Once upon a time, there lived a walrus.
A walrus who liked to wallow.
A wallowing walrus, if you will.
The walrus was generally quite happy and content. It had a good life, full of people who loved her, and a shiny new MacBook.
But every now and then, the walrus forgot to look at all the blessings, and instead focused on all the things that were wrong.
It was then that the walrus would wallow.
The reasons for wallowing varied, but generally centered around similar themes.
A messy, unclean house.
A kitchen floor that was in need of great repair.
Bright blue paint on the hallway floor; the work of an artistic toddler.
An abundance of Easter chocolate causing consecutive fat days.
A boat loving husband whose new job meant that he worked 6-8 days straight, and the walrus never got a break.
Well she did sort of.
In her pit.
Her wallowing pit of self pity and drama-rama.
One day the wallowing walrus took her self to the shop for some shoe-shopping themed wallowing.
Of course, the Walrus could find no shoes she liked in her price range, and not one sales assistant seemed intent on helping her with her mission. No doubt they saw her walrus frown, and her giant cloud of wallow and decided to steer well clear of this particular mammal.
Whilst wandering through her cloud-of-despair-shoe-shopping-fatigue, the walrus became aware of something.
Something quiet and almost fading in to the background.
It was music.
Sweet, sweet, wallowing music.
Power chords and piano and soulful lyrics that could only aid ones wallowing tendencies.
In an instant the walrus was caught up. She saw herself, as if from the audience of a movie theatre. She, her walrus self, wallowing through her life, sad, and dejected, a lonely walrus with a melancholy soundtrack to her life.
And just like that she thought, “what a ridiculous walrus.”
She exited the movie theatre of her pathetic dramatism, and marched herself out of the shoe shops and into her life.
Yes, sometimes things were tough; sometimes hormones and lack of sleep and sick baby walrus’ meant that wallowing seemed the only valid lifestyle choice.
But a life lived wallowed, was not really a life at all.
The excess of toys scattered all around her house was proof of a life so blessed.
The holes in the floor, the wonderful dilemma of a home with floors.
The bright blue paint showed the creativity of a toddler; a boy who was adored so very much.
The fat days proof of strawberry centred, cadbury eggs.
The long, breakless hours the joy of a job that provided for six people; that let the walrus be a stay at home walrus, and the boat mad husband, a wonderful soul who would do anything for his family.
So the walrus decided that yes, sometimes wallowing was ok for a little bit. Sometimes maybe even a little healthy. But at some point, wallowing has to stop, and counting of blessings needs to begin.
She could live with being an occasional wallowing walrus; but she would not be a ridiculous one.
Have you ever been a ridiculous sea mammal?