So, I've seen quite a few of these around. A lot of them will have more physical feelings, such as taking off your shoes after a long day on your feet. Or taking off your bra, or removing the 'cup' for male sports players. A good nights sleep is almost always on the list.
But mine is going to be about less physical feelings. It's going to be a little more personal. You might not be able to relate to some of these and that's fine. I'm writing this more for myself than anything, being able to share it is just a nice touch.
So, in no particular order, here we go.
Jagger is my cat. I was there for his birth, saved him from being squashed while his sisters were born, and held him within the first hour of his being outside of his mothers womb. We had to let Jagger go early, as his mother started to attack him when he was about six weeks old. He went to my grandparents. His mother and sisters eventually had to go to a no kill shelter, as we could not afford to keep them and could find no home for them. I moved in with my grandparents a few months later, and Jagger still remembered me.
A little while ago Jagger went missing. We took in a friends cockatoo for a week and their dog, so we assumed he would be back when the animals were gone. He wasn't. It was three weeks before he returned, and when he did I was sitting at the kitchen table 'studying'. I heard a meow, turned around and through a gap in the sliding door saw this black and white face looking at me. When I let Jagger in he rubbed against my leg and began purring. He flinched when I moved too quickly, but stayed close. He was thinner, but still just as big and boofy as he was when he left. When I took him into the lounge to show my grandparents that he was back, he refused to go near them and stuck with me. He only left my side when Poppy (my grandpa) grabbed the canned food and tapped the spoon against it.
Cats aren't typically great at showing you love, or trust (in my experience). But having my cat stick by my side after three weeks of being a stray, it was the greatest show of love and trust that any animal has given me. And it felt great.
(This is almost what he looks like. He's bigger and fluffier with a much longer tail. And his eyes a yellow bronze.)
2. Self Praise.
This one sounds a little strange I know, but I don't get it very often, so when I do, it's like I've gone to heaven and back. I know it's sort of like, 'well if it's so great then do it more often'. It's not that easy though. I am a very positive person when it comes to other people, but to myself I am very self deprecating. I don't consider a lot of what I do good enough, and when something is I'm still telling myself 'You could do better. Why didn't you do better?' so when those moments come, that I am absolutely in awe of myself, it's like. It's like winning the nobel prize or something.
3. Good Job.
This is something I rarely, if ever, heard growing up. A good job, or well done was given in the form of a sticker from the teacher. But teachers are paid to make their students accomplish things, so my achievements weren't mine but theirs. I never felt like that sticker was addressed to me. At home I never heard it. Not once. Certainly not when I lived with my dad and his partner full time.
My stepmother is an unpleasable woman. You cannot suck up to her, you cannot impress her, you cannot do anything right in her eyes, and she made sure it was the same with my father. He wouldn't approve of anything I did, unless my stepmother did. Which was never. All I heard growing up was, 'you're wrong'. I was never right. I never did good. I never made any kind of positive impact. I barely even got a thankyou for doing the dishes without being told. In fact I don't think I've ever heard 'thankyou' leave her lips. Unless she was telling me or my siblings to say it.
Due to having never been given praise, receiving it now is like magic. My grandparents will thank me for doing the dishes or bringing in the washing. They will compliment my artwork. They will tell me well done for getting a good mark or even just for completing something. And I soak it up like a sponge. Every compliment I have to fight to accept. I know I deserve it. But because I have been put down a lot of my life, it's hard to believe that I really am good enough. And when I finally do accept it, it's just great.
I wrote above how I could never please my stepmother. Well, that kind of connects here. Due to my growing up being unable to please, I have become the kind of person who strives to please. I want, no, need approval. I need your approval. Did I do good? Am I doing the right thing? I'm not bothering you am I?
Even with this little trait of mine, I'm still exceptionally lazy, and unwilling to put much effort into anything.
But when I do something that does warrant a 'thankyou' I feel top of the world.
5. My Siblings.
Hey look, I think that's a little bit of corn(y). Yup. My siblings have made it onto this list. Maybe not my older siblings, but definitely my little brother and sister.
Why not my older siblings? Well I've met my older sister twice, so I can't really comment on her at all, and my older brother and I butt heads on one very important issue. That being our stepmother and birth mother. I'm not getting into that though.
So why my little brother and sister? Because they are the only two people in the world who I feel actually love me as much as they say, and will forever and unconditionally. I love them. They are the only people in this world that I love, who I know I love. I would die for those two. Everyone else can throw themselves off a cliff for all I care. But not my baby brother and sister. Neither of which are really babies anymore.
I might not be fully related to them. We might share only our dad, but I love those two to death. Possibly more than I ever would my own children (If I have them). When I moved out of dads place, my stepmother told me, in an effort to make me stay, that my brother and sister would forget about me. They would forget about me and move on. They won't know my face, they won't know my name. I'll simply be a smudge in their memories. But guess what? They haven't forgotten me. Every time I visit my baby sister begs me to come home. She begs me to stay. But I can't. And I'm crying now writing this, because I want to stay for her. I want to be able to spend every day with her. I want to go back to taking her for granted and yelling at her to get out of my room but I can't. That house is toxic. And yes, I would die for those two. But I won't kill myself for them. Because going back to that house? That's exactly what will happen.
And then who will write these mytakes for you?
So there you go. Five of the greatest feelings in my life.
What are yours?