A List For When I’m Lost
I have spent much of my life feeling far from cheerful. I have never had a major, tangible trauma, more a litany of little things adding up, sneaky straws slinking up onto the camel’s back. I think it broke when I was about 15 years old, and 12 years later I feel as if I am still learning how to live.
My teens and early twenties were a blur of mental illness, exacerbated by teachers badly handling situations, their lack of knowledge and compassion at times staggering. I was trying to balance my schoolwork and my dreams for a future full of wonder, with an eating disorder, depression and OCD and at times it felt more like drowning than living up to the pressure of a full-fees scholarship. I will be forever grateful to my friends, family and partner at the time for sticking by my side throughout my most challenging of days. Supporting someone when they’re at their lowest is a challenge that requires both patience and love, and I’ve been lucky enough to have been met with both on countless occasions.
I think I have always been predisposed to seeing the darkness in things. But now I am learning how this heaviness allows me to see the light more vividly when it does appear. The sun falling through a crack in the curtains seems to offer more warmth when you’ve been in the dark for so long, than it would had you been under its glow the whole time. The bubbling sound of a mindfully-prepared Moka pot has a certain wonder to it when you’ve only had the motivation to scoop instant coffee into a mug all week. The sound of a song you’d forgotten you love can evoke memories of happier times that, in the shadows, you’d been unable to recall.
And so I sometimes make a list of the things that bring me such light, when I have clarity and hope and motivation. A survival kit of sorts, to call upon when my sense of self is slipping. It isn’t a to-do list, not something to pressure myself with when I’m already feeling overwhelmed. More a reminder of the quality of life that I can get back to. A reminder that there are things worth living for and, sometimes, that’s just enough to pull me up.
I thought I’d share one, in case you’re looking for that light;
The Sea
Its magic is startling; the way it crashes with conviction against jagged rocks on one side of the harbour yet caresses tiny pebbles on the other with a gentleness you easily forget exists. It leaves a web of brown and green and purple in its wake, a salty guide to follow along the shore. In summer it watches patiently as you lie on warm sand, a cold-blooded lizard lapping up the rare twenty-eight degree heat. And then it welcomes you with open waves, supports your body into weightlessness. The air is thick and fresh and you can taste nature on your tongue.Coffee Shops
They are warm and welcoming and you can feel like a stranger or a friend, whichever you decide. You have loved ones to share bubbly-breaded sandwiches with, and bustle in the street to gaze at through steamed-up glass, and a sultry smell that’s both energising and relaxing at the same time. There are so many pastries left to taste, so many cakes left to inhale. You run your finger across the plate, lick crumbs from your skin.Swimming
The lido is your safe space. Some days it is shrouded in golden sunlight, patterns dancing across the swimming pool floor like fractured rainbows. Other days it is invigorating, the last of the leaves floating idly down from the tree, reminding you that nature is always there, always working away in the background. You stand huddled in the hot showers with a group of strangers and exchange shivering smiles and the odd word of encouragement needed to brace the cold air. You feel alive.Dancing
There are many forms. You are not overwhelmingly gifted at this, but it brings you a heat and energy you should always welcome. It is a solo session when the house is empty, bass turned up on the speaker, vibrations rolling up through the soles of your feet. It is a friendship fortified on a dance floor, sticky bodies moving to a rhythm, your heartbeat and their heartbeat and the music’s heartbeat merging into a glorious tune you don’t want to leave behind. You shout secrets louder than you could anywhere else and wonder how much they’ll remember in the morning. You feel free.Baking
This has always been a therapy for you. Even when you’re feeling hopeless, you can beat sugar into butter, eggs into milk. You can watch ribbons of batter fall gracefully from a spoon and stare, mesmerised, as psychedelic chocolate patterns swirl into a cake mix. Never forget the joy that a freshly-baked dessert can bring, the sweet aroma it lends to the kitchen, just for an hour or two. You can take the bare basics, and you can make magic.Walking
Don’t overthink it, just step outside. Leave the house and feel the sunlight melt into your skin and listen to the light thud of a bird flapping its wings above, hear the dulcet tones its movement makes. Don’t worry when you spot a flash of monochrome, another will join; one for sorrow, but two for joy. See where your feet take you. Traverse hills with friends, pack a picnic and sit atop an ancient burial mound. Dip chips in hummus as the world falls still around you. Take in the sublime beauty of nature. You are a tiny speck in this world; let that comfort you, not dishearten you.The Heart
It has kept you alive through all this. Trust it. Let its constant pulse flow through your body like the rhythm of the dance floor you’ve missed for so long. Study its blue streams, imagine its red rivers deep below your skin. It is a map for life and love and healing. Give it the respect it deserves. Love the organ that allows you to love, and think of everyone else’s mirroring yours. Feel the stark silhouette of sadness melt from its heat. Feel its warmth.Sunsets
These mark the close of a tough day. Tomorrow it will rise into a fresh yolk of opportunity, but for now take the time to appreciate the hues; seek them out if you have to. Find a spot to bask in the fading light, preferably with a stretching vista of sky before you, and observe the melding of tones; rose to ochre to the deepest, velvety blue. Watercolours on Turner’s canvas. Buildings frame the scene like the black card cut-outs you stuck to paintings as a kid. Be in awe.
Sometimes, when all else fails, I think of the happiness that I impart on others. I stop doubting my place in the world and instead listen to the friends who tell me I am valued, the family who will always be proud and the man who loves me despite it all. I think of the way they affectionately roll their eyes at my sarcastic humour, the luscious sound of their laughter bouncing off the walls, the warm, soft, comforting feel of a hug on an otherwise too-cold-to-bear day.
Sometimes, when all else fails, I climb into bed and spend hours mindlessly watching the latest Netflix series flicker across the fingerprint-laden screen of my laptop. I allow myself comfort and I allow myself tears and I allow myself, for as long as is needed, to sit with my sadness.
Sometimes, when all else fails, I take it a minute at a time. And I remind myself that I am still here to watch the hand reliably edge around the promising face of a clock.
I’ve got this. You’ve got this too.