“What are you going to do? Everything is my guess. It will be a little messy but embrace the mess. It will be complicated but rejoice in the complications.” – Nora Ephron

It’s February and I’m not feeling the Joy. Everyone I speak to family and otherwise seem shipwrecked, screwed up, broken and scared. They phone me to buoy them up and I feel I have become, a Shock Absorber.

Dear Reader, I know that life is wild and heartbreaking, weird, rich and profound and that I have been designed for Joy. I have everything I need. But Alas and Alack, my Joy is gone.

I started out the New Year aiming to look after my health, happiness, at least contentedness in the smallest moments. When I stop being my selfish, whiny self—stepping out of my world—and saying hello to a stranger, a lonely person, seniors, I usually become joyful. Somehow, I woke up one morning to find myself emotionally exhausted and anxious. 

I am not always fun to be around. I can be disagreeable, short-tempered and short on forgiveness especially to myself. Maybe God or Whoever Supremely rules, will intervene. My role in life is changing but my feet and my right hip frequently hurt. Where is my Center? 

“It’s better not to be bitter.” – Me

In this winter as we turn away from the dark into new life and renewal, I’ve made a vow to myself to be curious and pay attention —also to nature and less to F**ed Radio that plays in my head right now. I’ve become a mood disordered person on a Zombie Walk.

For life to be fun again, I realize that I need to catch a breath when I can and remember to read good books. Uplifting books. My editor has written some terrific ones.

So, I ask you. Are you as sick of the dark as I am? It’s scary but the stars come out at night and so does the moon and that’s beautiful on a beautiful night, and yet I can easily ruin it. So, I’m not going to. In these dark times what we’re left with is each other, our messy friends and family who can mess with our heads. Even in my barren yard, the Pines are green. The sun seeks to shine through them.

“I wish there was better news” I said to my Coffee Maker. Rage and Crazy and the Ole Shock and Awe. The same old story.

However, I can treat people better. And though they make me anxious and crazy, I try to answer the phone when they call with some calm. To help others and put on a smile just by SEEING them. 

I’m sixty-seven years old and yet feel like a young woman who has something wrong with her. I’m going to figure out how to fix this to find all of this funny in retrospect.

I will let you know when I do.

Till then, don’t lose your sense of humour.