Packaged care.

A few days ago I received a care package from my sister in Australia. It contained everything a good care package should, which is to say ample amounts of chocolate and chocolate based goods (all of which were consumed within 24 hours), superior Australian Band-Aids (I’d run out), cosy clothes and cards expressing unconditional love and support.

And she put all this together whilst approximately 30 seconds away from giving birth. My sister is much better at functioning than I.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a human being in possession of a life will inevitably go through some bullshit, and I’ve been reflecting a lot these last few weeks on how lucky I am to have the support network that I do while wading through my current allotment of bovine excrement. So I’m taking time out from my pendulum swinging between aching self-pity and hyperactive distraction methods to be grateful for a whole bunch of people and their bolstering of my fragile self. This includes, but is not limited to:

The friend that gave me a couch to sleep on without reservation, with no time limit, despite no indication of how long I could be there.

The friends who take me out for coffee, make sure I go out and do things, and manage not to look repulsed when if I end up doing my squashed tomato crying face.

The friends in Australia, the US and other ridiculously located countries who as soon as they knew I was struggling, carved time out of their days to fit in Skype calls.

The colleagues who have reached out and let me know that I’m not alone in experiencing the doubt, uncertainty and fatigue that I find myself overwhelmed by.

The friends who have passed work along to me.

People who have told me that they enjoy my writing and are glad I have returned to it, cheerful as the content currently is.

And most importantly:

My family, who have made it possible for me to run after the flighty musical muse, and who continue to offer nothing but support and understanding, even as I consider walking away from the path that they sacrificed so much in order for me to be able to follow.

It’s quite extraordinary to be surrounded by so many wonderful people, particularly when I can feel that my current struggles stem from my own inherent inadequacies: not a good enough singer, not an interesting enough girlfriend, not an (insert-whatever-adjective-you-like) enough (pick-whatever-noun-you-like)* blah, I’ve probably thought it all over the last month. As someone who has always struggled to find self-worth independent of what I do, it’s been really incredible to acknowledge to myself and my general acquaintance that I’m closer to 30 than I’d like to admit and have no idea what I’m doing with my life, and somehow still have people supporting me and believing in me.

So thank you.

*I’ve actually decided this makes a really good game. From now on, any time I start to wallow in ye olde negatory selfe prattle, I’m going to make myself pick a random adjective and random noun, and that’s what I’ll bemoan not being. Today’s failing? I’m just not a spikey enough banana.

20171102_203358

A card from my Dad.

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