Dark days

I woke last night to the sound of thunder…it’s a line from a song from the late 70s or early 80s, but last night it was literally true. Sadly, unlike the song, which always made me think of summer nights and thinking about chance, and change, and memories, this thundering reminder only woke me up to consider that only a few days ago it had been snowing. There was shouting outside last night as well, possibly due to the rain, and someone at some point threw a bottle. Why they did so, is anyone’s guess. But these considerations are secondary, a preamble to a larger questioning. And this is it – why are things going so badly wrong? Not for everyone, as the saying would have it, it’s an ill wind that blows no one any good. At this very moment, I know people on holiday – I’m one of them – and they are having fun. There the resemblance ends.

At this moment in time, I feel as though I have woken up from yet another in a series of strange dreams which have led me astray, and been designed to hide the truth. A truth which a quick glance at my sister’s Vogue magazines, left behind as she went off to begin a new life elsewhere, will confirm. That there are people out there actually enjoying life. They have money, and friends. They own islands, and have managed to convince the world of their own special brand of madness. Of course these are extreme examples. But when you think of the mass hysteria brought on by the notion that if one were rich, everything would be fine, it doesn’t seem so extreme anymore. Dreams are for people with enough time and money to consider them a possibility. The rest of us…well, it’s hard to say. Why do we carry on? What makes us think that this spring is worth waiting for, that it will be any different from the previous disappointments?

At this point, after a week of having the flu, and many years of trying to convince myself that I know what I am doing, both health and intelligence have hit some sort of crucial wall, where anything but the hard truth seems an insult. And the truth seems to consist of some terrible family curse, designed to bring unhappiness and poor decision making skills with it. Of course, it could be worse. There are people in much worse situations. But I wonder if they feel the weight of the family disaster behind them, quite as strongly as I do at this moment. Badly chosen partners, lack of self control, money spent ill-advisedly, trust put in the wrong people, an unbearable sense that things will work out, when it is patently obvious that they won’t.

I think this all means that I have lost faith. Which is bad.

I’ve gone away and rested a bit after writing this. And it occurs to me that this is the root of all evil. This loss of faith. This endless insecurity, sure that everyone can see loss and aloneness. All our holidays have become encomiums to the absence of what it is that we should be celebrating. So at Christmas, we have suicides. At Valentine’s we have hatred and war – oh wait, I forgot – we have those all the time now. Those with something are sure that they are being hounded by those without, and children suddenly find themselves hounded from lesson to lesson, desperate to maintain their slippery hold on their social station, while those who traded money for morals quite successfully, get on with the business of impressing the world. The rest of us get on as best we can.

But funnily enough, after having my moment of reflection, I decided my biggest strength was going to be not giving in. I wasn’t going to let some background of madness dictate my future. That way lies madness. It’s perfectly possible to see how poor choices make for an uncomfortable bed to lie in. The difference is in whether you give in, accept defeat and the fact that you will never be a size zero, or a millionaire, as the only defining moments of your life. Or whether you go against the editorials, keep fighting and refuse to have mediocrity as your only goalpost. I have a million faults, and I’ve done a million stupid things. I probably will keep doing them, or at least new ones, idiocies that will make me cringe upon reflection. Like … oh never mind.

Isn’t that the essence of being alive? Forward, etc… And with those brave and foolish words, I will do my best to forget yet another Valentine’s without flowers, an endless parade of worries, and flaws, and try to see something beautiful in life. The chattering classes aren’t making it easy for me, and neither are the poverty stricken. I will have to look further afield for inspiration. Or maybe just within, as I cling to those moments where I actually believe you can overcome adversity. Perhaps some people will read this and decide I actually must be mad, trying to believe that my life holds anything of interest to anyone, and that my initial reaction, of doubt and fear, was the correct response. Maybe this instalment will be completely without merit. But if it is, then it should only show that I won’t give up, I won’t pretend that everything I do is perfect, and that at least, I continue trying, if nothing else. So. There.

Ah maturity.