Is it just me or have my posse and I been lurching from crisis to crisis lately?

Don’t get me wrong; I love being there to pick my buddies up and dust them off (figuratively, of course; we never talk about that time when it was literal), and I love knowing they’re there to perform the same service for me if I should require it.

I simply don’t believe in bad luck, although I do have a grim vision of the fates standing around a table yanking at skeins that they ought to leave well enough alone. Hmpf. And no offence to you, 2011, but I’m itching to send you packing on your way with an apple in your pocket for a snack (in case you get hungry; I’m not MEAN).

This got me to thinking about the friendship beast. I wondered if there were crises because someone was around to lend a hand, pass the tissues, and make crooning comforting noises AND a bloody good cup of tea, while they were about it, and I realised, that no, that’s not how it works.

There are crises because that’s how life works. Life is a series of thunderstorms illuminated by the occasional rainbow thrown in; the rainbows exist to remind us that they exist, and hey, isn’t that what most of us want anyway? Isn’t the pursuit of happiness one of our favourite things to do? And happiness is an ever-fleeting, ever-changing thing that never stops for one moment because it is out of breath; it never stops to let itself be caught. So illness, happenstance, misfortune, unhappiness, self doubt, anger, pain, betrayal, and all the other lovely things our lives are pockmarked with happen, because life happens.

Crises happen, and some years are just worse than others. Some months, some weeks, some days. I’ve had a lot of good happen to me this year but I’ve also been in the middle of crazy feverish bouts of writing, and let me tell you that you haven’t experienced self-doubt until you look down at the 50,000+ words you’ve given birth to and realised that no, you don’t like any of it…

So while the friendship beast is waiting down there with a safety net to catch you when you fall (not if), it’s a relief to let go and fall, just knowing it’s down there, waiting.

I’m just glad it knows where I live.