The quandary of fulfilment.

It's a funny old word, fulfilment. One that truly means something entirely different to each and every one of us. My relationship with fulfilment has changed slowly, steadily, frustratingly over a period of years. To my teenage mind, it meant settling, having a lack of ambition. To my adult self, it is the long, difficult, stumbling road to the acceptance of life as it is. To recognise the difference between having purposeful hope for the future based on achievable goals and aspirational dreams which are beautiful places for the mind to wander on the hopeless, lonely days but will never exist in the here and now. One of the crucial steps along the way is almost certainly learning to be grounded in the here and now. To have an idea where we're headed, but to accept the place we're in now has everything we need to be happy. If happiness is a combination of reality and perception, then the world we create for ourselves is more crucial to our wellbeing than anything else.  Life can often feel like staring down a tunnel where the entrance draws us in unwittingly and the signposts to the exit fails to make themselves known. Of course it's frightening, but what awaits at the other end makes the fear of the unknown entirely worthwhile. As humans we're programmed to run from the unknown and uncertainty and yet surely taking the chance in the first place is the only way to remind ourselves we're alive, we have a will, we're in control of our own direction. Life never stops teaching us lessons, there is every bit as much value in times of adversity as the periods of joy. We all want happiness so dearly that we're not equipped to deal with the sadness that's an undeniable reverse of the same coin. The thing to value and learn from is that it's possible to strive for better whilst being content with the present. If we spend all our days focused on what lies ahead, we miss out on the untapped pleasure of today.  Dreams are curious things. We spend most of our lives from early childhood onwards believing that we'll only ever know happiness 'when our dreams come true'. But our hopes evolve, and all the time and energy that we instill in the pursuit of the out of reach could be so much more wisely put to use improving the life we've actually got.  We fixate on the next goal, spend all our time trying to make the next step a reality. Then, if we're lucky enough to get there, its success is no more than a fleeting moment of pride and joy, before we decide upon and target the next step in the journey we create to happiness. I've started to realise that what's important is not the reaching of a target, but rather the enormous value of its pursuit. The fulfilment comes from the chase rather than the capture, which is why each goal we have is immediately replaced by another. if we already has everything we wanted, what would be the purpose in anything? The lesson I've learnt is that there is a difference between a hope, a wish and a dream. I can reconcile the here and now I've got with the future I hope I can create. Tomorrow always looks so full of sunshine because by its very nature it's elusive and ephemeral; it never comes. All we do have is today, and if we can end all our todays with the fulfilment that comes of knowing we've faced each adversity or challenge with hopefulness and acceptance, today can be every bit as special as tomorrow. 

Letting go of control.

One of the most valuable lessons I've ever learned is that it's ok not to be in control. That in all likelihood, the greatest deal of control we can ever have is in letting go and opening ourselves up to the opportunities that may come without being tied to the thoughts we've known. The difficulty is that well, it's a hard thing to do. It takes a long time, and unlearning a lot of the belief we grow up to have. We never realise how much we are being held back by the illusion that we can have the say in everything that happens to us. Really, none of us have any idea what will happen tomorrow, next week, next year or the year after that. It's frightening not to have a plan, daunting to not have control over the direction we're headed in. But theres are also things to be gained that are much more valuable than that; freedom and hope. The freedom to let ourselves be guided by new opportunities, new people, new places and the hope that is opened up to us by no longer clinging to an (understandable) belief. The dark side of control is that it only becomes so important in our happiest, and therefore most vulnerable times. When we're so frightened of losing what we've found, that we try to manage everything so uniformly and cling to it so tightly that we forget what's really important. To be as kind to ourselves as we can be, and to recognise that no matter what the world throws at us, we'll manage because we always do. We're pretty resilient creatures, us humans. To let go, and be free of the anxiety, worry and fear that accompany control like an unwanted house guest is such a comfort that everything we risk losing in the process is compensated for a hundred times over by the simple acknowledgement that you're going to be absolutely fine, that everything gets easier. It's enough to give everything your best go. If it goes wrong, so what? You'll still be breathing, you'll still have all the people you care for, and a new start with each new day. Next time you find yourself worrying over something, just take a minute and put it into perspective. Most things that you worry about will never happen. Don't let them take up any more room in your head that could be saved for happier, better things.

