I’m nobody special. I’m just an average everyday person. And I don’t want to do anything extraordinary. Nothing special, or of monumental proportion. I don’t want to make a big impact and I harbour no lofty ambitions. Call me selfish, but all I really want to do is be happy. And believe it or not, for some of us, that comes from very simple, ordinary things. Like writing. Like keeping a home. Like being fit and healthy. Like having time to read a book at the end of the day. Like travelling. Like going with the gut. Like in helping others. Like being okay with feeling things and not having to question them all.
For some of us, the simplicity of being happy is second nature. Some of us have to work at it. I belong to the latter and it’s taken me a good long while to discover how very simple it actually is. And as always the flipside of such a realisation is a decision. For far too long I’ve convinced myself otherwise. Getting lost in high castles of duty, a higher purpose, ambition, career, goals, challenges and the like.
Today, I’ve realised for some of us, there is no higher purpose. There is just the need to be happy. And that happiness doesn’t always come from doing something that needs approval and validation. It comes from very ordinary, personal things. Things that nobody out there needs to get, understand or approve of. It comes with a decision that doesn’t always make sense to everyone alike. And today I realised that it doesn’t need to.
This has been a long time coming, and as it happens, writing makes me happy. To write, the way I like it. To write for myself, rather than to a brief, for a client, or to a word count. To write as me, without donning the garb of an external voice. The only strategy I ever want to have is to write as I please, and how I please. The only creative positioning I want is to write with feeling. And that’s all I want to do. Write. Bake, write about baking. Travel, write about traveling. Feel, write about what I feel. Watch a movie, end up crying, write about it. Eat something gobsmackingly awesome, write about just how awesome it was. Visit someone, write about it. Learn something new, write all about it…think, write…you get the drift.
And I cannot expect everyone to get it. Because there will always be the 1% who will think otherwise. The 1% that advocates willingly embracing pain as a by product of diligence, discipline and integrity.
But I belong to the 99% that believes in my own measure of diligence, discipline and integrity. My own understanding of struggle, my personal experiences against which to weigh a decision. And that is something that will never be understood by all. And maybe they don’t need to be. But in sticking with what I believe, what I want to do and how I want to live my life, I believe I can transcend the cursory reasons for doing the things we do. Sticking with a job. Choosing a spouse. Contribute to a charity. Whatever it may be.
So, it ends here. No more explaining. No more stories. No more obsessing over it. I’m probably not going go go through life the way I had originally imagined. I was perhaps the last to see it, but better late than never. But I’m here now. And this is me, embracing the 99% that I belong to.