Today I got 34 years old, and I had all really lovely day.
It began far too early since the little one felt very awake around 05.00 and he had wet himself, so bleary eyes I had to go change his clothes. After that my boyfriend took over so I could sleep in for a bit, which saved my day. I god breakfast made for me, and then we went to the city center at enjoyed a wonderful warm September day. When we came home my brother and three friends came to play board games and I loved every second of it.
When I’m old and look back on my life, memories from times with others is what will feel important. Not how many books I’ve read, not what I’ve eaten for dinner or when I cleaned the apartment. What really matters are conversations, laughter, feeling connected to others. But although I know this, I often forget how important it is.
Today one of my best friends came to visit us. Yesterday I thought this was inconvenient. It meant less time with my book and time for scrapbooking, and that annoyed me somewhat. But it turned out to be a wonderful evening. We had dinner together, talked and played a board game. She held my son and showed me a video from when her son was the same age as Gabriel is now, and I felt the warmth of sharing my life with her. The good feeling in my body from just being together with a person I care about.
When I get old, I will look back at this evening and remember that I felt happy. I’m so grateful for my friends. They have been there when I needed it the most, offering support and consolation. They have seen me cry and made my laugh again. Friends make everything easier, they give you hope and offer different perspectives when you don’t see clearly. We are hard wired for connections; and it’s no secret that loneliness often hides behind depression or anxiety.
Isolation is never good for us, so if you feel that you don’t have time to be with others, then just think about what you will think about when you’re old. It’s not the hours you spent at the office or the money you made.
Millions believe in miracles. And millions have experienced it too. Six weeks ago, I was the lucky one. My miracle appeared the 20th of April, when my son was born. It is still so strange to have a son. One week after he was born, his eye was infected and I had to get a remedy in the pharmacy. When she asked me if it was for myself or someone else, I proudly announced it was for my son. It hit me then. I am now a mother, with all that it entails. First and foremost, that means being there for him, making him secure. He has already got a little personality, and so far he has been a very kind and calm baby. These last days he has also become more social and engaged with the world. Every little development is a miracle, just him being here is. How lucky am I ?
Humans have always been fascinated by what we don’t understand. We love riddles, trying to figure out what we just haven’t grasped yet.
Loving complexity is easy, especially when it comes to people. Hidden layers under the surface are endlessly fascinating. If you discover that somebody turned out to be very different from what you thought, the world stops for a split second. You think: There’s so much I don’t know yet. I was wrong. And strangely enough it feels good, because broadening your perspective is meaningful. Maybe it’s even what life is all about.
Some of the most interesting people I’ve met, have also been the most complex. Different layers that leave you flabbergasted. How can a person consist of so many sides and still have one identity? One girl I know loves unicorns, but she can also be so tough that it surprises me. This contrasts makes me want to know her even more.
Is every person we meet complex? Has everyone we know sides we never knew about, experiences we never thought they could have? I still haven’t met enough people to give a scientifically answer, but I have been taken aback time and time again. Realization has hit me when I see that I really knew nothing about people I thought I understood.
I try to not judge people, both at work with my clients and in my own life. I also try to not be offended when people don’t like me, remembering that they have only seen some parts of me.
Complexity is easy. We crave it, we need it, we feel satisfied when we pursue it. We might not always get the answers we wanted, but we might have learned something new.
Two weeks ago I went home to my birthplace. One of the things I did, was walking to the mountain. Finally. High up there I breathed freely, watching the high mountains on the other side of our lake. It was beautiful. At the top I found an architectural wonder, where I could snuggle up between blankets and a good book. It was so quiet and peaceful, feeling the heartbeat of from the mountain. The sound of a rivulet, the heavy breathing as a climbed up to another top, the warm wind caressing the trees. But the loudest sound were born in the silence, where you can hear your thoughts and feel your emotions. That’s where you hear the steady heartbeat the most. It’s the sound of being alive.