I don’t want to be a fluff

We all know them: fluffs. People addicted to support, to the sweet side of life.

I used to be quite the fluff myself, I think. Everyone had to be nice, kind sweet, generous and,friendly to me. And if they weren’t, I’d come undone. Sometimes a little, sometimes a bit more than that.

Over the years, I discovered that the world isn’t like that at all. So I fought it for a while, because the world had to become like that.

Then I discovered something else: someone who is nice to me might not be so nice to someone else, which suddenly made my quest for a positive world rather complicated.

Come to think of it, I’m not always nice, sweet, generous and friendly to myself either. You should hear what goes on in my head. Or to my family and friends, for that matter. Not even to my dog Easy. Sometimes I put the last piece of cheese in my own mouth simply because it’s so good, even while she’s looking at me with her sweetest little face, eyebrows scrunched together in that ridiculously cute way.

Two years ago, I went on holiday with the biggest fluff I’ve ever met. At the campsite, she sat crying in her cabin because one man wasn’t nice and the toilet wasn’t what she had expected. Then she got angry with me: “Can’t you see I’m not doing well? Why don’t you come over to me?” It doesn’t happen very often, but that one left me speechless. I had never encountered fluff quite that fluffy.

Eventually, we had an argument and I said something so incredibly mean that she physically recoiled. It just came out of my mouth and I’m not proud of it, but I’m not ashamed of it either.

The next day, the drive home was very quiet. When she went to the bathroom at a petrol station, I briefly thought: “Should I just drive off?” And that thought I am ashamed of. She never forgave me for what I’d said and I also had to reimburse her for the jar of jam we’d bought from our shared holiday money. Because she didn’t like the jam.

Back when I was still a fluff myself, I attracted a lot of anti-fluffs. People who weren’t particularly nice to me. At the time, I thought that was wrong, but I don’t anymore.

Because these days, I firmly believe that in every area of your life where you’re a fluff, someone will eventually come along to de-fluff you.

Or, without the metaphor: any part of your life where you don’t take charge, someone else will take charge for you.

That applies physically, mentally, socially, within your family (partners included), financially, at work and spiritually (and my definition of spirituality isn’t dancing naked around a fire, but: whatever inspires you most in your life to live).

What I’ve learned most over the past few years is to appreciate my anti-fluffs! They taught me how to de-fluff and take charge. 👑

And yes, sometimes I’m still a fluff for a little while. There’s something delicious about that blanket of self-pity and a cup of chamomile tea. Just not for as long as I used to. A little fluffing every now and then is perfectly fine.

And the tea? I pour it myself.