Holidazed and Coping with Infertility (and Everything Else)
A dear friend and colleague brought this word to my attention last week.
That was last week.
Because now there really is a before and after.
Last Thursday was only a week ago. But now it's before. And it feels like a year ago. A lifetime ago.
And just think, that word surfaced then. Before. Now it's even harder to focus on the holidays.
What does holidaze mean?
I'd like to think, in the best possible way, that it means to dazzle. That's the optimist in me. Dazzled by the lights, which I love. Dazzled by the music, which I love, even after hearing songs dozens and dozens of times. Dazzled by the beautiful colors of wrapping paper. Which, yes, I love.
Not too sure that was what was meant by the word though. In fact, I'm pretty sure that holidazed means just what it sounds like. Dazed. Glassy-eyed. Overdone. Spent.
A lot of us know what that feels like. And with infertility, it's worse. We start the season off, holidazed. Another season with no good news, no pregnancy, no baby in arms.
Holidazed. Stunned. Dazed. Done. Overdone. Spent.
We need to find a way to regroup. All of us. When bad news and sorrow seem to surround and overwhelm us, we need to look at the smaller, simpler things.
Ok, maybe you don't. I do.
Ways to Regroup During Holiday Stress
I feel my breath. I don't just remind you to do it. I do it. I breathe. I appreciate the breath I take in. I enjoy it as if it were something lovely to savor. Because it is.
I look up at the sky. Revel in the several thousand shades of grey. The sun bravely peeking through. The stars, millions of miles away.
Small things. Simple things.
That's the way I fight against holidaze.
I enjoy my body. Which is not perfect. Not by a long shot. How amazing it is that when I want to get up and move, everything that needs to happen, does. Like a miracle. Small things, all in the proper sequence, have to happen to get up and move. My body may have more or less flesh on it than I would like; may be more or less toned than I would like; may have more or less systems that work perfectly than I would like and yet...
It all works well enough for me to get up and move when I want to.
A small miracle.
Unless you can't.
Find the miracles in the small things. The things that you do have. The breaths you are able to take.
Getting up and moving.
Perfect antidote to holidazed?
Appreciate the miracles in this moment.