Eat the Donut, or Not

My friend Rachel told me, “We come in naked and we leave in ashes.” It was an annoying  response to the question of whether she thought I should adjust my HRT or go  blonder again. Or maybe I should embark on another round of de-cluttering, or re-cluttering?

She was right of course, on some level it’s all fiddling waiting to die. But  also sometimes I Just Want Someone to Tell Me What to Do to Feel Better.

And then I remember it is not out there. Striving for the perfect cocktail of stimuli and wellbeing is another form of self-torture, a highway to a living hell.

Despite what my feed and the omnipresent wellness industrial complex tells me, I know the relationship between how I feel and all this other external stuff, beyond the  basics, is pretty much zero.

I’ve been fatter, poorer, sicker, and felt better. I’ve been under-employed, over-employed, married, single, blonder, younger, had a pet, had no pet, had too many pets, gone vegan, gone paleo, gone gluten-free, gone to India, gone to Italy, gone to Esalen, and felt shitty or awesome, or both, sometimes the same day, sometimes the same hour.

And sometimes remembering that is the most helpful thing I can do for myself. I can remember that I am a human with human moods and cycles having a human experience and whatever it is it will pass. Not in a nihilistic way but in a way that says, “Eat the donut every once in a while, or don’t. You are okay either way and you are okay even when you don’t feel okay.” New sofa, new kitchen, new car, new face, or not. Happy New Year. I’m gonna keep going.