And then February finally ends and the last remaining spark of energetic hope that survived the winter somehow rekindles. This year’s spark is the dimmest in recent years, barely hanging on, a mere shadow of what it could be. February is a cruel month, eternally long for as short as it is, and this year wrapping up such a long and tumultuous twelve months only added to the difficulty. I’ve wanted nothing more this month than to crawl into bed and stay there until…later, much later. Hibernating from January 5th until the end of March would do my psyche a world of good.
But February is over now, blessedly over, and things will get better, right? Right? Don’t answer that.
I didn’t complete my February self-care bingo card but did manage to fill a column and cross off enough remaining squares to feel accomplished. For a crap month I’ll take it. I have higher hopes for March:
Spring break is the last week of March and I’ll plan for that separately, full of relaxation and enjoying as much nothing as possible while maintaining a pulse. While I’m working to not wish away the days and weeks, it can’t get here soon enough.
On a different note, I’m fortunate to have gotten both covid shots this month. When it’s your turn to get vaccinated, do it. Please. Wear masks, wash hands, keep your distance, get the vaccine. Let’s get past this sonofabitch.