I want to say something about the bleak days of January. But damn it, that’s a hard thing to do when all you want to do is lie on your couch in a fleece space suit watching Investigation Discovery and tossing Trader Joes’ Cheese puffs into your food hole.
It’s the day after the winter solstice, which — if you’re anything like me —traditionally represents the height of your winter madness and the rock-bottom of your deeply-dug “I-Hate-People” hole.
But I feel pretty ok. And it’s not because something particularly glittery or exciting has occurred in my life. Life keeps pooping along like it always does. And I’m not feeling joyous or running through the streets of Boston throwing tinsel and anything that can be tinseled. I’m still anti-tinsel. It’s not holiday mania, in other words. But I feel ok, and that is kind of remarkable.
For the last few years, I have faked my way through the holidays like a champ. I was still working on getting myself settled and divorced and yes, probably hoping that by the next Christmas my cup would run over with joy. And now I’m here. My cup runneth over with “just ok.” Or maybe my cup just runneth not with misery. My cup is legitimately fine, thank you.
Enough about my cup.
This perfect little illustration describes how I feel right now (Not mine, but borrowed from Hyperbole and a Half — a wonderful blog that I can’t recommend enough).
I’m feeling empowered by my state in life. Which is weird because I don’t have a lot of the stuff I’m “supposed” to have locked in. (relationship, mortgage, kids, clear sense of exactly what the rest of my life will look like, an unbroken door handle on my car, etc.) I feel like I either:
A. Accidentally stumbled upon the secret to happiness, which is to fail at life and figure out what you want.; or
B. Hit my head and am in a drug-induced coma, so none of this is actually real.
Either way, I’m just going with it. Next week, life will probably kick my ass just for being so damned cocky.
How are you all? Doing ok?