Real Living... it could almost be the title for one of the hoards of 'Women's magazines' lining the news agent's shelves... yet 'real' is the exact opposite of what they are.
A friend recently passed me on a stack of her mags (living in a foreign country, mags tend to get passed around and well read). I almost put them straight in the bin. Over the years, and with maturity, I have noticed that directly after reading such magazines my dissatisfaction with some aspect of my life tends to grow, be it body, clothes, state of the house, career or cooking and parenting. Something always feels 'not quite good enough'. Through negative association, and a kind of self-aware damage limitation, I now simply stay away.
Yet, a stack of these mags made it into my house, and instead of the bin they ended up in the loo. Good toilet reading, I thought.
Aware of their strong negative power, I have dipped in and out lightly, not taking much too seriously. But one new thing I noticed was the grand, grand in-authenticity of a life they portray. Yes, I know it sounds obvious, but for a while I have been mulling over the crazy situation in which we find a 'projected' (i.e. media-led) image of life and the huge, I mean HUGE, difference with real life.
In an interview with a celebrity, the said celebrity mentions her children, "...such a joy, when they are happy I'm happy, I love parenthood..." etc. Now, I guarantee that 99% of mums I know with 2 or 3 children would say something like "I love them but they are bloody annoying. On a good day I delight in their new experiences, their chat and their smiles, on a bad day I just want to walk out for a pint of milk and never come back. I miss my head space, I miss clean clothes and an orderly house, I miss being able to go to the cinema or for dinner without it costing just as much again in a babysitter, I miss eating at what time I want and just flopping down at the end of the day instead of having to pick up clothes, put out washing, prep stuff for the next day and always think ahead. I love them dearly, my heart cannot contain this strong love I feel for them , it overwhelms me and yet sometimes I feel it is sinking me."
In these mags we are portrayed this image of life as orderly, clean, neat, explainable, when it is the opposite of all that. Life is messy, confusing, grubby and ever changing. You grasp hold of a feeling, an idea, an answer... it slips away, to be replaced by something else.
And always change, change, change. Nothing stay the same... not your children, your relationship, your home, job, the people around you. It is a constant swirl or dance of things coming and going and how could that really be orderly?
Sometimes, with hindsight, our brain manage to put a kind of meaning (and order) to events. We are trained to see patterns, so we see them, our life has narrative in retrospect. But really, in the moment it is all a swirl, a whirl, we fall form one thing to the next. Who doesn't?
And I find that it's when we resist this, or the times we 'get it all under control' (as if WE were in control of the vast unknown) that we fall hardest.
Navigating life is navigating change, flowing with what comes at you, not stubbornly steering within 'acceptable limits' of appearance, cleanliness, career.
Real Living is living with this change and uncertainty and the myriad of loose ends we exist with. Wouldn't it be refreshing to read about that for a change?
