Normally this would be a hum-humming day of Christmas music, hot chocolate and sunshine. Today it was growl-hiss, whine-pout. With some wine. And clouds. I woke up without gratitude. I could have told you this would happen, this nasty body snatch leaving Archie Bunker in place of Pollyanna.
It was the pie. And the cobbler. Possibly blame could be handed to cranberry sauce but vino is in line first. Sugar and I are in an abusive relationship. He promised it would be different this time and I believed him. Sort of. In my heart I knew the hold he had over me was too strong and before long I'd be as possessive of him as he is of me.
I know where the shelter is from this storm when I'm ready to get help. But I'm just not ready yet. The vanilla gelato in the freezer is one reason, but there is more. My story isn't finished. I need to know how it ends. What it does to me. Who I become. Stopping now would be fear. Judgment. Terror of being that fat girl. Judging myself for not having it all together.
Can I live within this discomfort? I hate not fixing it. But mostly I hate that it isn't over. That I have to live through this.I have to live with the fear with every piece of cheese, handful of nuts and equality exchange chocolate bar that this is truly who I am.
Iyanla Vanzant wrote today of forgiveness. Over and over again. In capital letters.
I scrolled super fast since clearly forgiveness does not apply to me. Except it does, doesn't it?
New year's resolution: forgive myself for being human.
What does being human mean, anyway? Dr. Brene Brown talks about babies and struggle. How we are all born wired for struggle. Not perfect, but with wires tensed inside ready to pull against one another as soon as circumstances present themselves.
Mostly, we talk about being human as the equivalent of spiritual acne. It just can't be helped. You will screw up. The road is bouncy and you have no built in suspension.
Except you do. I do. God. Jesus. Angels. Grace.
And so I've left a space for him in this new furniture arrangement. A big one. He will come in the form of a tree, which I will water faithfully. And decorate with the treasures of my life. I will fill it with lights from the trunk to every tiny twig so the glow will reach into every corner. For if my house is my soul, I want it to be bright.
A search about being human turned up this George Orwell quote: "The essence of being human is that one does not seek perfection."
I argued last week that to not seek perfection was immoral. Hmm. Another quote talks about being broken and whole at the same time. It is this dance I am trying to master right now.
But wait, isn't learning those steps just another potato sack hop toward perfection?
Perhaps. But grounded steps, not tip-toe reaches, are good for the soul. They are the nourishment we need to keep going. Gratitude flows more freely farther down that road.