Feel Good Inc.

I had trouble sleeping last night, despite sleep walking home from drinks with my favourite people in Tel Aviv. Just as my eyes closed the ‘feel good’ intro began thumping in my ears… dum da dum da dum feel good! My eyes wide open, I stared upwards at my ceiling and just as thoughts began to swarm into my mind I closed my eyes in the hope of closing out the thoughts and then…

Dum da dum da dum… Feel Good!

Lord! Let me sleep! I stare back up at the ceiling and try not to let the thoughts come into my mind, but after a number of failed attempts and a rendition of Feel Good to try and get it out of my system, I give in and allow myself to absorb myself in thought.

I think about how the month as gone by so quickly, and my time in England was now a month ago. I think about events leading up to my going to England and how miserable I was. I think about a year before. I think about how happy I was just being me. I think about the people around me, those who I love who make me feel good about myself, those who I love who make me feel bad about myself and those who I love to hate who can make me feel good or bad on any given day. I think what my life would be like without all those people in my life and dismiss the thought immediately.

I then move on to thinking about the weekend. I think about spending Friday cooking new Israeli foods I have never tried before and being surprisingly impressed with the results. I think about the simple pleasure of feeding the hungry, watching their faces as they take their first bite and seeing the glazed look of satisfaction on their faces when they realise they can stuff in no more. I think about my mother and how she would make dinners ever day for us to sit together as a family and how she must have felt watching us all wolf down her delicious meal. I then think how she must have felt when we grimaced and said, “Urgh I hate brussel sprouts!” I think to myself ‘ where can I find some brussel sprouts in Israel?’

I think about my time in Israel and how much I have changed, and yet how I will never really change. I think about a week filled with the comment, “Everyone needs a little bit of Channah in their lives.” I think what a sweet thing it is to hear, and what and honour to hear more than once, and think how deep down I wish I really believed it. I think it is a good thing there is a lot of me to go around. I think maybe I have been spreading myself too thin. I think that giving yourself is a wonderful thing. I think I have nothing left to give. I think that there is always more to find.

I think about the writing I am doing and how I am neglecting my blog. I think about the topic I am writing about and how the first paragraph might actually offend someone I really care about. I think maybe I will cut it out and start again. I think about how many times I have just cut it out and started again.

I think about he who shall not be named and find myself torn. I think about what David said and wonder if being open and honest really does make a difference. I think about protecting myself and then realise that that must be what they mean when they say Cancers are shell people. I think about cutting him out of my life and never looking back. I think about walking away with a smile on my face. I hear his best friend’s voice in my head and so I stand still. I think for the moment there is nothing wrong with standing still. I think that one day everything will work out. I think about what made me feel good a year ago and I think about what makes me feel good now.

I close my eyes and the feel good melody comes back into my ears, but this time I drift off to sleep in time with the beat and I know that regardless I do feel good.

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About channahboo

I was once a Yorkshire lass, I guess I still am, but after moving to London and then on to Tel Aviv, New York and then back to Tel Aviv again, I wonder how much of the Yorkshire lass is left. The adventure continues and although many see my life as an extended episode of Seinfeld (you are free to laugh), I can also empathise with the Buddhist thought of life as our punishment. I guess the important part is the love that you carry with you through life’s journey and my back often feels the joyous strain of the weight of the love I carry.
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