If I could chose one word to sum up the past week, it would be manic. And that is meant in all senses of the word. I have been here there and everywhere, signing up for things at a moments notice for some sort of Sarah-style adventure, and found myself reinvented with a dash of confidence I didn’t know I had. 

I went to gigs, the theatre, I went shopping and bought a rather fabulous new pink lipstick, then shopping again for things that went with it. I drank far too much wine and made merry with friends, I dropped anything and everything and did whatever took my fancy in the fleeting moment I thought of it. Sounds fun doesn’t it?

Y’see the trouble with this manic malarky is that it is damn hard to explain to others what it is that makes it so bad, when really, other than spending a little (okay, a lot) too much money I actually quite enjoyed it.

The hard part perhaps is not convincing others, but maybe even convincing myself that something I know deep down is wrong, is something that should be managed and maintained. But when you’ve been stuck in the depths of a depressive streak, that flicker of excitement, is quite a welcome change.

Its like that drunken haze you get after one too many vino’s, that hidden confidence where you could conquer the world (or karaoke) and you want to give it a damn good try because (as everyone always says) “life is just too short”. You buy that dress you always wanted. You drink a little too much a little too often. You try out the bright lipstick you’ve never dared to wear. You live life in the fast lane and teeter dangerously on the edge not knowing if at any point you’ll fall. And that feeling, that rush, the sense of spontenaity, that love of life, will all be over in an instant and you come crashing back down to nothingness.

Of course, you fall eventually. Everyone does. Its that moment you wake up after a dream, and the more you try and focus on the details the more they fade away into the corners of your mind. You’re pretty sure what happened, or where you’ve been, or what you said or done, but if you focus too hard it drifts away and you’re left feeling a little lost.

And that is how I am feeling today.

Lost.

The fog has lifted and I look around to find myself exhausted and alone and absolutely no idea how I got there. Reality has set in, and suddenly everything seems so real. And I must say, its a little daunting. You’re left with an emotional hangover and wondering if it was all worth it at all. Of course, everyone I know seems to think so. Its nice to see me so happy apparently, I should embrace it, as anything that makes you smile is a good thing, right?

I am not sure I could agree entirely with the sentiment. Being happy is rather great. Amazing in fact. But I strive more for ‘content’. Its one of those words that people tend to shun and shy away from, almost inducing a feeling of uninspired complacency. But it is a word that I like very much.

Content is the middle ground. The medium. The plateau that I so desperately try to achieve every minute of every day. Content is the point that life becomes less the roller-coaster with all its twists and turns, and more the Ferris Wheel, steady and safe, taking in the view and enjoying it in a much healthier manner.

So for now, I will be content.

Content, and sporting a rather fabulous bright pink lipstick.