Responsibility, Adulting, and Enjoying Life Anyway: A Midwinter Meditation

Go Prefigure #12

Disclaimer: I'm experimenting with generative AI so this post was written with the help of Google Bard.

The wind howls like a banshee outside, whipping rain against the windows like a thousand tiny fists. Inside, I'm wrestling with the leaky dishwasher, a symphony of gurgling and dripping that's become the soundtrack to my January blues. Black mould creeps across the corner like a silent, insidious villain, adding to the general air of domestic despair.

It's easy, in the face of a world seemingly on fire, to feel overwhelmed by the weight of responsibility. The brutal war in Gaza, the ever-shifting sand dunes of British politics, even the looming deadline for my self-assessment tax return – it all feels like too much, piled on top of leaky appliances and mouldy corners.

But then, I hear a purr. Pumpkin, my neighbour's portly ginger cat, has sauntered in, tail held high, demanding a chin scratch. His unabashedly smug self-absorption is a welcome reminder that the world doesn't revolve around my leaky dishwasher (though, wouldn't it be nice if it did?).

Adulting, they say, is the realisation that nobody's coming to save you. You're the one who has to fix the dishwasher, battle the mould, and navigate the labyrinthine world of tax forms. It's a sobering thought, but also a liberating one. We have a choice, you see: to crumble under the weight of it all, or to rise to the challenge, not just for ourselves, but for those around us.

Remember that quote, "I thought 'somebody should do something,' then I realised 'I am somebody"? It's cheesy, sure, but it carries a truth as potent as bleach against black mould. We can't control the war in Gaza, or the political circus in Westminster, but we can control our own actions, our own spheres of influence.

So, I joined the local community gardening group. Spent two days over Christmas volunteering at the homeless shelter Crisis. It wasn't earth-shattering, but it was something. It was choosing to be better than strictly necessary, to step outside my own leaky dishwasher and into the world, even if it was just for a few hours.

Proud faces at Crisis shelter, Bermondsey (me second from left) who’d just succeeded at giant 3D Tetris filling a van with equipment from this year’s run

Tree mulching helps the plants absorb rainwater which can run off impacted soil

And guess what? Seeing a smile blossom on the face of a woman at the shelter, feeling the dirt under my fingernails as I mulched some budding trees – it did something. It chipped away at the bleakness, reminded me that even the smallest act of kindness can ripple outwards, like a pebble in a pond.

Here's what I've learned, huddled in my war against mould and taxes: