In the wake of the 10-year challenge, survival is good enough

In mid-November, a tweet went viral that was asking people to detail what their proudest accomplishments of the decade were. We were just weeks away from the start of a new decade and people were feeling introspective. Achievements were many: degrees had been studied for and gained, relationships and marriages had begun, babies had been born, books had been written and published. I was happy for my friends that their achievements meant so much to them, but I didn’t retweet the tweet myself. And it’s not like I don’t have achievements of my own: I started a writing diploma in 2010 and completed my MA in 2016 after gaining so much confidence in my writing over the preceding years. I’ve kept my marriage together and even made it flourish despite some rough times.

But what I have mostly done in the 2010s is survive. I lost my dad in 2008 and, by 2010, was still mired in grief over that. I broke up a toxic friendship in 2011, which took me a long time to get over. My marriage nearly fell apart in 2018 and we lived apart for a while. I’ve had a lot of mental health problems, have had to take time off work and eventually scale down my working life due to chronic health issues. I’ve had a lot of counselling over the decade. I’ve learnt to not only accept my fat body but to thrive while living in it, which is a radical act in itself. I’ve found not just one community of people but a few, with crossover interests. I am now thriving, but it’s taken the whole decade to do that.

But it’s not like the world has been kind in the last ten years. 2010 saw the Tory/Lib Dem coalition take power in Britain, a government which set in motion some of the worst policies affecting some of the poorest and most marginalised people in our society. The next general election saw David Cameron pander to Ukip voters and promise a referendum on Brexit, a referendum that unexpectedly got 52% of the vote and set in motion the past four and a half years of uncertainty, which dogs us still even as we move into 2020. 2016 saw Trump gain his place as America’s most unlikely president despite claims of rape and sexual assault against him. He has been impeached but probably won’t leave office and, as much as I don’t want to think it, will probably win again in 2020.

Health, money, a job, a house – they’re all privileges. They’re all precarious. And if just one gets taken away, it can thrust you into uncharted territory. Surviving any kind of personal crisis is something to be celebrated, if only for the very fact that many people do not survive.

As of 2019, I’ve been doing accounts work for twelve years. I’ve worked a number of jobs in both businesses and in charities, and I now work one day a week in a charity that’s very close to my heart. But I wouldn’t say I have anything close to a career. And that’s fine. It’s perfectly acceptable to simply have a job, to do that job and do it well, but to leave it behind in the office when you leave it at the end of the day. After a family conversation involving my 20something year old cousins, I made sure to press upon them that careers are optional, that there is life outside work, where you can read or craft or just relax. I would like to press that upon the reader here, too. Life however you want it or need it to be is good, and anything else is a bonus.

So if you survived the 2010s, well done. You can take that as your achievement for the ten years, the absolute pinnacle of what you’ve done. All the rest of it is superfluous to the requirements of life. Survival is radical in and of itself. If you find yourself in a marginalised group, whether that’s by colour, sexuality, disability, gender, class, or any combination of these or any more marginalisations, then you’ve done even better to survive. This is a hostile world and one where we can often feel alone and invisible. If you feel this way then I want to say: I see you. I’m proud of you for getting through it.

Image credit: Jamie