Do you ever have moments when you catch yourself and think how lucky you are? It’s a filthy, cold, stormy Saturday night in St Leonards. I’m sitting by the fire after a hot bath, making bears and doing the odd bit of knitting. I’m watching Netflix donated by a close friend on a big tv donated by another. I’ve got my lovely red pyjamas on in my lovely flat and there is no place I would rather be, what’s more, I finally feel well. If I look back on the state I was in this time last year, and all the hideous things that were happening and happened later, I was lucky to get through from then to now in one piece.
I have to admit, I don’t always feel like this but while I do I feel it is important to acknowledge it. It’s been an uphill struggle but I get paid for drawing and painting stuff, people actually give me money to come up with mad ideas, how cool is that? I get valued for my skills and am privileged to be able to impart them to others and now I’m making bears, in the warm while the wind howls and the rain blatters outside. Most importantly, I have got to a point in life where I know who and what I am and I have the clarity to be able to get through this world on my own terms without getting sidetracked. I’ve tried hard to learn from my mistakes and I make damn sure I don’t repeat them, I’ve started to develop wisdom, at least enough to know I am not yet wise, but I’m getting there.
And as I snuggle up in bed to the sounds of the chaos outside, I know how lucky I am not to be part of it.