Ramblings on appreciating life and telling you I love you
A very good friend is going through a hard time and it prompted me to contact my parents and tell them that I love them. Yes, we don't have the easiest of relationships and we don't always like each other very much, but I do love them. And I don't tell them.
One of the saddest parts of this though is that it took tragedy in someone else's life to make me realise that I don’t tell them enough. But isn't this often the case? We take so much of our lives for granted, including often the people in it with us.
Freakishly it's on this theme that I am actually grateful for depression. To be brutal it is more good fortune than anything else that I am still alive and that is a fact not lost on me. It follows the old cliché of those that have near death experiences I suppose, but I am so grateful to be alive that I do remember to appreciate it. Yes I bitch and gripe because life isn't always fun. But at least I have it.
I smile when I see daisies because they look happy, I like to walk in the rain because it makes me feel alive, I get inexplicably happy when I see a rainbow. And I have in the past been teased for this. Yes, I know it's just physics, but how amazing is it that we live in a world where something as everyday as light bouncing off something else as everyday as water can make something so beautiful?
Here’s some pop-philosophy I used when I did a guest blog-spot a while back: when a child sees a cow in a field on a road trip they will get excited about every field of cows they see. We, the weary adult travelling companion, will tolerate this enthusiasm for a while before growing tired of it, just as we have long since tired of getting excited about cows ourselves. But each cow IS amazing. Each cow is unique and a miracle just by virtue of being a living thing. When did we lose this appreciation for the world around us, and more to the point why are trying to strip it from our children?
When did we become so complacent with life and all that that it entails? And more importantly, how did I let myself get complacent about the people in my life? It’s easy to think, "well I hope my parents and my friends know I love them," but it shouldn’t be about hope. They should know I love them because I should be telling them, showing them with my actions. And I shouldn't wait for near death experiences or other people's sadness to prompt me to do it.
So, if I do tell you, or try to show you (no, not that way...) I love you, please don't assume I am just drunk.
Well, obviously there is a high chance that I am drunk, but it's not the only reason. Honest.