shit happens, then you get back on the horse.

photo-35

The last time you heard from me I was riding along gently enjoying my life – breathing in the fresh air, smiling at strangers, tipping rude waitresses, being thankful for traffic lights because they gave me time to think. So yeah, basically being a real pain-in-the-ass, positive thinking do-er. And I was loving it.

After a delicious and empowering wave of progress in my personal life [a period where I confidently grasped my purpose on this planet and was thankful for every gift the creators had bestowed upon me] a new year was rolling in, and so too was my horse.

Saddled up and trotting like a pro for the first time in my foggy existence, I was happy for that change of date. I was sitting up tall and ready to gallop gracefully into a new year. An entire calendar year would begin and end with my hands firmly on the reigns, whipping and whooping like a cowgirl.

How dare you be so …

CRACK

CRACK

CRACK

There it was. It got me. Lightning struck.

Not once, not twice, but three times. Fair in the ass of the mule I was clumsily clinging to.

That horse I rode in on was suddenly nowhere to be seen.

Yep, life handed me some real doozies in the early part of this year. Some good, old-fashioned bad luck wiped the cheesy grin from my awkward face. And left me standing in a lonely room with nothing but a sore butt and an apple core.

My natural reaction, or perhaps my learned reaction from my many months of will-building, was “…great, this is just a good opportunity for me to re-launch and try new things.”  Another more realistic part of me retaliated with “I will just have more material to write about”.

Days, weeks, months have past. Neither of those things happened. Because the truth is people, sometimes it gets you. Sometimes it really gets you, tips you off your perch, rolls you in the dirt, yanks the reigns clean from your hands and replaces them with a packet chocolate confectionary and a new anti-social iPhone app. And there it leaves you.

Life.

I am so hesitant to use the “d” word, but sometimes there is no other way to describe it. ‘Down-in-the-Dumps’ I guess could be a fitting “d” substitute. Regardless of how I describe it, you know what it is.

photo-38

So my zing was gone.

What does one do with a zingless cowgirl?

I teetered through January and February getting on with things, trying to regain the momentum – or at least muster up some of the control that had been scattered at the entrance of the deep dark forrest that was 2013. I kept a positive slant on things. Tried to make good of not so tasty situations. I have a backbone and I have a decent mind, I told myself. I am able to make it to work, I am able to pay my bills, I have a phone and on the end of that phone I have some friendly voices if I need.

But when you’re in the dumps you don’t even want to hear the friendly voices. You just want to get on with your day, put in your designated ‘reality’ time and get back to the packet of marshmallows or the computer game or the outdated TV series whose characters have become your daily substitute for socialisation. Before you know it you have clocked out – you have hung up your saddle and you are sitting cosy on a mountain of your own wallow cleverly disguised as a life.

So how does one recover from this? I am no expert. I do not claim to know the exit from every dark hole. What I have discovered however – that is a certainty – is there is no thunderclap or lightning strike that brings your good luck rolling back into town. Unlike it’s ugly stepsister bad luck, good luck needs an invitation. And good luck is polite and subtle. Good luck doesn’t desire fanfare or a grand opening sale, good luck is grateful for any entry point into your life. Goodluck just wants to feel welcome.

So you gotta put down the iPad, clean up the chocolate wrappers, and at least let a little light in so good luck can find its way.

All you gotta do, is do something. Pay a fine, ring family member, clean out a drawer. Delete an unfriendly txt message, throw away the pair of jeans that don’t fit, hang a pretty picture on the wall.

A great friend of mine once said to me when I was feeling lost, “…just wallow in it a while, or make sausage rolls”. Best advice I was ever given. Because when you are making sausage rolls you are doing something, and when you are doing something you are back in the game.

photo-43

I made my sausage rolls earlier this week, in the form of soaking my favourite stained white tshirt in bleach. A simple task, but one so easily put off when you are hiding from bad luck.

And here I am, writing a blog post, for the first time in 5 months. It may not be my best work and I may not have a resolution to everything or anything…but Im back on the horse, or at least in the stable.

My advice to you zing-less cowgirls and cowboys – find your horse, give it a ridiculous name and run it in an amateur race. You may even take a place ribbon,

and if not,

in life you are a winner already if you can score a ‘Certificate of Participation’.

Advertisements