Accidental Joy

When spontaneity and friendship knock you out of your misery

Today was a good day.

Maybe even a good week—if I’m being brave about it.

Two days ago, I opened my eyes, and the tears arrived before the thoughts did. I cried for two hours. I just lay there, leaking. Eventually, I laced up my sneakers, shoved Yungblud and Bring Me The Horizon into my ears like armour, and ran through the ache—still crying, naturally—1.1km to the coffee shop where my best friend handed me a warm drink without flinching.

We walked to the beach. And when we parted ways, I wandered home along the shoreline, wading knee-deep into the waves, like the tide was trying to pull me back under. I nearly let it. I sobbed into the wind, and no one looked twice. Bless the ocean for being louder than me.

When I got home, something ancient moved in me. I stood in front of my dance pole—abandoned for months—and climbed. My muscles, short and underworked, remembered me. I stayed up there for three hours. I nailed two new manoeuvres. I bruised beautifully.
My whole body’s been aching ever since, in the specific language of the living.

Yesterday, I disappeared into my bedroom.

Today, I almost did the same.

But I remembered a tattoo appointment and dragged myself into the shower, texted my bestie for a ride. Arrived at the locked-up studio to a surprise: my appointment is tomorrow. Of course.

So instead, we chased a whim—margaritas at a sleepy little beachside Mexican place, salt on our lips and laughter sharp enough to slice through the mental and emotional fog.
On the way home, a spark hit us like a match dropped in dry brush. We grabbed our hoodies, I brewed a mocha, made a chai for her, threw the djembe, tongue drum, and firewood into the car, and headed for Solar beach like it had been waiting for us.

The sun bled into the horizon. We built a fire with cold, yet skilled hands. The air was holy. The moment, feral and soft. This is the kind of night that tattoos itself into your heart and broken mind forever.

It’s so easy to forget what’s sacred. The casual magic of an 18-year friendship. The way healing shows up, dressed like spontaneity. The radical softness of letting yourself enjoy something without shame.

I spend too much time rehearsing pain. Too much time drowning in my narrative. But tonight, joy showed up uninvited, barefoot and grinning. And I didn’t shut the door.

The hard things still loom. There are decisions ahead that could crack my sternum wide open. And yeah, I’ll probably find myself tangled in the dark again, sooner than I’d like.

But I’ll be damned if I don’t take days like today as a win. A real win. No guilt, no footnotes, no second-guessing.

Some days I need reminding that I don’t owe the darkness every part of me.

And today?

Today I loved it.

Without guilt. Without strategy. Just arms wide open, face turned toward the fire, saying yes!

I love you my friendickle!

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⛦・⚸ ・⛅︎

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