Making today count.

My watch stopped today. At 1.47, time stopped ticking. For a second, I thought to myself what it would be like if that second was the last one there would ever be. If there was no solution so simple as replacing a battery. So, if you only had one day left on earth, what would you fill it with? I have the feeling that it wouldn't be the huge, life-changing events or occasions or gestures you always suspect you'd choose. It's probably the things within your consciousness, the things that occur in your every day life and always acknowledge as a moment of happiness.

Off the top of my head, these are the three things that popped into my head:

1. Eat a whole New York cheesecake to myself. Without a second's remorse, just sheer gluttony.

2. Stay up all night and watch the Northern Lights.

3. Write a note for everyone I've ever cared for, explaining without any thought to the consequences, what they meant, and how they'd made my life better for however long the period they'd been in it.

So, if today was all we had left, what would you do with your final hours?

Embracing change, valuing constancy.

When I was 7, my grandparents went to St. Petersburg. When they came home, my grandma gave me a set of Russian dolls she'd come across in an old street market. I was fascinated by them, the way that each one was alike, yet different. They fitted together perfectly, and if you took one away, everything changed; it didn't work any more.

All the way through the rest of my life, I've kept those dolls safe, and any time I've needed reassurance, or reminding of something, I've gone to find them, taken them apart and then put them back together again. They've become a symbol, a kind of metaphor for the way that life often unsettles us and we need to find comfort in anything we associate with safety. So often, we find ourselves in situations that unnerve us, make us worry that we won't know how respond to them. We get taken in directions that we're not sure we want to travel. Along the way, we take a turn and the people we wanted to take on the journey have gone the opposite way.

One thing I've always loved them for is the way that each doll gets smaller, but it remains the same. Its character remains unchanged. Life can often make us feel insignificant, as though we've lost some of who we are, and the hopes we hold. Really, all that's happened is we've temporarily been overtaken by circumstances that we wished were better and have challenged us, but we take from it the fact that we have kept our character. Our spirit has endured all of those challenges and it's still there, with a smile at a memory of the happiest of days, it's still reminding us of its presence.

When we're facing adversity, we can so easily begin to feel that people who've known us for a huge part of our lives are changing, and we're standing still. If you open the dolls to reveal the smaller one beneath, then the next and so on, each doll is essentially the same. When you get to the end, you see that the essence of what you began with has remain unchanged. The lesson it's always taught me, at least the way I've interpreted it, is that our lives become tangled, and fraught, and challenging. An odd look or a strange remark from someone we have always felt we can be sure of, we often interpret as being a sign of a shift in our relationship. We assume that something has changed, and yet to the other person it would most likely have passed by entirely unnoticed. Then a small amount of time passes, and they say or do something that reminds you of a memory, or of the very thing that made you so fond of them in the first place. And you remind yourself that all those anxieties you had were all in your head. Because nothing "real", nothing that means something, the people who are special to you, don't ever change. And if there's something you hoped would, there's nothing at all to stop you from doing it.

I love to revisit these dolls, because however long the periods between visits, my memory of them is exactly the same. I never forget the way their hair curls at the neck, the shade of their lips and the way the wood gently scratches your finger as you squeeze them apart. Each day of our lives, how often are we reminded of something significant by something seemingly banal? All those times are really evidence of how often we cling to memories. I'm quite sure that the reason we retreat to the sanctuary of our memories is that we're searching for a comfort that only the past can provide. It provides it because it's completed, it can't be undone, and there's a safety in it. The future contains uncertainty, necessitates a kind of bravery in all of us to take a step forward. It's daunting, there's no doubt of that. Even the most headstrong and determined person takes a second to consider their next move. The things we're fearful of are usually really those that we want the most. But we're only frightened because we're worried of how we'll cope if reality doesn't live up the anticipation, frightened that the next time won't be as good as the last.

