There’s a danish word Hygge: it means something along the lines of cosy and comfortable. My brother told me about this word as he joked that this is what I’ve become obsessed with: making hygge. I think he’s right in a way: Since I took ill, I’ve become much more interested in decorating, and the changes at least when it comes to direction and style are quite clear.
I grew up with a dad who was a newly graduated architect - keen to put his mark on the world and with very strong ideas about what was good design. Things were supposed to be modern and clean, no extra adornments anywhere. The walls had Pablo Picasso prints, and Théo Tobiasse lithographies. Modern, modern, modern. How very strange that I wanted something completely different. And a long time it took me to admit even to myself that I liked the complete opposite - old furniture and pillows with flowers on them. It wasn’t until I got the very real reminder that I didn’t have forever to grow into myself that I decided to not care that I was supposed to like polished steel and modern lines, and thus threw it out. Now, I only put into my house what I really like - and I don’t really give a damn what anyone thinks of my style - because it makes me happy.
And in the evenings I light candles and make as much hygge as I possibly can, and I cuddle up with the kids in the sofa and feel my heart lift with gratitude that I got this day as well, this love too.
This round of chemo has been so hard emotionally, so taxing. At times I fill with this vast sadness, how much I hate this illness, how fervently I wish I could be well again. When nothing else helps, lighting some candles, cooking something nice and making hygge seems like a good way to at least try harder to enjoy the present.