It�s my second New Year�s sober. I stayed home and did laundry. I thought about skipping the laundry, because it seemed excessively monastic for New Year�s, but we just got a new dryer so that made it more of a party atmosphere.

I did a good job at being positive as I reviewed my year and my general position in life. I mean, it�s not really debatable that I�m doing great. But for some reason I still try to debate it. I feel guilty sometimes for being happy, like I need to run out and make a sacrifice or poke myself in the eye with a pencil to even things out. I should try to get to the bottom of this feeling, because I think it helps tip me into self-pity. I feel more comfortable (and somehow safer) feeling sorry for myself than I do thinking about how good my life is.

On New Year�s Eve day we had a busy day at work, so I didn�t have time to think too much, which was good. I could feel a mild static building up in my mind and I wanted to be alone. On the way home, looking out the bus window, I saw a woman dressed up for a night out, with strappy heels and a long diaphanous skirt, and I thought, �Will I ever have a reason to dress up again?� I knew it was a stupid thought but I allowed it to be painful.

At home I was fine. I thought about staying up but it seemed stupid, so I went to bed. I was wakened at midnight by some gunfire and I felt glad to be safe in bed. Rather, I should have felt that way. The way I really felt was more complicated.

Then, the next day, as always, the sun was out and everything was clear. I went for a run with a friend and we got coffee and I felt firmly and happily in the land of the living.

Happy new year.

prev // next