rosie abigail

I don’t think I’m alone in saying the last five years have been a whirlwind of highs and lows. I mean, hello, a global pandemic, political unrest, and a climate crisis is enough to make anyone feel like they’ve been shaken up and spun around.

On the smaller scale of things, I feel like my life has reflected that too. I got engaged, bought a house, started a cycle of DIY on said house, adopted a cat, got married, went on a dream honeymoon, and spent beloved time with friends and family. All definitely on the ‘highs’ end of the gamut. On the ‘lows side’? Well, I had to live through COVID as someone who is high risk, found our new home in a much worse state than when we viewed it, spent everyday battling endometriosis, had two surgeries in the space of six months, a chemical pregnancy, and to top it all off, a miscarriage. Now that’s what I call variety.

It sounds quite bitter to say I’ve come to expect the lows just as much as the highs. I like to think that’s realistic thinking. Or is it just the chronically ill mindset? It might sound bitter, but it doesn’t make me feel bitter. When you are within the lows, it can feel like you are bogged down; like you are in quicksand, slowly sinking. Especially if the lows stack on top of one another, a hit after another hit, with nothing around to help pull you out. It can be so easy to let the sand swallow you up, sinking amongst the mud and the dirt, until it looks like you were never there to begin with. But I’ve noticed there is something that I do which stops me sinking to the bottom. It doesn’t stop the lows from existing, it doesn’t stop me from slowly sinking, it doesn’t stop the sand scratching and cutting me. But it lets me hold a hand up to the light; it lets me keep my head above the surface; it keeps me breathing until the quicksand trickles or landslides away. And that is that there is joy to be found in almost everything.

I think one of the greatest misconceptions in live is that joy must be big. A kiss at the altar; stepping off a plane into the sun; holding your house keys for the first time; meeting the smallest and newest family member. These are, of course, beautiful markers of joy, but they are also big and rare. Joy can also be found in the most mundane of moments. It’s in the clouds breaking and autumn rain falling from the sky, just as you’ve sat in your armchair by the window with a good book and a sweet tea. It’s in your partner coming home from the shop with a treat you didn’t ask for, but they knew you would want. It’s in pulling on that Vinted purchase, finding that it fits like a glove, and swanning around the house feeling like a million pounds.  

Whilst there is joy to be found in the little things, I also believe there are sparks of joy and brightness in every single day. Even the bad ones. I might go as far to say especially the bad ones. I don’t remember much about the day I was rushed into hospital to have my appendix removed. I remember the pain, the worry, the confusion, but not the details. However, I do remember the messages from my friends making me laugh whilst waiting to go in for surgery. “What the difference between Rosie and a textbook? Rosie doesn’t have an appendix” will forever make me smile. When I was told during a scan that my ovary wasn’t moving and may not be working, I was shattered. When I came home and sat on the sofa, my cat jumped on my lap and bunted my face until I stopped crying and started laughing. Bad days. And yet, sparks of joy.

I’ve also found that, as an empath, I can make myself some joy in making joy for others. When I can’t see the woods for the trees, I can find lightness in reaching for someone else and helping them through their own forest. When I went through my miscarriage earlier this year, I was the one going through it physically. But I wasn’t the only one going through it emotionally. My husband was there every step of the way, feeling the same pain and sadness, sometimes pushing it to the side so he could ensure I was physically healing. Once I had recovered from the physical aspect, I kept requesting to be the one to make dinner. I would choose meals that my husband loves. Seeing his smile break across his face all week with the joy of homecooked and thoughtful food was enough to start that spark of joy back in my own heart.

I am a strong believer that in order to experience the true highs of life, we must experience the lows as well. And whilst I don’t wish the lows on myself or anyone, I think it’s important to remember it is a blessing to be able to feel things so deeply, so strongly. Because, one day, we won’t. We won’t feel those highs, the lows, the in-betweens. And that’s how I find joy amongst the hard things; knowing that we are here to feel things so extensively, that when we experience joy, it is unlike anything else.

Rosie x

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