February is nearly through, and for the year's shortest month it has been packed. Calligraphy, job rejections, culture-club projects at work, a debilitating cold, super-needed vacation days, phone dates with far-flung loves, a baby shower, and lots of cooking in the new space. As for the last item in that list, I feel lucky beyond belief to have my beautiful, renovated kitchen. It changes the feeling of my entire home, and I love that I have spent numerous minutes in it just reflecting on the beauty of the space, feeling grateful.
While driving to an appointment last night I began to think about how difficult it is to not be hardened by the world. The world can feel so harsh and complicated, cruel at its worst. To remain hopeful and light - as we grow older, in the lowest moments, these things can feel naive and shortsighted. But, oh, how exhausting that perspective is as well. Yes, at times, it may feel like a huge challenge to not let the disappointments of the world make us bitter, but I am so seeking that middle ground that can accept the difficulties while finding the beauty. (Of course, immediately I think about how the art of calligraphy is a perfect analogy for this whole dialogue, but stating that is point enough. No need to wax poeties about calligraphy...yet.)
What I really began to think about as I acknowledged my own difficulty - lately - to not harden and close off because of disappointments, failures, and rejections, is that I used to laugh a lot more. I used to be more playful and light and glee-filled even. Where the hell did my sense of humor go? When did things get so serious, and why?
Work has been difficult. Love has been difficult/nonexistent. Family has been difficult.
But I used to be able to move through some of these realities with a damn good sense of humor. This blog is obviously no evidence to that, as someone reading it would doubt I had one funny bone in my entire body. And yes, my inclination to reflect often comes from a darker impulse, but I suppose one of the skins I'm in the process of shedding (sorry, was that a gross analogy?) is this humorless, cynical worst-case-scenario gal. There's a place for that person, and it's fine to be reflective or heartbroken or processing (or all at once), but sometimes I just need to lighten the load by LAUGHING.
Hilariously my shrink told me -during a paid therapy session mind you - that I should have a sitcom. And then she cracked up just imagining it. Which feels like the strangest feedback I could ever get from my therapist. Like, you have been enjoying this? This isn't torture to you? You find this - and me - funny?!
She said I should think about creating a pilot wherein single girl explores the world/my world through cooking, gardening, and other misadventures. If anyone knows someone looking to fund this sort of project, leave a comment with their contact information.