January is usually an off month for me.
Let down from the holidays? Burn out from overdoing it? Feeling the weight of a new year?
I’ve never been able to pinpoint a why.
Part of me wants to trust that my brain and body know what I need, so I simply wrap myself up in the feeling, hunker down and ride the wave of depression and self-doubt until it rolls me onto the shore in February. That usually involves immersing myself in fiction. Lots and lots of fiction. Five, six, seven books in one month.
That hasn’t really been an option for a few years now.
The other part of me wants to battle it out by doing some deep cleaning, sorting, organizing and rearranging. I pack up the holiday decorations, scrub down the kitchen top to bottom, wipe walls, touch up paint around light switches and baseboards, clean windows, vacuum vents, move the fridge and stove and clean behind them. All this is done with the intent, not to have a cleaner home, but to attempt a sense of control over my environment. Which logically, you’d think, would bring a sense of control over my life. Unfortunately, this is an illusion.
Dirt happens. Life happens. Crap happens. Reality happens.
Oh sure, great stuff happens too, plenty of it. But we’re not going to gloss over the not so great stuff. Not in January. Not today.
Life is hard.
January is my month to admit it, accept it, internalize it, avoid it, fight it, whine about it, come to terms with it. It’s my reality check month.
Not that other months aren’t their own kind of reality check. Surely they are, some more than others. But January seems hardwired for the task.
I’m tired after the fun and frolic and frantic craziness of December. I’m ready for some me time.
Almost half way through 2012 I had a month that knocked me on my butt. I escaped to my cousin’s house for rest and recovery. She was a gem. I did some soul-searching, some sleeping, some denial, some hiking. I felt better. Then I got back on the treadmill and kept going.
It was my mid-year mini-January, I guess.
My body is telling me this particular January is a reading month. The cleaning may have to wait until this mean cough I woke up with goes away and the headache stops beating me up. In the meantime I have some ebooks, audio books, tangible books. And I have an electric blanket, soup and hot cocoa, and blessedly, some Tylenol.
Hoping your January is simply one of renewal and looking forward to good things.
Oh, and any book suggestions you want to send my way would be welcome.
Happy New Year!