Okay, Self.

Let’s take some time to see where we are.

We survived that Turkey Day over a month ago.

Yes, some ugly moments might’ve slipped in… Some awkward moments, too. But!

We’re still here.


Next: that time when all your world goes crazy?

Typically November 28 until December 26.


Those were rough days.

But we survived.

The jostle, the hustle, the bustle— we kinda dodged it. Sorta.

We tried to keep to treatments the professionals had us on.

Some people we hold in our heart helped us surf the anxiety and depression.

Others… didn’t.

(Note here, Self: need to practice forgiveness in 2023. Think of it as a goal.)

We made it to Christmas.


Just wanted our bed (seriously) and sighed a ton (okay, maybe half a ton), but we made it to December 26.

We contemplated life and everything adjacent to it from December 27 until December 31.

Then the anxiety and depression spiked, then it fell.

Self, we did our best to self-care.

We did our best to find our pockets of hope.

We looked up to God and asked for help. Surrendered again.

He felt close.

Very close.

Self, we have to trust.

2022 may have tried to break us in two and leave us out with the garbage, but we know, we know, we are going to get better.

No matter what crazy the world is up to.

No matter what crazy people do.

I love you, Self.

I’m sorry you hurt so much this last year.

2023 may hurt, too.

But maybe it won’t.

Maybe we’ll meet kind, understanding people who will let us be us.

Maybe we’ll have a spiritual awakening. (I hear God likes attention.)

Maybe we’ll get a lot past that freaking stuff we talk to our therapist about.


And maybe we’ll invent something that helps other people. (We’ve always wondered what that would feel like.)

The same way we got up, got dressed (albeit poorly), and did a thing or two before moping into the ol’ journal, we’re gonna do it again.

And again.

Because the sunshine promises a new day keeps trying to break through the dark.

Even the moon helps.

And the stars. (You like stars, don’t you, Self?)

Don’t beat yourself for balking at that New Year’s resolutions crap.

We can laugh a little at everyone trying too hard.

And maybe we’ll try to remind them that they are enough just as they are. (At least, that’s what the therapist says, huh, Self?)


Bring on January 1.

And January 2.

And January 3.

Sunshine is coming, Self.

We press on until we feel it.

Okay, Self.

Good talk.