|First Mince Pie of the year…Yummy!
It might have something to do with age, but I find that small things make me incredibly happy. It can be anything, really: a smile, a nice message from a friend, the first mince pie of the year, a beautiful dress (it must be my French side) or a run along the Serpentine (well, not today obviously, because it is pouring again). But here it is: nowadays I seem to be easier to please.
Just yesterday, I was asked whether I was training for a marathon (I am so not, I just jog to stay in reasonable shape). The question simply made my day. It made me feel like a pro.
The thing is, some of my friends are not like me. As in, not at all. I recently caught up with one of them, and she spent the whole time in tears because her husband is away on a business trip for three weeks. She was so sad. I tried to reassure her as best as I could. It was all going to be ok, she should focus on her children and relax a bit. It didn’t work. She couldn’t stop crying. It went like this:
‘-I miss him’ -sob sob sob
I gave her a tissue. She blew her nose noisily.
‘-what am I going to doooooo?’
‘-I miss him’ sob sob sob. Here we go again. Bring on the tissues. This is a tad boring.
I stopped talking, because there was no point. To be honest , I felt a bit miffed because my husband is also constantly traveling, and I simply got used to it. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like it, but I don’t make a big deal out of it, even if it means that I have to manage life’s mishaps and catastrophes on my own sometimes (for instance, flat tyre last weekend). Just saying. I am trying to be an independent woman. No need for emotional clutches. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. And it seems to be working.
Once my friend had gone, I made myself a cup of tea (my British side must have taken over). I started thinking: why are we so different? Why, in similar situations, can one person be happy, and the next so utterly miserable? When did we make the choice to pull ourselves together, or to start indulging in self-pity? How did we decide it? Why did it work out just fine for some of us and not so well for the others?
I have no clue. I can’t help thinking that we do have a choice and that it is up to us to decide how we react to various situations, but I might be out of whack.
What do you think? What makes you happy? Do we have a choice? Just wondering.
Muriel – A French Yummy Mummy In London