Stand Up Passionately

Quite honestly, this year has sucked so far.

I’ve been knocked down quite a few times and my knees are scraped and muddy. You know what comes next;

Fall seven times, stand up 8.

I get knocked down and I get up again, you are never gonna keep me down.

It’s not about how many times you get knocked down that counts, it’s how many times you get back up. 

etc.

We all know that we have to get up. We all know that part of being a human being means that life is stupid a large portion of the time and we just have to keep truckin’. To be honest, I think standing up and pushing onward is the easy part.

The human spirit is resilient and can take a lot of pressure without being crushed. We are designed to adjust to changes and disappointments thrown our way. If I lost my job, I would start looking for a new one. If I had to relocate, I would find new hangouts and a new community. Moving forward isn’t hard. We do it all the time.

The part that I find difficult is pulling myself up from the dirt with passion. As this crummy year has continued to trip me over and over, I find that my excitement for things is zapped. I still get up every morning. I still go to work. I still run and write. I still spend time with my favorite people whenever possible.

They still make me happy, but I’m just so tired all the time from dragging myself through all the bull that everything seems to have lost its shine. Like the flavor of your favorite food when you’re hungover.

I’ve always been a firm believer that you can’t have a bad year. Bad things happen all the time, but so do good things. How can 365 years be bad? How can people reach the end of December and say, Oh my God, I’m so glad this year is over.

The way my year has been going, I am starting to understand it. It’s not that good things don’t happen. In fact, lots of good things could have happened, but they just seem a little dull when you’re exhausted from pulling yourself up from the ground all the time.

So, even though the year is more than half over, I’m setting a resolution for myself. To finish out the year passionately. To splash some color on my monochromatic outlook. To shake off the dust and add a little bounce to my step. To read a big, fat book. To get wine drunk with my best friend and talk about our high school boyfriends. To go for a run when it’s so cold I can barely breathe and my fingers feel like they’re going to fall off.

After all, what’s life without things that make your heart soar? Purposeless.

Now, am I going to stick to any of these pretty resolutions? I have no idea. I was feeling particularly inspired when I wrote all of this. Maybe I’ll just hide under my bed eating dry Special K out of the box instead. I make no promises, but I will say that I’ll at least try.  I don’t want to be the one sitting in my living room in PJs and fuzzy socks on January 1st saying, I’m so glad that’s over.