Pollyanna Walks at the End of the Movie and I’m Writing Again. Fuck Pollyanna!

You know those times in your life when it seems like your spirit is half-dead?  It’s hard to keep moving, damn near impossible to get out of bed and jeezus forget about taking a shower on a Sunday when you’ve got nowhere to go and no one to see?

Just about the whole past year has been like that for me (if these feelings are not part of your life experience, please pop this movie in your VCR and go away).

I have barely written.  And what’s that thing you do to burn calories?  Oh yeah, exercise?  Umm … not so much.  Also, cooking for one pretty much sucks.

2011 has been the year of anxious, sad and lost Kelly.  Take me out of Houston, away from loved ones and familiar places, and I feel like I need to wear one of those “fragile” stickers on my forehead.  I finally understand why everyone who tries to leave Texas goes back.  It’s called Vitamin D3, baby.

After a recent mini-breakdown (yes, I like to exaggerate) I went home for a few days in utter desperation.  I was looking forward to seeing everyone, however I was very nervous.  Stupid me decided to be terrified that all of the shitty things I’d been feeling would be exponentially worse once I returned to Pittsburgh.  But if you can read between the lines you know that hasn’t been the case.  Look, I’m writing!

The time I spent with my family in Houston was so perfect that it surprised me.  We’re a rather loud, opinionated and oftentimes obnoxious bunch.  Naturally, we have had our ups and downs and issues with one another.  At some point in time we’ve all wanted to tell each and every person in the family to fuck off.  And some of us have.

I’ve known for awhile that the time apart from my family had been good in many ways.  It gave me time to forgive, the opportunity to realize how much we really are there for each other, and also the chance to miss them enough to want to be around them.  No joke.

What I didn’t realize was just how much they ground me.  Somehow being around them brought me back a little closer to myself.  And while I was so very sad to leave (uh, might have considered not getting on the plane), I returned to Pittsburgh feeling more positive than I have in a long, long time.

So … the point of this post is to remind everyone that you should not take your family and friends for granted.  I am angry at myself for not recognizing the full importance of each and every relationship I spent years, decades, a lifetime building.  Our friends and families are not just there to entertain us or to help pass the time.  Personally, they help to define who I am, they keep me in check, remind me that I haven’t always been a grumpy controlling bitch and they love me even when I go over-the-edge-batshit-crazy.  Well, maybe not during said batshit crazy episodes.  But at least they hang around long enough to still love me afterwards.

If you managed to make it this far the next paragraph is as “Spirit of Christmas” Pollyanna-preachy as you’ll ever get from me:

Happy Holidays!  If you are lucky enough to spend time with your loved ones, please cherish it and remind everyone how much you love them.  Even if your creepy Uncle hugs you just a little too long or stares at your cleavage.

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