It’s been a good weekend.
I broke down in tears at one point (totally my fault, broke a lovely tea cup that I’d only been gifted the day before), but it was still good. Much better than I hoped it could have been given my mood in the week leading up to it.
It wasn’t good.
Even though for the most part, I feel good at the moment. Really good. I’m not worn out all the time (thanks for that iron supplement!) and my anxiety has been pretty much in control for the last few months. Mentally and physically I’m doing better.
Still I sometimes forget that even though I might feel better generally, I also have periods where I’m not going to feel better and that feeling like that is ok too. This week it was the passage of another year of my life and I’m at this stage, where I feel sad that I haven’t achieved as much as I would have liked. I feel like you, perenially yearning for the Akutagawa prize.
The worst part is, when failing to meet your own expectations, you don’t have anyone to blame apart from yourself. You set the line, and even should things happen outside your control, there’s an assumption that it shouldn’t matter because you knew what was reasonable.
Perhaps that’s the issue, assuming any of us are reasonable.
Still, I’m in a fantastic mood today, having had dinner with friends, and having had parents come and visit. Kittens to play with. Good food. Good tea. It’s been a good weekend, and the reminder I needed to see exactly how good things are.
Even when they aren’t what I expect.