Happiness

Little Things

What is it about 4am that makes my brain go into over drive and burst with epiphanies?

I’m feeling really happy at the moment. Maybe because I’ve distanced myself from both the vacuous fashion industry and the sometimes more vacuous nightlife industry. Maybe because I’ve been spending more time with my mum. Maybe because I’m getting older –

(My friend Jake, who is an amazing producer in his thirties, once gave me a great piece of advice. He said that as you get older you naturally start understanding your own brain and life gets so much easier. He said that 28 was the age when, mentally speaking, everything seemed to fall into place for him)

– whatever it may be, it’s a lovely feeling. It’s not even that I can say everything is perfect. I’ve been in and out of hospital for two weeks. I’m poorer than I’ve been in a long time, my future seems uncertain and my skin in currently going through an awful breakout. Ordinarily, these points would have me spiralling into an anxious wreck (when to most they are simple privileged-girl-problems). But even though these things are on my mind, they’re definitely at the back, or at least in the middle – definitely not at the forefront. My brain feels calm. Instead of a million voices racing at 1,000 miles per hour, the soundtrack to my brain sounds like reggae music and birds singing. For tonight, at least.

And it just makes me realise – I have wasted so much of my time being simply unhappy. So many precious moments, hours and days have been wasted with worrying about things that haven’t happened or things that really really don’t even matter.

Due to the numerous hospital visits (a cyst in my ovary burst last week and the pain, although greatly improved, hash’t gone away) I have been resting at my mum’s house. While searching for something in her office, I came across a box filled with childhood photos which were obviously too random and meaningless for an album or frame. Bubba/family photos are one of my favourite things in the entire world. I sat for literally hours rooting through photos I’d never laid eyes one, deciphering when and where they were taken and who long forgotten people were making appearances in them. It’s such a lovely but strange thing to look at photos of yourself. There’s kind of a dramatic irony to it, like, woooah little girl, you have no idea what’s coming or about the world you think you have already mastered. I know that little girl so much at the same time as feeling like I have no idea who I am at this present moment.

The little girl is fucking cool. Made so much cooler for the fact that she had no idea at the time. She didn’t care. She was happy. She thought she was the shit purely because she was herself without having seen or heard anything that had told her otherwise. She’d had no outer influence except her family who made her feel like the shit 24/7, and who were and still are themselves ‘the shit’ (I’ll stop saying the shit now). She didn’t care about the little things. She knew what she wanted, she just had no idea how to get it.

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At one point I thought – imagine if time were reversed and this little girl look 17 years into her future and see her future 23 year old self. What would she think? Who would she hope to be?  Would she be disappointed, or excited to get there?

On paper, she may be excited. On paper (completely shallow, ignorant, thin paper) I have an ‘exciting’ life, with an ‘exotic’ job, a flat in a place that 7 year old me could only dream of (anywhere out of Essex would have seemed fabulous to her, mind you), great friends, a great relationship, three beautiful dogs – every 7 year olds dream… In fact, everything 7 year  would have written down on a list of “Things I want at 23” (minus 1million£ in the bank. She aimed high) But if she looked deeper, I image her inexperienced, simple mind would be confused – why is 23 year old me not always in a good mood? – I’m sure she’d be wondering. Why does she let little things bother her? Why does she let little things stand in her way? What’s stopping her? Why isn’t it enough?

I’m sad to say that I can’t answer any of these questions, because deep down I’m still wondering myself. But at least I’m getting there. All I do know is, I want to be the 23 year old that the 7 year old dreamed of.

So, I’ve decided that I will be. I owe it to her.

“No offence but I’ve decided I’m gonna stop being sad and start being unbelievably powerful, creative, and full of love & light”

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