Trashing 2024
So there I was, merrily scrolling through Facebook on NYE enjoying people’s recaps about how their year had been, when I noticed a few posts about how ‘2024 can just do one’ (fuck off in other words) and ‘Bring on 2025!’
It’s nothing new. I see the same tossing of the old year out with the trash every NYE with statements about how rubbish it was, laced with bravado and hope for the year ahead. And I get it, I really do. Those who know me know I am no stranger to life dealing me some pretty shitty hands. (As in circumstances. I like to think my actual hands are quite nice. Ten fingers and all).
Some years are particularly rough; especially if there have been deaths (of people, marriages, era’s) or serious illness (be it acute or chronic – I think many people reading this probably know a thing or a thousand about chronic). So yeah, some years can really suck balls.
Joy and suffering
But here’s the thing: we can’t know true joy unless we also know true suffering. Now, I’m not talking the trauma of having to eat kedgeree and brussel sprouts as a kid, albeit that DID cause me great suffering (excuse me while I go vomit from the memories). No, I’m talking loss, grief, injury, illness, heartbreak, financial hardships, etc etc – all the tough stuff that makes or breaks us.
Basically, if we didn’t experience all the shades of shit that life can throw at us, then we wouldn’t notice the rainbows for the beautiful rays of light that they are, or appreciate that some colours – or aspects of our lives – will shine brighter than others at any given time.
The darker the shit, the brighter the rainbows
Having spent 3 years housebound – often bedridden – with Severe ME, and been lucky enough to eventually improve up to Mild ME, I’ve learned that the darker the shit, the brighter the rainbows.
For example, I remember one sunny day in particular, back when my ME was Severe. As the bright sunlight filled my bedroom, I laid in bed staring at the wall and at the bricks of next doors house (the rather depressing view from my bed) thinking to myself, “well, this sucks. Summer is my favourite season and I wish so badly that I could go outside and feel the warm sun on my skin. But holy shit, despite being stuck in bed, I am SO ridiculously grateful that I’m not sensitive to light. So many people in my situation exist in darkness due to the excruciating pain that light causes them. I enjoy having sunlight in my room – it makes this situation more bearable, and I’m so lucky I can still tolerate it.”
Umm… how fucked up is that? I can’t walk, talk, live independently, work, have hobbies or any kind of life. But I can tolerate sunlight through my window and that is fantastic?! Seriously. I had not given daylight any thought before ME came along and turned the light off on the rest of my life.
I guess the point of this story is – rainbows are very personal, and their rays can often be perceived in the unlikeliest and darkest of places.
Lonely child
More recently, my six-year-old son O came up to my bedroom, saying he’s lonely downstairs on his own. I was in bed, utterly fatigued with an ME flare-up and sooooo worn out from Christmas. But I set a 30min timer, and when that timer went off, I hauled myself downstairs and played with O for 30mins, followed by another 30mins in bed to rest/recover. And repeat.
Now, knowing that my baby was lonely downstairs sucked – because most (healthy) parents are able to at least be in the same room as their child without keeling over from sensory overload, light-headedness and crippling exhaustion.
But knowing that I COULD play with him for a bit in between my rests … that’s a rainbow I was grateful for that day. There was a time when my ME was so severe that I worried I would never get to play with my child, and he would grow up with zero memories of me as a ‘fun mum’.
“I’m used to it”
There was another instance a few weeks ago when I just couldn’t play. Not even after a rest. I just wasn’t well enough. The conversation was short and went like this:
Me: I’m so sorry baby, I really wish I could play, but Mummy just doesn’t have any energy today.
O: It’s okay, I’m used to it.
… Ouch. That REALLY hurt my heart. Because it’s true. He IS used to it. And he shouldn’t have to be.
However, because he’s never been privileged enough to have a mother who’s always been well enough to play, it’s therefore possible that when we do play together, it’s even more special for both of us than if I’d been able to do it all the time.
… I guess for me, rainbows are often about perspective.
Taking things for granted/Sheep’s bum holes
The other day I explained to O how things or activities we have or do all the time can end up not feeling special anymore, because we take them for granted. I likened it to chocolate cake and why we don’t eat it every day (because, aside from all the sugar turning him feral – it wouldn’t feel special or fun anymore). He instantly understood what I meant and likened it to sheep’s bum holes. (Ummm, say that again kid?!)
We live in the country, so we see a lot of sheep when we’re driving around. O told me how great it was the first time he saw a sheep’s bum hole – however, now that he’s seen lots, he’s “tired of seeing sheep’s bum holes.”
Poor thing. It’s a hard life. Still, his bum hole analogy is way more fun than my chocolate cake one. (My kid is as weird as I am – proud Mummy moment!)
What I’m trying to say
So, coming back to the whole ‘2024 can fuck off – bring on 2025!’, I guess what I’m trying to say is, we don’t need to relegate entire years to the rubbish tip on NYE. Because, without the dark years, the better ones might go under-appreciated or worse – unnoticed.
I agree wholeheartedly with Charlie Chaplin when he said: ‘you’ll never see a rainbow if you’re looking down.’
… But at the same time, I also believe it’s okay to not always be looking for rainbows or to see them all the time. A bit like O and his sheep: too many bum holes gets tiring.
Anyways, a belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all you lovely supportive readers. I appreciate each and every one of you. May 2025 bring you brighter rainbows and just the right amount of sheep’s bum holes. 😊