I’m writing you this letter because you’ve changed. You’ve changed in so many ways that I didn’t know how to explain myself. Some changes have crept in gradually, whilst others have been thrust upon me without warning, and I’m not entirely sure I like it.
You used to be all about the fun, about going outside every day and talking to real actual people. Do you remember when we were young? When we used to pop into town and go shopping? When we took time to look at clothes and consider what they would look like when I put them on? Do you remember, Life? Not once did I utter the phrase “Oh, that’ll do!”
Now you’re all about chores. The endless, monotonous chores which make my back ache and my fingers bleed. And the thing is, it doesn’t really matter how many of these thankless tasks I do, because there are always plenty more to take their place.
There are some days, Life, when quite frankly you are full of shit (literally) and some days when you make me want to cry.
But there are other days, happy days. Days when I truly know what my purpose is. Days when I listen to our children giggling and playing together and I know that this is how it should be.
I know that I am mostly to blame for the state of our relationship and for the fact I don’t know if I’m coming or going, happy or sad, awake or asleep. “Let’s have kids,” I said. “It’ll be fun”, I said… Hmmm! Well sometimes it is fun, right?
But it wasn’t just me, Life. Who was there peering over my shoulder with that biological clock, yelling “TICK TOCK, TICK bloody TOCK”? I believe Life, I believe that was you.
I’ve noticed that since the arrival of the children you have gotten a little out of control. Like you don’t know what’s going to happen from one minute to the next. Like you are playing a little game to see how far you can push me before I break. Well, there are days when I am very close to breaking.
On the other hand, Life, as we continue on our journey together you teach me many lessons. You have taught me that you are fleeting and ever changing, and that is no bad thing. You have taught me to appreciate the most simple of things, like actually being able to hear the people when they are talking on TV, and the joy of a shiny new mop head!
I love to stand by the open back door and breathe in the fresh air and listen to the birds chirping. I love to be snuggled in front of the fire, wrapped up in a blanket with our babies. I have not a penny to my name, but (in those moments at least) that doesn’t matter. So thank you Life, for teaching me contentment.
I think what I’m trying to say in this letter Life, is that at the moment things between us are a bit tough. Maybe we can make some changes so that we can improve our situation. How about we try to get some more sleep and take some time to rest together? We should take some time to look after ourselves a bit more, eat better, exercise more and moisturise. We must always remember to moisturise!
I will stop pushing us to our limits by demanding more from you than I know you can give, if you stop surprising me with extra jobs and random illnesses.
We are lucky to have each other and we are so good together Life, and I will hang onto you for as long as I possibly can with every ounce of my being. In sickness and in health, ‘til death us do part.
Sarah (Your Mind, Body and Soul)