Dear Stumbling,
Thank you for your kind and thought-provoking letter (see, I do read your blog, so ner ner ner ner ner, as you so eloquently put it). I think it’s time we had a little chat, don’t you? Mind the step and pull up a chair.
Look, between you and me, I know I wasn’t invited. I’m never exactly welcomed with open arms. I mean, really?
But let’s get a few things straight. Who told you life was going to be easy? You can’t turn the clock back and I’m here to stay, so you may as well get used to me hanging around, whether you like it or not (harsh but true).
Which leads me neatly to my next point. Sure, I’m pretty nasty. I mess up your body and put your brain in a blender. But I’ve been kind to you too. Don’t laugh – without me, would you really appreciate life so much more than you used to? Would you really make the most of every day? I don’t think so. You were quite happily trucking along, making plans, blah blah blah, without a care in the world. Life. Is. Not. That. Simple.
See? I helped you change your life, didn’t I? Yes, I know you lost everything, but we’ll run through that, shall we? Career? If your employer was going to treat you like that, they weren’t worth it anyway. Ditto partner. He scarpered at the first sign of trouble. I saved you the pain at a future date. And stop worrying about finding someone new. Find yourself first, then think about it. So in a strange kind of way, I simply hastened the process of clearing your life out, didn’t I?
And I really do think you should thank me for that. Sure, I prod you and push you over. And? I see you laughing at it now. You turned it round. You used to trip and curse every single time. Now you shrug it off. Life is all about adapting, every single day. Nothing stays the same. And if that’s the only thing I can teach you, then I’m happy.
You’re doing ok. You faced up to me (and to be frank, you’re a teeny bit scary when you do that). I think you are much more powerful than before, despite feeling weaker. Have a think about it.
Anyway, I’ll leave you with that. And please, no more pity parties. Yawn.
Yours forever,
MS