# 37 Got a ticket for the long way round
Let's be honest, a lot of my writing has been pretty f@#**ing depressing lately. Even I was getting worried about it. Optimism, and the burden of it can be hard to carry, even with my donkey legs (I take my squats at the gym seriously.) That wave of melancholy has passed somewhat, this last episode caught me off guard, but I'm well on the way to recovery.
Waves of sadness, self-pity and frustration, it never really leaves me. Most of the time, with the energy I have, it's manageable. When it happens I have two options: Fight it with all my might, or accept it, allow the current to take me until I reach the bottom and slowly make my way back. The swim upwards gives me plenty of time for reflection, and I bounce back stronger. It's usually on the way down that I make stupid decisions based on fear, being impatient and doubting myself. Each episode passes quicker and adds to my library of lessons that can only be learned when life pisses you off.
Growing up, and even in my twenties, I could count my close friends on one hand. I'm grateful I still have friends from high school that I know have my back. These days I still don't have many friends, but I like it that way. We share a group chat on Facebook that when any one of us have issues, becomes a marathon of advice, love and hard truths. Great friends are hard to come by, honest ones, those are keepers.
Living with my parents again, I try my best to have breakfast with my Mum (my Dad works out of town during the week). As we sit eating a bowl of porridge, or a fried egg, we would talk about the studio, work, or just life in general. This morning she was recounting a Facebook post she read that she was particularly excited about. Even though we have lived in New Zealand for over 25 years, sometimes her English still gets mixed up, and today was one of those times.
The post she talked about is about two mothers and their daughters, sitting nearby in a park. One family was black, the other white. One of the girls asked why her skin colour was different to the other girl's sitting across the playground. "When God created humans, he used clay and it was black, that's why she has dark skin. Then God saw white dust on those first hands and smiled, and that's why you are white." (Ok, I haven't been able to find this post, so I have to take her word for it. Either way, I like how my Mum closed by, "No matter what the colour of our skin, we are all made from the same clay. You are beautiful...and black."
“No matter what the colour of our skin, we are all made from the same clay. You are beautiful... (sic) and black.”
For those who may not know, I have dark brown skin, taking after my Dad. My Mum is fair skinned, as we have a strong Spanish / Chinese ancestry. My sister takes after her, and my brother I refer to as a caramel-mocha! Growing up, my older sister would tell me that the reason I had darker skin was because I was born at night. Sisterly love!
There are days I just want to know where I'm supposed to be, to take the express route instead of the scenic tour. For now I have a ticket for the long way round, and that's ok with me. In the words of Walk The Moon, "It's not a matter of if, it's just a matter of when..." Here's to more adventures, laughs and self-love.
Ronna Funtelar Thacker is a writer, foodie and dance studio owner.
A self-confessed eternal optimist and lover of crispy M&Ms, she shares her adventures and life learnings to connect, inspire and nurture self-love.