Holy crap, I have been deathly ill since Sunday. Yes, I have been in hell for five full days. Here’s the thing. Every year around the holidays, I get sick. And no, not just some coughing, sniffles, and headaches. I get really sick: watering eyes, major congestion, body aches, and crazy-ass fever. I just sweated my brains out for days. Yup, awoke every few hours in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. It was disgusting. All of this started Sunday, after well, we had been back East for a week, and I was exposed to a gabillion sick people, but who’s pointing a finger, right?

By Wednesday, I was feeling slightly better so I cleaned the house, did a ton of laundry, and changed all the sheets. Well, turns out I over did it on Wednesday, because Thursday returned to bite me in the ass, and here we are on Friday afternoon, and I am still in bed. Wth??

But this is what I have now concluded. I get sick every year around the holidays, because they just stress me the fuck out. Whether I visit family (as in this year’s case) or not, the end of the year is a time of massive reflection and overthinking. Yes, I do those things year-round, but in December, they kick up a notch. You know, all that fun crap like what did I get done in the last year, am I a better/improved person, do I have more of my life figured out, is Bubbey happy, are my parents happier, how much longer will Remy last, etc.? This year the family time was actually pretty painless. My parents aren’t quite as critical of me now that I am older, so they don’t really say things that trigger my usual angry, belligerent responses. That said, I still feel the disappointment and sadness. They don’t say anything anymore, but that doesn’t mean they don’t think/feel sadness. They just don’t express it to me anymore. And yeah, nothing can be done. My brother is not going to suddenly become the concerned, responsible, caring person we all want him to be. I’m not going to have the children they want me to have. These facts of life are immutable. So I can easily say, well serves them right for having expectations, for hinging their happiness on these uncontrollable factors. And yet, I do this all the time myself. I deprive myself of happiness, because the people I love are not happy. I look at everyone else around me and I focus on what I am lacking, how I am deficient. I understand this behavior all too well. I know I can’t change these things for my parents, so I try to live my own life another way. I try to find positive energies in activities, in friends, in learning, in meditation, in new habits. But these demons invariably find me again. And so I end each year feeling overwhelmed by all my inadequacies, by all my faults. And I make myself sick. I haven’t slept well for probably the last month. I stopped exercising. The downward spiral begins, and wham, what do you know, I’m sick.

But the good thing about me, is that I’m tough. Maybe not physically, as evidenced by my year-end downfall, but mentally, I am resilient. It’s a new year, and I have new goals. Yes, I fell off the wagon, but you know what, I’m getting back on. What else is there to do? Unlike with other years, I don’t have a whole list of resolutions. But I know I want to keep taking those baby steps and keep doing things I love and enjoy. But definitely, I need to start sleeping again. I am convinced good sleep is the secret of successful people. 😉

Tonight, I start anew. Happy New Year everybody. I wish you all good things!