January birthday and blues

Celebrating another whirl around the sun. January is always a crap month, and this year epically so, but it’s also birthday month for me. Hurray. Cue firework: pop, fizzle.

I can already count two major life stressors this month on two fingers, but if I held those digits up, it wouldn’t make a very nice gesture. Nevertheless, such a gesture might befit both situations.

But, let’s focus on the positives. I had a lovely birthday evening with my family. Chinese food and wine. Can’t beat it. I probably have five new grey hairs from the stress already this month, but let’s look on the bright side: I got some super-sweet prezzies and cards from my hubby, kid and friends and birthday wishes from the very few people who actually remembered it was my birthday without needing Facebook to tell them so.

So, a toast to another year. Should I cut down my alcohol intake? Maybe. As of December 2022, I’ve been cake and chocolate free. There’s got to be some joy in life. Nope, caffeine and alcohol stay on my shopping list. In moderation? I’ll try.

As with anything else in life, I’ll try. I’ll try my best? Hmm. Writing-wise, the stress has cooked my brain this month, so no… I haven’t been too productive over the past couple of weeks on that front. Guess ‘I’ll try’ doesn’t work for everything.

Is this a depressing post? I don’t think so. Philosophical, perhaps, but not quite verging on depression. If there was a ghost of January-past for every year of my life (yikes, that’s a lot of Januarys. Say no more) then I’d be haunted by one from almost a decade ago, ready to hit me over the head with its gavel.

January blues, eh? If I didn’t laugh, I’d cry. This week, after breaking out in hives from stress, I did actually laugh. Laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you cry alone. Where does therapy fit in with that? Self-therapy works for me. Ha ha, bottoms up.