The Little Things

 
It is sometimes very easy to think the entire world is against you. If you're Hosni Mubarak, OK, you are quite correct in your assumption that at least one entire country is against you but for the most of us, and Really Horrible Things aside, it's a human reaction to Normal Shit Going Down.

It doesn't take much. Stubbing your toe getting out of bed. Finding there's no hot water for the bath. Discovering, horror of morning horrors, that there are no teabags left for your first cuppa of the day and you're forced to drink coffee thereby rendering the rest of the morning A Bloody Waste of Time.

The feelings boil and twist inside you and by lunchtime you're so worked up that a Mars Bar is the only solution and then you're even more annoyed because that's wrecked your diet and not only will you now put on 14lbs overnight, but your partner will leave you and people sounding horns will follow you with harpoons. On top of that, you've confirmed your own thoughts that yes, you are indeed a weak and pathetic excuse for a human being.

By night time you're on the third fried egg sandwich, half way down a box of Celebrations (Celebration? I'll give you celebration you bastards..) and shouting at the telly.

This is typical for me. Apparently its called catastrophizing.

However..... I am changing that. Changing me. Past history has shown me that you can have money, cars, a beautiful house, gorgeous kids and wonderful friends but still not be happy. It was only when I gave that all up (except the kids and friends bit) that I finally started to notice that its often not the big things in life than give you happiness, its the small things. A tune on the radio that lifts you out of the psychotic rage induced by crumbs in the margarine and plonks you serenely into a much more public safety orientated calmness, a compliment from a colleague on your appearance (though that might lead you to wonder "what the hell do they want?" but that's Paranoia and I shall deal with this in another post) or someone letting you out of a junction at rush hour.

I'm no fool though. £5 million, hell £50,000 could also make me quite happy but lets, for the sake of argument, get back to reality.

This morning I woke full of doom. I felt alone, unloved and fat. I shuffled to the kitchen, stuck on the kettle and stood forlornly at the window watching the rain plummet from the sky flooding the grey, bleak February landscape. I was in full catastrophization mode. By the time the kettle had boiled, in my head I'd fallen at home alone, suffered a subdural hematoma (I must look that up on google, they seem to be very common) and my long-dead corpse was being eaten by the cat 'cos no one had been to check on me in 3 weeks. The wankers.

Then as quick as a blink of my eye, the rain turned to snow. It was snowing! I love snow and stood outside, I watched with a smile as the ground rapidly disappeared under a blanket of white. A tiny bird dipped its head in greeting and my sadness melted away like the snowflake I had in my hand.