Putting on Your Own Sunscreen: Part 4

No Feeling is Final

“How are you?”

That question is a simple, formal greeting, we ask each other every day.

Multiple times a day, in fact, it slips from our lips forming a conversation starter with friends, lovers, and complete strangers standing opposite us at the supermarket checkout.

But how often do we reply with honesty?

The answer to such a simple question is usually layered in complexity, with multiple all-expanding dimensions.

More often than not, despite the multitude of overthinking whirling thoughts in my mind, I try and put on a brave face, determined to be this sort of miraculous sunbeam. I’m determined to stay relentlessly optimistic.

But honestly, to answer that question, of course, I’m happy. But I’m also terribly sad.

Picture me dancing to Disclosure, with Sam Smith belting out Latch, deep in a sweaty mosh, but I’m also crying.

Mixed emotions baby.

Life is good. I mean, I’m living in London. One cannot complain. I have a roof over my head and I don’t have to worry about grocery shopping bills. I’m incredibly lucky to be here.

I’m having adventures. Exploring the city, going to epic gigs and festivals. Meeting new people, making gorgeous new friends.

But sometimes, it feels like my favourite colour is missing from the day.

I have life-changing friendships and an unconditionally loving family.

I am not alone. But sometimes I feel so goddamn lonely.

So bloody overwhelmed. SO lost.

Just last week, I went to see Lime Cordiale, this groovy Aussie band perform in Camden Town. Idris Elba made a cameo and all I could think about was this silly jump-out-of-a-building-and-perform-feats-no-human-could-possibly-do scene he’s in with the Rock in the Fast and Furious spinoff Hobbs and Shaw.

A new Kiwi pal was ecstatic to be there, to be in London, having just moved over a month ago.

Her vibe was infectious, but on the tube, heading home, I pondered over her energy and BUZZ. I wondered how I could find that in such consistency.

Sometimes it feels as if my feelings of being scared cloud out the excitement.

I’m not despairing, I’m not overthinking. I just ache. I just long.

I’ve curated this little playlist this year - Into the Next Sunset. And it features songs that make my heart yearn. I listen to it, primarily, on long-distance train rides. The nostalgic, melancholic melodies are the soundtrack to this year.

My heart is full of holes.

People-shaped holes that can never be filled with anything other than the people they will forever hold space for.

I wish I could call up one of my best friends and catch up with her for ciggies, chips and cocktails. I wish I could go dancing and get silly with some of my best glorious dance-pals.

I wish I could have an 8-hour or even better a never-ending phone call with another best friend-turned-somebody-I-used-to-know and plan our next spontaneous adventure.

I wish I could have a hug from my Mum and go hiking with my dad. To get a coffee and custard square with my Grandma. For my cousin to give me fake eyelashes that mean I’ll never be panda-eyed when I cry.

But I live thousands and thousands of kilometres away from the people I love most.

Travelling is a miraculous adventure and I am so grateful to be able to do this. I’m so grateful for the special souls I’ve met along the way.

But travelling is also bloody challenging.

Sometimes I worry I’m never going to find the place where I fit just right.

I’ve found echoes of it, folded up in arms that hold me tight, a glimpse of my reflection in someone’s eyes, floating in laughter made by my favourite smile. But, then, all too suddenly, the light changed. And I have to drive on, move on. And I realise I’m still figuring it all out.

Sometimes, we just fuck things up.

But I’m really proud of myself if anything. Because, even though I feel terrified, I’m still out here doing it. Constantly throwing myself off bridges and flailing, falling, diving into the deep end.

I know the scariest things will become the moments where I grow the most.

The feelings I’m feeling are thick and deep and boundless. As I’ve grown older, I’ve often felt scared of just how much I can feel, feeling starkly different from those around me. My feelings spill out of me, unable to be contained, unwilling too. But these days, I feel steady within myself. If anything, from this crazy, chaotic year, I have built within myself a steady anchor, to hold my keel even, despite the tempestuous waves of life.

I am learning that all you can do is feel the feelings. All of them. And then let them go. Like clouds floating by, like the wind swaying in the sky. When you want to cry, let yourself cry, sob, let it all out. When you are so stoked, yell out to the world farkkkk yes!

All you can do is feel the sorrow, the fear, the joy, the bliss, the sorrow, the fear, the joy, the bliss, the sorrow, the fear, the joy, the bliss.

Two nights ago, I wept all night. Last night, I danced down the middle of a street at 10pm, listening to a sexy-French melody playing out of noise-cancelling headphones, will a belly full of Indian curry (and I was sober).

Tonight, tears streaked down my face, vision blurred with city-light glare as I sat on a bus to collect my 20-pound second-hand skateboard purchase (she’s still a dreamer wanting to be good at skateboarding, lol).

But then, new purchase underfoot, I skated home and felt joy in my veins as I felt the soft breeze ruffle my hair. Now, I am hopeful, despite the ache, and so I sit with the ache, and trust it will ease. This year, I’ve learned to not let feelings overwhelm me.

I’ve learned that in life, all you can do is just keep moving forward. And trust that no feeling is final. You learn to live with any aches. Missing people is the price you pay for loving people, deeply. And I wouldn’t change it.

So feel it all.

To experience life as fully as possible and taste its succulent sweetness, you’ve got to let your heart be free to feel all it wants.

And if anything, something makes you feel remarkably alive crying into a cereal bowl at midnight.