Blunt Potato Peelers
A few weeks are capable of changing everything.
Raindrops upon the window are no longer personified sadness but drops of glistening beauty; a collection of millions of water atoms which sparkle in the silver light.
There are always lessons to be learned, and there are always different ways of looking at the world. Someone recently told me that with practise, it’s easy to choose the face you present to the world if you embrace the distinctive traits in your personality. Well, he didn’t quite say it like that, but that was my interpretation and it was one of the most helpful things anyone has ever said to me.
Learn to recognise your emotional triggers, and avoid them until you feel safe enough to confront them. After a while, you’ll start to trust yourself. You’ll believe the outgoing, happy person you work so hard to be. Everything will fall into place, and when a piece of the jigsaw inevitably slips, you’ll have the strength to slot it back in.
I’ve always known that emotions change like Scottish weather: cloudy one minute, sunny the next. Throw in a thunderstorm or two in the midst of summer. It’s impossible to imagine sun through pouring rain, but when the shift happens, it feels so natural that you adjust immediately. Tears dry up; the weight in your stomach disappears. I promise.
I’ve had it with antidepressants. They stem my creativity and cloud my thoughts. Perhaps they keep my mood at a generally more stable level, but when something happens to get me down they’re as much use as a blunt potato peeler. Ha. Perhaps they can temporarily alter my brain chemistry but they will not change the fact that I’m an emotional person, and I’m ready to start living with that.
Life is a rollercoaster. There will always be people who you clash with, people who you love, and people who you’d like nothing more than to dangle out of a high window by their ankles. Embrace it: love, learn, appreciate, and be the person you want the world to get to know.
(By the way, I’d avoid dangling anyone out of a window by their ankle, no matter how much of a twit they may be… You might end up in a police cell)