Listen up, you Titans of Internetlandia! It’s time to drop that pose of harried self-hatred and run from the glums!
>> So look in the mirror (ignore the badly dried bangs, the bruise-like eyecircles, the pallor of doomed fish) and repeat after me:
You are doing what you can, you who have so much, but feel such lack. These are trying days and you’re mostly fine. Everything else is just momentary wobbles and temporary fury. Try not to kick the dogs, even though their toileting has slipped and their behavior would irritate saints. Try not to come down so hard on yourself. Try to be kind and generous and infrequently alone. Practice the long view and if that doesn’t work, go la-la-la-I-can’t-hear-you until the mood passes. Don’t be your own enemy.
>> Now look at the screen (ignore the ratcheting misdeeds and hate-screeds, the fumbled opportunities, the crowing of the schaden-junkies) and repeat after me:
We can’t quiet the voices in our heads, but we can kill the voices on our screens. Take a break from the inanity, the insanity, the endless natter and chatter. We may miss an event or ten—a wrong move, a sudden scandal, a dire outbreak—but we’ll be shielded from the response, as well, the unending overreactions of all those galling twats who would make us feel less. Do not let them in.
>> Then look out the window (ignore the yellow dagger-cicles hanging from tired eaves, the filthy shit-bespecked snow, the relentlessly leaden sky) and repeat after me:
We’ve almost conquered January, the month that makes a witch’s tit look tropical. March will roll around one of these days and then we’ll complain about the rain. Even summer will come soon enough and we’ll wallow in the swelter, longing for the cooler north, just we dream ourselves south in wintertime. But better days are on the way: there will be warm evenings on porches with friends. There will be bike rides. There will be epic treks with dog and camera. Just hold on.
And what are you telling yourself to make it all better as we trudge into February?