I wrote this three months ago. It brings some perspective to my new London life. I still wonder about the bored/terrified cycle… There’s something to that. Anyway, here it is.
Some days, I wonder if life is just a cycle of bored and terrified with sprinkles of joy in between. Then I often get annoyed at this observation and implore the universe “there must be a better way!”
There probably isn’t. Not yet, anyway.
I have been working at my new job for a little under two months now. This is my second sick day. Though, I’m not sick, obviously. I’m interviewing for another job.
I’ve never done this before. It’s exhilarating, although its 7am and my body doesn’t know how to process exhilaration before 10am so I just feel sort of sick.
It’s gotten me thinking though, about happiness. I’ve experienced some pretty top notch, high quality happiness in my life. I could tell you about my first kiss or the time my feet hit the ground after skydiving for the first (and only) time or the first time I went on an overseas trip on my own but the happiest moment in my life to date is a simple moment. The fact that this makes my number one means to me that I’m old enough to have changed my definition of happy at least once from when I was younger. I was at the beach, the water was crystal. I’m talking see your feet, see the fish swimming between your legs, kiss your fingers and make an annoying smacking sound as you do it, crystal clear. There was a freak butterfly migration happening on the South East coast of Aus at the time so there were little parties of butterflies fluttering all around my head and into the sky as far as I could see. The sky was absolutely spotless and the warmest, bluest blue I’ve ever seen. All at once, I just got this rush and started tossing myself in the tiny, forgiving waves and became almost overwhelmed at how utterly and completely content I was with life. That was pure joy. I say pure, not just to iterate the intensity of the feeling, but I mean it in the literal sense – there was nothing else that I was thinking about in that moment other than how happy I was.
So rare, I think that’s the only time that’s happened to me. Every other memory of intense happiness I can recall is marred by something else – fear that the boy wasn’t enjoying the kiss as much as me, fear my friends would want to go sky diving again, fear that I’d get lost in Amsterdam because I ate a whole space cake in one go, having never tried basically anything before and now couldn’t remember how to work out stairs (Left leg up, right leg up, you’ve done this a million times, Shannon. Babies can do this! Come on!)
Where was I going with this? Oh right, I’m nervous about taking too many sick days to go interview for other jobs and I’m whining because I haven’t been comfortable in two months haha. What a nice life I lead.