Postponing 1989

Last night, I attended my first (and only) Christmas party for this holiday season. I had a full day at work and even went home to get out of the clothes that had the residue of impatient clients and air conditioning. My package came in for the 1989 LP that I ordered from the Ryan Adams webstore. I was tempted (level: Garden of Eden) to stay home and just lose myself in vinyl and Taylor Swift lyrics. There was a blackout at the house so I wanted to get out of the house as fast as I could before I could use it as an excuse. Darkness in its various forms make great excuses to get out of all sorts of interactions. I also wanted to be with my friends.

When I was at the party, I could feel myself leaving so that I can watch myself in the party from a safe distance. I wanted to stay in the room so I just walked around and eventually stayed with the group making ginger bread houses. I laughed and smiled and looked people in the eye. I saw them and they saw me. When I got home, the power was still out and the daytime winds made the sky so clear. Constellations looked down on me and I met their gaze while standing still. I decided that having days like these need to be remembered. Days when the depression was nowhere to be seen because I took my “medication” (SAM-e) and forgot the negative self-talk. Days like this need to be revered, too. They can show up like unexpected gifts. It might be an impetus to make them more common so that they become less like gifts and more like accomplishments. When they become more common, then they pile up and the remembrance and reverence fade into a new normal.

I hope that these days are not far from one another as I proceed into a new year. I’d like to commemorate more of these days when that ended with wonder instead of questions. The music in my room can wait – I apparently have things to do and people to see.