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the above photo popped up on my Facebook feed this week. my reaction to it was in a descending cascade – I laughed, winced, and got cross about it.

cross because, you know, my life is shittier than anyone else appreciates, and who the hell are you to call me a miserable cow, and isn’t that the kind of sneery misogynist label applied to truly unhappy women by unpleasant, jeering men?

sigh. my brain is a very busy place.

but it was the wincing that tells me more than I like to hear. I was wincing in acknowledgment that when I have persistent negative thoughts and rumination they are often entirely of my own making, construction, and thus volition.

and just look, in that sentence above, at that one weasel word, ‘often’, which I typed and deleted and re-typed as my get out clause. sigh again.

I am not saying for a moment that anyone’s unhappiness is not valid or real. over-drinking is too often a reaction or a symptom of incredibly adverse circumstances or trauma. the pain of those things should be honoured and given space to heal.

but the humour in this image is a helpful reminder for me that an element of our own suffering can be self-imposed, can be a choice we choose not to make.

what will you choose today?

Prim xx

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