Sometimes, when I get really, really tired my emotions rev and my whole game is thrown off. I hold things personally and get so rigid that when I’m bent out of shape I’m easily broken. Exhaustion makes me mean. I picked fights for the fun of it and find myself kicking up a foofaraw.
For reasons unknown to anyone but myself & moi I argued with Kisa about a Christmas tree. Or, more accurately, the fact that we don’t have one…not in the traditional sense. No prickly needles to pick up. No pungent perfume of pine. No sticky, sappy pitch to peel from fingers. For ten years I have been asking if we can get away from plastic boughs and plug-in ornaments. Store-bought, imitation, manufactured, mess. On the eleventh year of Christmas I didn’t ask. I used fighting words and failed to say what I really meant to say. It’s just not Christmas without a real tree.
Last night I had dinner with the voice of reason. We had a spirited conversation that left me thinking a bit more compromise. Fresh boughs on the mantle, because hey, we finally got one to put boughs on. Scented candles that almost smell like the real thing, a wee Charlie Brown tree out in the yard… we had options. We focussed on the tree (or lack there of) for just a few more seconds before launching into heavier subjects with loftier goals. When she said “It’s not about you” I burst out laughing, but I knew what she meant. Everything she said made sense. I leaned into her advice and let it support me. I let myself dream about using that advice and seeing success. Could I dare dream of calm in the eye of the storm? Could I actually see myself surviving the barbs and bad things? It was a haven for my heartache.
I don’t know if I can be that strong in the face of chaos, but I can certainly try. I know I don’t have the calm that my wise friend has, but her advice inspired me to give it a chance. In the grand scheme of things she gave me the best gift of all. Hope.