friends and social media laughs; and certainly with having all my basic needs and much more met without having to slog my guts out like I did in my younger days…!!

From Textfixer

I watch the news.  I know how awful it could be, what atrocities happen, how people lose everything.  I give money to charities, have even worked and volunteered for a good few, have seen devastating things happen to people close to me, and have marvelled at the way they and the fabulous souls around them have got on with life anyway.

I get it, I do.

I am the world’s worst at remembering to speak without channeling the morose and voicing the negative.  I often don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel as being anything other than a train.

There is a ‘but’ here: I also hug a lot of strangers. 

I am a keeper of life stories, and I make people laugh – and also give them a safe shoulder to cry on.  I care about my fellow humans.  I hand found notes into police stations, and I usually make it my mission to catch the eye of someone standing alone at any social gathering. 

If you are one of those people who find passionate rambling endearing, I’m your gal.  (You’re still reading, I notice)

I was the shop assistant who would get things from high shelves and talk bunions and ‘the good old days’ with my mature customers, and earn myself boiled sweets in the process (I never got my shelves stacked on time).

I’ll keep your secrets and not judge you harshly.  I will point out your positives and options, but I’ll also join you in your misery. Because:

Moan  Communication  Gloomy Harmless  Beast  Gimmick  Basic  Willow  Call

Sometimes,

A moan

Is the best communication.

Offering your rant –

A gloomy, harmless beast –

Can be liberating

For the person listening.

It’s like some

Shiny sales gimmick

That lets another know:

No topic is barred, here.

So what if your

Basic life is ‘privileged’?

Sometimes,

That can be sh*t, too.

A willow is beautiful

But still droops, as it blooms.

Sometimes,

Only being a call away

Can be equivalent to dead.

Yes, tomorrow is another day, you do have amazing things to live for, you should definitely step out of your comfort zones and embrace this wonderful life…

…but all of that takes energy and there comes many a moment when you just need to say ARRRRRRGHHHH and throw it all up in the air.  Restraining that alllll the time is unrealistic.  (I can’t do it for two weeks together, right now!)

You will get that energy back, you will feel better/do better/move on again – but you don’t need to pretend that you never feel yuck.

You also don’t need to fear that if you let it all out you’ll never get back the pieces in the same order/be able to look the other person in the eye again.

Pick the right person (tricky, but doable) and something will shift.

Promise 😉

This is how deeper friendships are formed. Oftentimes, you help the other person, too!!

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