Passerà

My best friend Mandy is going off to Europe next week for a holiday. Funnily enough, I have been covering my tracks since her itinerary was drawn up, making sure no opportunities for drama can occur. Yes - recall the last time she went on holiday in February of last year, innocently thinking that all will be fine and well while she's away. Only to come home to a right mess of a best pal.

And that's how unhappiness is: it doesn't really come without a warning. It brews but you ignore. It screams but you shut it down. Until it comes right at you, and catches you in what you think is a state of unawares. But hell, you can't really blame it when you've been living in a state of denial.

It used to be easy to know how to tell when someone you're close to is unhappy. They'll cry, they'll sulk. Some may even skunk around a little bit. But as we grow older, we shut these reactions down. Perhaps it's cos we've sang the song "Pack all your troubles in your old knit bag and smile, smile, smile" too many times it manifests itself as actions.

Which is why one of the phrases I am always telling my best mates is this : No matter what you do, I'm the one you call when you need someone to come get you off this end of the bar. Cos at the end of the day, when you're swallowed up whole by that big bad emotion, there really isn't any place for the 3Rs - Recrimination, Reprimand and Rebuke.

And whether you're the cause of it, a party to it or an innocent collateral damage - there's really nothing much else to do except breathe. 

Passerà - it will pass.