I spend a great deal of my time writing about the importance of having a positive outlook and a healthy attitude towards life, body image and decision-making. I consistently preach self-love, resilience and optimism.
But let’s be honest, these things can be quite difficult to put into practise on an uninspiring afternoon in winter.
I have been reading lots lately about women in their twenties putting too much pressure on themselves, questioning why they aren’t reaching milestones within particular age brackets and wondering why they haven’t reached ‘perfection’ – whatever that may be – yet. And every account I read speaks to me. I am as worried as they are that I won’t be successful in the way that I want to be. I panic about leaving having babies too late and then struggling to conceive. I worry about fat deposits, cellulite and financial difficulty. I worry about ageing, hair removal and gender inequality. In fact, I worry about pretty much everything. But the thing that lies at the heart of my troubles is time. A fear of running out of it, not having enough of it and simply just wasting it.
And I don’t think I am alone in this.
I am lucky enough to be able to walk to work, but even outside the sweaty confines of the tube, I can still see the greying cheeks of those on their morning commutes, the same people in line waiting for their coffee and the familiar look of misery on everyone’s face. In all honesty, I wake up every single day and wonder what the hell we are all doing: sleep, wake, coffee, work, gym, sleep, repeat. I can’t help but wonder whether or not we’ve all sort of… missed the point?
Don’t get me wrong; I understand how the world works. I know that we have to work to eat and I know that employment keeps us sane. But I’m starting to feel like life is passing us by in a flash without any of us taking the time to actually enjoy it.
Thinking about it though, I started writing this post on a particularly low (very chilly) lunch break at work last week and I am finishing it at the end of a pretty okay (sunny) Sunday. And it’s at this point that I realise that (however scary it might be) we actually need time to pass to snap us out of things. The beginning of the year is always tough. The departure of festive joy and drop in temperature is enough to make anyone miserable. We’re all so busy huddled under duvets, abandoning new year’s resolutions and yearning for some sunshine that we forget to appreciate January to March. But then, just when you least expect it, spring arrives. And everything is okay again.
Things aren’t perfect – I still can’t feel my toes and the trees are bare – but there are glimmers of sunshine and change in each day that goes by and, for now, that’s alright with me. Just be sure to inject a little bit of something you love into your life, whenever you possibly can.
Welcome to spring.