“November 1: I think I need to take it easier on myself.”
My tickler is full of reminders I give myself on red-letter holidays; reminders I don’t usually follow because I either forget, or I don’t follow my own advice. On my birthday, I reminded myself to quit smoking. Valentine’s Day, I reminded myself to take it easy on the drink. A friend had to lay it on me on this red-letter day: I take too much joy in self-mortification. It seems that I’m at my best when I’m depressed. Although it’s what she said afterward that really hit hard: what would I become at my worst?
It’s the first of November, and everywhere I see changes, mostly from my friends who are more than willing and able to change their lives for the better. A friend underwent surgery to lose weight. An acquaintance voluntarily entered a rehab program. Still another friend gave up her career to pursue her dreams of becoming a doctor. Oh sure, I’ve gone through many changes, but I still can’t stand to look at that face in the mirror.
