It's been a month. Hey, friends. How are you?
I'm doing ok. Like, actually ok.
(looks left) (looks right)
Is it safe to say that? Is it wise to say that? I dunno. I'm not superstitious, but... I also don't want to jinx it. Things have been hard. And not for the usual global reasons, but the usual personal reasons. And things have been extraordinary, which has all been quite wonderful but also very mind-fucking. In a good way. But in a way.
Things are ok.
I'm sad about a bunch of stuff, but I'm ok with being sad about stuff. I'm happy about a lot more, and while there's no utilitarianism to happiness, no math to these emotions -- grief is entirely unquantifiable, and unpredictable -- having things to be happy about is a great way to feel better about the sad stuff.
I'm getting the hang of my new job, and while it's going to be difficult for a bunch of reasons, none of them are reasons that are outside of my control. They're things I can fix, or impact, or help with, or come to terms with, or figure out. It's just hard work. I can do that.
And I'm getting the hang of using my body. We've been renoing a tonne, and at the end of the day I'm sore and tired, but I've made visible progress. It's a great anodyne to a lot of dissatisfaction and uncertainty: look! a floor! look! a garden fence! a small river, complete with frogs! I'm trying not to be house-proud, but house-content. Because wherever you go, there you are. Making it nice is OK.
And that's generally going to be the theme for the next few months.
Ok is ok.