Tough Times

I have defined my current life circumstances as tough times. The people in my life have defined my circumstances as tough times. And it's as though it requires a certain decorum, a seriousness, a sadness. I am worn out. Heavy-hearted. Tired of tough times.

It's true. My life is undergoing serious upheaval. Major change that includes major loss. And I have tough moments. But I am removing the heavy, smelly blanket of tough times. I am giving myself permission to be silly or sad or mad or giddy or lazy or carefree or devastated. I am shaking the notion that there is an appropriate way to be because times are tough. I am going to be vigilant in my response when someone asks with obvious concern how I'm doing. I will fight the temptation to tell them what I think they expect to hear. "Oh, I'm getting better." "Every day is a little easier." "I am feeling more settled." Some socially acceptable version of how I think I should be feeling. I will check in with myself and be honest. Even if it means telling them that I am great. Never better. Or if it means telling them I am fucking devastated. Never worse.

And I am giving myself permission to find some lightheartedness. Share dirty jokes with good friends. Spend a day in my pyjamas, eat whatever I want and watch ridiculous movies. Because I need a heart-lightening belly laugh more than food and water. And because there is no gold star for hanging onto my tough moments for so long that they become tough times, a few rough years, a hard life.