I woke up this morning and the heaviness that I’d grown used to had somewhat dissipated. For the last two weeks, the days have been gloomy. Mornings have been especially difficult. The months before that have been hazy.
There’s a sense of unfamiliar pleasure when the melancholy dissipates.
Like when you’ve had an ulcer for a week and suddenly one morning, you realise it’s gone. Or when you’ve had a migraine for three days and after a cold shower it suddenly goes away.
The world feels new. It suddenly looks different. Everything feels a little more survivable.
These moments right after the melancholy are gratifying respites before the high takes over. But we’ll cross that bridge when it comes.
For now, I’m grateful that Christmas this year feels right.
I’m surrounded by family and friends. I have work that I love, that I’m eager to begin when the holiday period is over (that I might sneak in during the year-end break).
This Christmas is quiet. There have been no parties or big social events. But it’s reminded me that real joy can occur in the stillness.
That it isn’t something to strive for or chase after. It’s not something external to quest after.
It comes from inside.