A Delicate Balance

Although I’m frequently aware of the close proximity of contentment to complacency, it’s only on rare occasions that the narrow margin between contentment and frustration comes to my attention. Alongside the health improvements of the past twelve months, I have developed an acceptance of those limitations, compared to my state of being five years ago, which drastically curtail so many of those activities which were once part of my daily round.

For at least 75% of my time I dwell in contented acceptance but, a sudden (albeit short-lived) reinstatement of some of the more debilitating aches, pains, and mental numbness, dissolves this sense of modest well-being, replacing it with a general sense of alienation from all that is ‘normal’.

Last night, as I struggled to make it up the staircase, I was reminded of how things were in my darker days but, alongside a feeling gratitude for recent improvements, a sense of frustration creeps in. Rather than being grateful for the relative state of comfort that I live in, a strong current of anger overwhelms me as I consider all the violence and injustice that surrounds us on planet earth. Perhaps this is a righteous anger but, if all I can do about it is sign a few petitions, make a small donation to some of the charities I support, rather than manning the barricades, its effect can be rather negative like resentment.

In one sense though, it is a relief to recognize that the anger is not that of self-pity; the discomforts I face are so paltry, compared to the daily struggle for existence that confronts such a large proportion of humankind.

I am content but not complacent, frustrated but not in despair.