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December 28th seems like a perfectly reasonable day to have a couch day. Not that reason or permission need to be a part of it, but here I am justifying it. Christmas was good and also really hard. The holiday season is good and also really hard. And the hard has caught up with me.

There’s so much to do–cleaning up boxes and tissue paper, putting away gifts. The kitchen is not completely dirty, but it’s not clean either. Laundry. Sweeping. There’s still mail and paperwork to be filed and sorted. And I look at it all with a big fat NOPE. Nope, not today. Today, I will not. Maybe tomorrow.

On this particular couch day, I’m going to rest and reflect. Walking in town these past gray days, I understand how people can believe in ghosts. I saw someone walking in the distance with a yellow jacket. BAM! Right in the gut. I catch somone’s profile just out of the corner of my eye. BAM! Right in the gut again. I’m sad. I’m frustrated. And sometimes I’m even mad. How dare he leave me! It is possible to be grateful, joyful, and completely heartbroken and mad all at the same time. It’s a lot to process and so once in a while–COUCH DAY.

I hope if you’re in need of a break, you can catch a couch day soon. We can pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, start all over again, but tomorrow. Today, we couch.

[Tip Jar: https://venmo.com/u/Rebecca-Lubbers-1]

I chatted with a retired ER nurse and retired fire chief this evening. I’m amazed by people who can deliberately pit themselves against tragedy and catastrophe, willingly walking into the maw. What kind of mettle is that? But I step back and reflect on a recent conversation with Mary. Everybody gets dealt their “hard” cards. All of us. The price of admission to this show is heartache and pain. And every single person has, is, or will suffer. Wow, what a cheerful Merry Christmas pep talk, Becci. Way to make spirits bright.

But this pain, this suffering, it’s only one part of the story. There is still joy. Delight. Wonder. Play. Laughter. Connection. Hope. Love. There are opportunities every day to make new memories, good memories.

I had every intention of hiding under a blanket after Christmas breakfast and present-opening with Mary this morning. And I may do that tomorrow; the jury is out. But today, instead, I went for yet another glorious walk at Mill Creek. I had dinner with Mary, her mom, and her step-dad. (Sara makes a very fine prime rib!) I went to Walter and Danielle’s for a visit this evening. Interspersed through it all were gifts and messages from loved ones and kitty cuddles thrown in for good measure.

And if you did hide under a blanket today, there’s no shame in that. It’s a tough day. If you forged ahead in stressful circumstances, congratulations, you made it through. If you had the very best day full of every good thing, I am so glad, I wish that for everyone. Most of us probably had some mixture of all of the above, and that’s okay too. Good enough is the enemy of perfect.

I am not a pagan on purpose. I am a person who lives in a place with all four seasons, whose body is marked by lunar cycles, who feels as connected to the earth as someone who digs and sows and harvests can, who feels the emotional weight of changing light.

Shortest day. Longest night. The light returns.

It is so easy to believe that it will only ever be this moody gray during the day. The night darkness will go on and on forever. Grief is like this. Permanent heartache. Permanent gray. The sorrow draws on and on like these dark days. But our experience and science tell us the light will come back. Every year, so far, it has.

I’m banking on this theory of seasons and light. I’m going all in on hope. I’m throwing my lot in with each new season, experience, and opportunity. I’m also giving myself one helluva pep talk to convince myself.

Fake it ’til you make it. Don’t think, just go. Emotions follow action. I can hear Bryan say all of these. Maybe not everything is done with panache and grace. Sometimes it’s just gritting one’s teeth and powering through.

If you’re experiencing grief and heartache in some manner and you feel like you’re just powering through, know that someone out there gets it. And spring will come again…

…in 89 days.

[Virtual tip jar: https://venmo.com/u/Rebecca-Lubbers-1]

I know it’s essential to get out of my house and do things, particularly this winter, this year. But I’ll level with you, I have a big case of the “don’t wannas.” I’m ultimately glad that I do when I do, but this is the preparation process almost every single time:

Laugh with me and don’t worry too much. 😛

Most of my day is spent trying to out-maneuver myself. Grief, depression, anxiety, lethargy would take their turns destroying me, grinding me into Becci dust. My biggest rival, my most daunting enemy, my biggest challenge is me. So how does hacking my brain work?

First, I decided what definition of perfection I would tolerate in my life. Without flaw or error? Nope. Not going to be part of my day-to-day. Perfection as complete, okay, we can talk. My bonus mom and I had a chat via text the other day. We talked about “progress over perfection.” There’s a reason why she quotes What About Bob. “Baby steps, Bob.” My big brother has two sayings that also help me hack my brain. 1. How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time; and 2. “Too easy.”

Second, I put things on my calendar that I force myself to do. Do I want to? No. I want to stay wrapped up in flannel sheets in jammies surrounded by cats. Cat-lady tropes? BECAUSE IT’S AWESOME! But it’s not a life of connection with other humans. Events, parties, dinners, concerts–on the calendar. Do it anyway. 72-76% of the time, I’m really glad I did. That’s a solid passing grade.

Third, I engage in activities that mute/side-step/defy the internal critic–flowers and vegetables growing in the backyard, walks in nature, creating art, baking, writing, joy-nugget hunting.

Fourth, I do housework like I’m playing a video-game. I do not have the will or energy to scrub my house top to bottom once a week or month. I don’t have it in me. So I do the “just five things” strategy. Bec, just put five things away. Sometimes I stop at five and sometimes the momentum gives me energy to push through. But I can at least do five things. If I’m moving from one room to another, I check to see if I can bring something with me to put away or organize really quickly. [Side note: I had the SHITTIEST waitressing job out of college and I learned very quickly that fewer trips were better for my feet. So make each trip count.]

Fifth, music sets the tone. If I need to be energized, I play the upbeat, fast-paced music. If I need to calm down and relax, I play something soothing. And if I need to scrub floors, I play some Norwegian death metal. Just kidding.

Sixth, a shower or a bath. Warm running water is a reset.

Seventh, sometimes none of these work at all. So I rest. And extend grace. And recognize tomorrow will probably be different. Hopefully.