
Three hundred and sixty seven days ago today, I was discharged from hospital. It was my second hospital stay of the summer, and I was happy to escape but demoralised and fed up of medicines. I spent a further six weeks or so going for visits to the nurses for dressing changes every few days, and pretty much lost the entire summer- not that I hadn't already, as the only two warm weeks of last year were the ones of my second hospital stay.
Today, three hundred and sixty seven days, (528 480 minutes, not quite as lyrical as 525600 minutes, ha) I had another day of life without filters, life without brakes, life without the walls. I know people inwardly roll their eyes at me a little when I mention highway 1 day in conversation, and if I was someone else hearing me mentioning it, I'd probably do the same a little, but. It just has to be said, how genuine the difference is between before then and after, the drive and enthusiasm I now have for life.
TANGENT, but. I have always been slightly bemused at how people have confidence, to the extent that I wondered if I missed days in school where confidence had been taught. I was the kind of kid who knew things out of books, who could reason out something logical well enough, but to figure out people, pffffffffft fuck that, people were HARD! Then in various old jobs I began to gain confidence through my abilities *at the job*, 'oh, hi, I'm good at getting things done and doing them right, therefore I'm worth something.' 'oh, hi, I'm great at keeping in with my coworkers, therefore I'm okay with people' and then when the job changes, when that sure situation goes, I fell flat on my face and wondered what to do next.
Now, I reckon there's two different types of confidence. Confidence in what you do, and confidence in who you are. And mistakes in previous situations have been when I was trying to make the 'what i do' confidence stand for both. Now, I can step back if something goes wrong or if I make a mistake, take a breath, and sort it out without going into a tailspin of general fail, and without letting myself think 'well if I got that wrong, what other things have I done wrong too?' (well, I can most of the time, hah)
And I've had highway-1-esque 'realisation moments' before, (ends of Thorpe seasons, and end of the bus, to name a few), but the thing is and the point of what I'm trying to say, is that I approached them in a similar way to the 'what I do' style of confidence, in that 'hey i dealt with this situation or group of situations really fucking well, therefore I can deal with everything well' That sounds logical, but it didn't work- what I needed was the impetus to see that I can deal with everything well without needing to base it on certain situations.
Anyway, onto tonight. Tonight, I went to a gig. Arcade Fire at the Hackney Empire. Excluding Coachella, this has been my first live music experience in three years. I met up with a bunch of people from the Us Kids Know forums, some of which I knew from previous occasions (Tom, Adam, Jack, Fiona, among others ) and some of which I could at least pick out from Facebook profile pictures. In total, I think there were roughly thirty forum members at the gig, about five or six of which I'd met/talked to before. Not once did it cross my mind that I'd only talked to about 25% of the forum members that were going to be there. Not once did I fret or worry that I was going to make a twat out of myself. I arrived at the venue to queue, I wasn't the first forum member there, but the first out of the ones I knew, and once I'd figured out they were forum people I walked up and introduced myself without a single hesitation. I got on really well with some of them that I hadn't really had a chance to talk to before, found common ground when talking about travelling and things and yay. :)
It was only on the way home, thoroughly knackered and euphoric and face-achingly happy, that I even realised just how much worrying had not entered my mind. And how much of a fucking huge thing this is for me. At the gig, I danced with abandon, not caring about how knackered my dress would get or how messed up my hair would be. Not obsessing over the groups and circles that formed but instead jumping right into them. I sang, not worrying about who could hear me, I danced and jumped, not worrying about who was behind me. I wandered around trying to get a setlist, didn't get one, but squealed at Tom happily when he managed to secure one for himself through sheer belligerence.
So now, after an amusing interlude trying to help a random drunk man with the Metro crossword, I am home. Messed up hair, eyeliner smudged as fuck, wrinkled clothes and trashed shoes. Every muscle in my body is aching, and those that aren't got unintentionally bruised by all the jumping around. AND YET. I looked up at the sky when walking home, and noticed the stars. Noticed the clouds gathered into wisps that almost looked like three concentric arches going over the trees of the forest. Noticed how fresh and clear the air was, almost like it is ACTUALLY SUMMER. I grinned, grinned so much that tears nearly came to my eyes, just thinking about how genuinely happy I am to be alive, to be alive and living and experiencing these beautiful moments, one after the other. To not be scared of what might be, or thinking of what might have been or could have been, just flat-out living and experiencing every single thing, because life is definitely beautiful and incredibly fucking SHORT.
and this is where I say I'm very grateful to know everybody, especially those who have been along for the ride for years, and to reiterate to live every second. LOVE.
(i fucking love music. crazy how a collection of sounds brings so many people together, right?