The Rhythm of Life

Years and years ago, when I was a kid, there was a gas ad on the television in which little people dressed as flames danced around to the tune of The Rhythm of Life. I would hear it even from another room and race in to dance around to that tune. I was quite the performer, very dramatic. And quite “angsty”, for want of a better adjective.

And the rhythm of life is a powerful beat,
Puts a tingle in your fingers and a tingle in your feet,
Rhythm in your bedroom, rhythm in the street,
Yes, the rhythm of life is a powerful beat.

Recently, with all that is going on in the world, I stopped writing. Just stopped. And it is the first sign of me swirling the drainpipe of depression when I stop writing. I mean, how can I tell stories about life’s observation when I am not doing anything? How can I write my funny little tales when there is nothing very funny going on?

So around the sink hole I floated, with my unhelpful fear pushing down the rational side of my brain. And it was at the breaking point that I made a bit of a breakthrough which I will try to attempt to put on paper.

I was missing the rhythm of life.

The first week of the lockdown was great! Mr Woog and I carried on like we were at schoolies! 3pm? Have a gin and tonic WHOOHOO. Didn’t do anything today and I cannot be bothered to shower, not going to see anyone anyway. Kids, make your own dinner, I think there is something in the freezer. I am just going to have toast.

Days blended into days with no assigned names while Easter went by and I am still reminding myself that it has been and gone.

The forth anniversary of the death of John hit me like a wrecking ball.

I was completely mourning my rhythm of life which was get up early, make a coffee while skimming the paper and listening to the news on the radio. Getting the kids up (which if you have teenagers, you will understand that this is no easy feat!). Getting everyone off to where they needed to be before settling in to do some work. Do some huffy puffy and use my creative brain.

All work that had been booked in has been cancelled.

The kids are sleeping into 11am because there is no schedule anymore.

I got up last night for my midnight piss and found them in the kitchen eating takeaway pizza.

Meanwhile, life is continuing to go on nevertheless. One of my readers had a successful transplant operation, while another one of my readers is arranging her husbands funeral as I type. I am getting a dozen emails a day from readers, checking in on me which has been lovely.

The Rhythm of Life looks different now and I need to adjust accordingly. My Aunty Pat who is 93 lives by the mantra “Get up, get dressed and get out.” But we cannot get out. Not just yet.

You can emotionally try to fight it, or you can change your mindset.

I hope this ramblings make some sort of sense to you.

How has your rhythm changed?