It’s post-holiday time, and I am feeling lazy.
Lazy like a sluggish sloth, or maybe more like a slothful slug. Like a plump limp slug on the ground – nowhere to go – barely moving even after you poke at it some.
The joy of ringing in the fresh, New Year is long gone. My sons flew back to college and the house got quiet and lifeless in a flash. Were we really all together here just recently indulging in wonderful food, drinks and silly family fun?
It seems like forever ago.
The exuberance for achieving my New Year’s goals dissipated quickly for me. I lasted exactly 3 hours before cheating on my diet. (Will I ever be able to say “No” to a freshly opened bag of sea salt kettle potato chips? ) And although I created a special work-out calendar to track my usual “exercise more” resolution, I have truthfully completed a total of,… drumroll please…. one, yes uno, yes that would be a lone, singularly, solitary, totally unenthusiastic work-out.
And lastly my goal to tidy up and get rid of bags upon bags of old bills and mail that have accumulated over, dare I say, years — is far, far, oh so far from my mind. You see after I took one look at the Mount Everest of papers I got immediately overwhelmed and tossed a blanket over the mess. Childish perhaps, but this stall tactic is actually working quite well for me as I no longer have guilt about procrastinating because I have no desire to lift the blanket. Why? Because it looks like a soft, rolling hill, fleecy landscape that somehow I actually find soothing.
O.K. so where am I going with this? You probably think I have said to myself “Snap out of it!” or “It’s Time to Pull Yourself Together!”… but no. I am actually not doing that at all.
You see, I have come to the conclusion that it is absolutely alright to just hit the brakes on this New Year/New You thing and just allow myself to wallow a bit.
I am not feeling perky about 2019 or the things I want to accomplish. At least not yet.
I miss my kids, and am feeling the weight (both literally and figuratively) of being another year older and am thinking warily about the future of our country and the world and I want to know–“Where is the Love?” etc.
These are the things that weigh heavily on my mind just now. And instead of locking these gloomy thoughts away, I have decided to embrace the blues for now.
I honestly feel that wallowing can be a healthy, helpful thing. That is as long as you snap out of it sooner than later and don’t let it become a permanent stain on your psyche.
And yes, I realize that sweeping my sad empty-nest feelings and other worldly worries under the rug is no way to maturely deal with problems. Because just like the old papers hiding under the mounds of my creamy fleece blanket, eventually that stuff will poke its head out. And like all problems, they come out of hiding from the recesses of your mind and park right in the front. Then you have reached a point where you have to come up with a real game plan to deal with them.
But I am not there yet. I am still in hiding. And as I am still not ready to tackle my listlessness, I am just going to embrace my doldrums. Turn it into an art form.
I will take my time. Live leisurely and lay low for a while.
Listen to melancholy Chris Isaak tunes.
Watch the rainy wind blow.
Observe the falling leaves as they create ripples in the puddles…
Making a comfy home for my spirit animal,
The lamented, slow-rider slug.