4. February 2017 by swissfitchick
I love my job with a passion, I really do. Yet, working with teenagers isn’t all hunky-dory – not because they behave like little revealed devils at times, no – it becomes even more tricky when they want to know every fucking detail about my past. I don’t know how they do it but they seem to smell the trouble I put myself in (and still do so sporadically) and I try not to feel all sorts of mortified when they pepper me with their questions about my drunken and stoned past.
It clearly isn’t a secret that I lost my mind earlier this life – serendipitously, I still turned out ok; depending which perspective you are looking at me of course. Anyway, I guess – or let’s say I hope – that we all have these stories about these particular nights when we actually DID lose our minds, thanks to colorful cocktails and other substances. In fact, I see that these walks down the memory lines are the most entertaining – despite some less than flattering facts and pictures about myself.
Nonetheless, while I rewind my brain cells to the summers where we lost any kind of feeling for time and space, revealing our invincible, careless and even more vocal self, where we climbed the club podests to dance for bleeding feet or hanging out high at beaches until the clouds turned pink again, I can’t help but wonder: Will a troublemaker always be a troublemaker? In a world, where people strive for settlement and professionalism, where we receive disapproving glances when talking about nights out until the morning, where the world forgets how to dance; hell, where the world actually doesn’t remember how to FORGET while dancing but worries about the money coming in……is growing up and blurring the wild young years an evil trap? Can childishness in fact be a virtue? Or, are knocking all plans on the head and sink in the temptation for a spontaneous adventure and daily hysterical giggles a reason for shaking heads? And if so, why?
To me, growing up has nothing to do with forgetting that teenager or that child in our hearts. To me, being childish doesn’t equal immaturity. I’m not talking the bitch-storm-menace I genuinely used to be or the I’m-cool-as-fuck-and-only-care-about-party punk hippie chick I used to be, because well, that was pretty exhausting and I mean that for all the parties – pun intended (a blurred memory of fighting and screaming with the disco doorman who kindly tried to carry me out of the ladies room where I locked myself in to take a gin&tonic-5minutes-that-turned-into-45minutes-nap (on the floor) springs to mind).
I don’t feel the urge to explain myself why I like to party a lot at my age and why I get the giggles multiple times a day at my age and why I take adventurous risks which might put me into trouble at my age – it makes me feel happy and that’s it. People like to be around me because of that – even better, because I love me some good company. Things I have kept up since I learned how to crack bad jokes, since I learned how fun it is to jump in at the deep end and since I learned how good dancing feels. Even better at the age of 38. While I learned to limit the amount of trouble I put myself into, I must admit that it will always be a part (y) of my life – trouble.
However – despite the responsibilities and duties I chose to take care of and which I take extremely serious, because no one competes with my love for my teenagers and I know exactly what I’m doing there – I am a high advocate of letting go. At least for a night of dancing. Letting go of dark frustrations from the past, fears of tomorrow, doubts about the thoughts of others and being afraid of embarrassing ourselves. On the other hand – be scared of losing your light heartedness, because the light life is the happy life. Be scared of forgetting how to burst in laughter, because laughing is free medicine and makes you look and feel beautiful. Be scared of being stucked up in a pile of meetings and a schedule that makes your mind churning, because that is where the bitterness hides. Be scared of being trapped in a cliché that makes rules for a certain age. Age doesn’t matter. Your heart and your soul does – don’t put them in a cage created by society and your own worries.
Shake off the dust and dance. Because life is better when you dance.