When it’s sunny, life is amazing

When it’s cold-dark-and-wet, it sucks

When it’s sunny all the time, life is boring

When there’s a thunderstorm, life is exciting again.


It’s sunny. Most of the days start extremely cold (for me) and gets pleasant (or less cold) throughout the day. It’s good. Life is back to being great.

Or not. If your life is great, but life of others is not, it sucks. What’s the point in being happy on your own?


I’ve been having some awful nightmares lately. I’m easily influenced about news in general and news in the last weeks haven’t been great.

A lovely person, hard working, mother of one, pregnant of another, was recently diagnosed with cancer, late stages, no chances of cure. How do you live with this news? People with high doses of hope and optimisms would say that this is the time to live life until there’s no more, enjoy your family, tick all the bucket list items. I tend to (partially) agree. I also tend to feel miserable and cry. It can happen to anyone, but it is hard to accept it. One day you have it, the other day is too late.

It was easier for me to accept my dad’s cancer and death because he lived his life, had his kids and grandkids. Of course I would rather have him living until his great grandkids were around, but I feel sad, but not angry-shocked-confused.

When you are in your late 30’s, early 40’s, with young kids and a new life on its way… it is just wrong. When you are healthy, exercise, only eat organic food, it’s unacceptable.


Then there are the bad news involving people that have their whole life ahead. Kids with cancer. Unfair. Wrong. Children shouldn’t suffer. That’s the rule. They suffer from colics, they are scared of the boogie man, they don’t like the dark. And they learn to overcome these fears. But that’s all.

And then there are the people that suffer so hard that they just decide not to suffer anymore. I find it shocking to hear cases of young parents taking their lives – both parents, leaving a 3 year old behind – or school girls that don’t think life is worth living. How bad can life be for you to give it up? Depression is a beast. Modern life is killing us. You would think that in this day and age, medicine is more advanced and it’s easier to help people with severe depression (or even diagnose it). You would think that in this global world, it is easier to leave problems behind and seek happiness elsewhere. Talk to people. Make friends.


Or does the fact that information is so easily accessible these days making problems more apparent and therefore giving us the false impression that there are way more cases of depression and cancer now than 30 years ago? Or is the medicine so advanced that what we thought was period pain 30 years ago, we now know is the early symptoms of cancer?

I admit I don’t look for answers. I know that increasing our life expectation without improving our way of life is not a right formula for a better overall life, but I know nothing more than this. I admit that I try not to think too much about it; I’m not the type of person who wakes up after a bad day and say “now, let’s start a new – better – life” and start exercising, eating better, meditating. I wish I was this person, but I don’t wish hard enough to justify being this person. So I choose to dig my head in a whole and pretend that nothing is happening. Until it happens a bit too close to me and I panic; until I get scared and sad and feel like something needs to be done.


I don’t know how to finish this post. It was just to get it out of my chest, in the hopes it would make me feel better, but it hasn’t worked. Let’s see if tomorrow’s sunshine will lift up the spirits.


2 responses »

  1. Antes da Zoe nasceu e eu lia qualquer uma das notícias que você citou, eu sentia compaixão. Eu pensava: “Nossa, deve ser muito difícil. Que essa família/ pessoa tenha forças”. E seguia com a minha vida.

    Hoje eu mudo de canal ou fecho a página. Eu tenho agido em total estado de ignorância com relação as injustiças e maldades do mundo, porque desde que a Zoe nasceu eu não sei mais lidar com elas.
    Eu não sinto mais compaixão. Eu sinto dor… me dá um incômodo na alma, um amargo no estômago, uma aflição…
    Eu tenho feito como você, enfiado a cabeça num buraco enquanto torço (e rezo do meu jeito) pra essas coisas não chegarem muito perto.

    Esses monstros assombram a mim também. Você não está sozinha…

    • O pior, Moniquinha, é que nesse caso específico eu nem posso enfiar a cabeça no buraco. A pessoa em questão é minha vizinha, um amor de pessoa, a filha adora a Laura e vice versa. Ainda nem a vi depois da quimio; tenho um medo danado de cair no choro e não ter nada pra falar. 😦

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