I've had those dolls for 18 years, and they've been an unexpected treasure. They've remained the same while life, as it does for all of us, has changed. The minor details in our stories alter, get edited, but the plot survives all its modifications. Those dolls look and feel every bit the same as they were on that day I opened them all as an excited 7-year-old. Don't be afraid of taking the unfamiliar road. You take everything with you that has ever existed, and it can't be changed. There may be a comfort in the past, but there's excitement in the future. And you'll never find it unless you try.

The Inferiority Dilemma.

First of all, I don't really know what I'm aiming to achieve with this new blog. It's in no way intended to be a guide or advice as to how anyone should be approaching life. We are all on our own path in the end and what is right for one person may be totally inappropriate for another. What I think it really is is somewhere to record my experiences of how counselling and therapy have helped me achieve some kind of contentment, an agreement I've made with the world that we're going to muddle along together just fine.

It might not be any help to anyone, but I know for myself how much comfort I gain just from knowing other people have felt the same way I feel. I spend a huge part of my time wondering how the world sees me. Wondering if it's the me I try so hard to present to the universe. Then I wonder why I'm so frightened of letting my guard down. What it is that I'm so worried people will see? I know I'm a "good" person, I pride myself on being there for everyone, for trying to be kind at every opportunity and for recognising the importance of compassion. But years of getting lost in thought has made me realise I try too hard to be perfect. I want to be all things to all people and somewhere along the way I lost myself. I draw validation from the image other people have of me, and I wish that I was confident enough in my own ability, contribution and worth not to be so, but I'm not. And that's ok.

Over several years, the essence of what I've taken from people's view of me is how grounded and wise they tell me I am, how sensible and 'together' I am. Well, the truth, the truth I find so hard to admit is, I'm not. And I feel vulnerable and laid bare in admitting that. It's how I want everyone to see me, and that is essentially the thrust of this blog. Do we suffer inferiority because we want to be as good as everybody else? Or because we want to be a better version of ourselves ?

Not a single one of us is is a blank canvas. We all have blurred edges, gaps we wish were filled with something just a bit more special. We don't need to be a masterpiece, when a work in progress is so much more exciting. We cling to the memories of happiness, carrying them around with us as symbols of achievement and a reminder that at one point in time we really and truly meant something to somebody, somewhere. But there is control in letting go, remembering we don't have to cling on so tightly. Anybody we've ever cared for, who has cared for us stays with us. Nobody is ever out of reach if they were ever within it in the beginning.

I also think we have something to be grateful for for the painful times. When you're in the midst of hurting, you are desperate for someone to take it away, for it to be gone. Then, when the blackness has lifted and the rawness dissipates, we can start to look for the sun again.There are periods of sadness that in retrospect have taught me an awful lot, and I accept that without them, I wouldn't approach life so philosophically and pragmatically as I try to. After the rain comes the rainbow, after the winter comes the spring and after suffering comes wisdom, and belief in yourself that you've survived something you thought would overcome you.

My personal battle, what I've spent years struggling with is the idea that maybe I'm not the kind of person who can be loved. I worry I'm unloveable. But when I've faced up to that worry, it doesn't seem so bad. If I'm not, then that's just the way life has turned out and I'm ok to just let that idea be. It's out there, but it doesn't consume me. The hardest but most valuable lesson is that we're all just hoping to get through the day with as much happiness as we can find and avoiding the sadness that is always waiting to make itself known, hiding around the corner.

Please take from this blog one thought. You don't have to be perfect to be happy. You just need to be the best you you can be. I believe I'm the most I can be and I try to give out to the world everything I can contribute. That's enough. I've finally learnt that I'm enough.