Rising above the suck

I really hate January.  I've always disliked this time of year, but the majority of my scorn is directed at the specific month of January.  Call it post-holiday depression, seasonal affective disorder (with which I fully believe I'm afflicted), or the crushing expectations of a new year, the month of January always makes me cringe.  College really cemented my disregard for this month - saying goodbye again to long-distance boyfriends and family, break-ups, soul-crushingly awful weather in Boston.  And even after college, January was generally the month I left Ben from my brief visits to France to return to the slightly less soul-crushing dimness of D.C.

January is the month when we all feel we must start anew.  The culmination of the previous year's efforts are capped at December 31, 11:59 pm.  You achieved so much last year!  But here comes another one, get started, kid.  I don't mean to sound so fatalistic, as every minute, day, year we have of life is precious, but this stupid month makes me wallow in the self-pitying morass of blarghhhhh.

Yet this January is very, very different for me.  Suddenly, I don't have to say goodbye to boyfriend.  I'm not dreading going back to school/work/monotonous routine.  I get to stay in France - I even had my visa validated today (at LONG last).  Still, this uneasy feeling of yuck remains as an icy coating to my soul.  At the end of vacation, I told Ben how much I hate January.  He gave me a stern pep talk, as he's wont to do.  I always forget that men like to solve things, whereas women will give unending sympathy.  But, as usual, his reaction was just what I needed.  In essence, "Stop whining.  This month will only be what you make of it.  Stop feeling sorry for yourself and start accomplishing!"  If I were still a little kid, I would have made a face and stuck out my tongue at him (there's no guarantee I didn't actually do that...).  But since I'm an adult now, I'm doing the adult thing and heeding the good advice.

As the days of this grudgingly ok month progress, I'm realizing the source of the uniquely 2015 stress.  Living abroad makes me feel like I.  SUCK.  AT.  EVERYTHING.  The combination of my historical feelings this time of year and the aforementioned suckage have produced quite the slippery slope to the Land of Sourpuss, but this year I'm jumping off the ride early.  I refuse to be defeated this January.  I'm not going to be biffles with this month, but I'll be cordial.  There is something to be said for the efficacy of resolutions, though I don't prescribe much to the now-or-never, do-or-die mentality.  It often seems to me that people forget that resolutions can be made at other times of year.  But of course there's something about the cutoff and renewal that makes us re-evaluate our goals and ourselves.  Here's another 365-day chance to make something of yourself, and please begin this daunting journey in the coldest, darkest, most miserable month of the year.  Hah!  Joke's on you!  Challenge accepted!

I digress and return to my previous point.  The theory of I Suck.  As has been previously documented, I quit my entire life, sold a good portion of my belongs, and sunk all my hard-earned money into a tenuous life in a foreign country.  All of the skills and qualities I possessed in America feel rarely used here.  I'm no longer earning an enviable salary (at least for a 25-year-old with a music degree), I'm decidedly not independent, and I can't even walk out my front door without the fear that one of the natives is going make me feel like an idiot with all their native babble (otherwise known as French).  While I feel extremely lucky to have found a job, and I would never deliberately demean those who do similarly, it feels as though I'm working under my ability as a babysitter.  I have immense plans for next year, but those plans hinge on dusting off a skill I haven't used in a few years, and that's terrifying enough in and of itself.  Top it off with a dash of self-diagnosed inferiority complex, and we have the perfect recipe for Emily Sucks at Everything soup.  Yum.

Again, I confessed all this to Ben, and his reaction was unsurprisingly similar to his previous advice.  Babysitting isn't my profession.  But the kids I babysit are adorable, smart, and fun.  The family is so kind, and my agency is super helpful.  It's steady, declared, legal work.  I have most of the day to myself before I start working.  The kids are even old enough to help me with my French... though not until they've had a good giggle at my mistakes.  This isn't my whole life, it's just a helpful boost up in the ladder I'm climbing towards a self-actualized Emily in France.  My free days allow me to practice and blissfully exercise a part of my brain I've let atrophy a bit since college.  I have time to run and go to the gym once I finally join.

So this year I'm not going let January ruin my happiness.  2014 was pretty good as far as accomplishments go, but I'm starting 2015 on an entirely new planet away from my 2014 comfort zone.  Besides, any year I ring in by constructing a puzzle of my Aunt Ro's delicious Christmas cookies is destined to be a good year.