Some days I wake up with the feeling that the burdens of the entire world are on my shoulders.
I get out of bed, brush my teeth, get dressed and drive myself to work, listening to the noise on the radio, one way or another. I get my work done, I try to blend in it, and just allow the day to pass.
So many days are wasted in my life. They just follow one another, aimlessly and endlessly, it seems.
On other days, I wake up hyper and enthusiastic. I feel that that day is going to be different, liberating in some way. Every routine task becomes a joy, and the day seems to be too short to absorb every thought in my head.
What makes the difference? What makes me float over clouds some days and soak in misery on other days?
A good friend of mine always says: we are driven by a survival instinct. We want to keep going. No matter how depressing some days seem to be, our souls want to soar, they want to taste other flavors, and go through a little bit more. Only a little bit more, before we give up. Always, a little bit more.
I don’t want to only survive, I want to be happy.
Happiness does come from within. The fact that a song, whether a silly or a meaningful one, can entirely change my day, helps me survive a lot of days. When I sing along, driving in my car in the endless traffic of this country, the world seems to suddenly turn into a better place.
When my18-month old nephew runs into my arms and shows me his broken car, and tells me, in is own way, about his visit to the doctor, to the pool, the world becomes a lovely warm place that I never want to leave. When he sings with me and holds my hands, I am the happiest in the world.
When my father tells me he’s proud of me, and when my mother hugs me without me expecting it, I am happy to have brought them happiness in their life, one way or another. I am happy that I am theirs.
When the rain falls for the first time in a season, and the earth gives away that beautiful smell of God, when I see kids running about excitedly under the rain, I am happy.
When I am on the plane flying home, and I start seeing Amman from above, the deserts, the green, the little circles surrounding the airport that I never understood what they are, I start thinking about my grandmother and how much I missed her, I am happy.
When I learn a new craft, a new language, or a new sport, I am happy and proud of myself. I think about the million other things that are still waiting for me to learn, and that there is time to do them all, I am happy.
When I write, when I express myself, and let it all out, I am happy.
And that’s why I am in a much better place now. Thank God, all the time.
I get out of bed, brush my teeth, get dressed and drive myself to work, listening to the noise on the radio, one way or another. I get my work done, I try to blend in it, and just allow the day to pass.
So many days are wasted in my life. They just follow one another, aimlessly and endlessly, it seems.
On other days, I wake up hyper and enthusiastic. I feel that that day is going to be different, liberating in some way. Every routine task becomes a joy, and the day seems to be too short to absorb every thought in my head.
What makes the difference? What makes me float over clouds some days and soak in misery on other days?
A good friend of mine always says: we are driven by a survival instinct. We want to keep going. No matter how depressing some days seem to be, our souls want to soar, they want to taste other flavors, and go through a little bit more. Only a little bit more, before we give up. Always, a little bit more.
I don’t want to only survive, I want to be happy.
Happiness does come from within. The fact that a song, whether a silly or a meaningful one, can entirely change my day, helps me survive a lot of days. When I sing along, driving in my car in the endless traffic of this country, the world seems to suddenly turn into a better place.
When my18-month old nephew runs into my arms and shows me his broken car, and tells me, in is own way, about his visit to the doctor, to the pool, the world becomes a lovely warm place that I never want to leave. When he sings with me and holds my hands, I am the happiest in the world.
When my father tells me he’s proud of me, and when my mother hugs me without me expecting it, I am happy to have brought them happiness in their life, one way or another. I am happy that I am theirs.
When the rain falls for the first time in a season, and the earth gives away that beautiful smell of God, when I see kids running about excitedly under the rain, I am happy.
When I am on the plane flying home, and I start seeing Amman from above, the deserts, the green, the little circles surrounding the airport that I never understood what they are, I start thinking about my grandmother and how much I missed her, I am happy.
When I learn a new craft, a new language, or a new sport, I am happy and proud of myself. I think about the million other things that are still waiting for me to learn, and that there is time to do them all, I am happy.
When I write, when I express myself, and let it all out, I am happy.
And that’s why I am in a much better place now. Thank God, all the time.
Always keep counting your blessings on the good days, and on gloomy days, come back to your list of the good days and makes sure to remind yourself:). Always there is something to feel blessed for or with..
ReplyDeleteSalma, your words resonate inside me, keep writing, its beautiful how you think and how you openly express your thinking!
ReplyDelete