Merry Christmas Eve

It gets hard to hold the sarcasm when another punch to the gut reminds me that I have no control over many aspects of my future. I was a bit disappointed that I could not have Christmas with my family again this year. But at least I thought I would have tamales with my housemates. But a close contact just tested positive for covid, so now I’m quarantining to be safe. I don’t feel sick… But I do feel a little bit like crying. I have a hard time letting tears out, though. I’m not sure why, but when I’m extra sad I just feel a tightness in the core of my body. It feels like crying might let the pressure out, but I don’t know how to turn on the faucet. My plan was to return to China as soon as possible. I have a dream job lined up, friends there eager to collaborate, and the few remains of my sentimental belongings. But it might not be possible if I test positive. Plans are like leaves on a tree in Autumn. Some years are like coniferous trees and the plans remain comfortably in place. Other years, all of the plans are deciduous and fall to the ground in the winter wind, either beautifully red and yellow or crinkled, crunchy, and brown. 2020 is deciduous. It’s ridiculous. It’s reminding me that expectations lead to disappointment. The only thing I have control over is myself, my reactions, and my responses in each moment as it comes. When I attempt to look forward, it is hazy at best. Perhaps I am allowing myself to succumb to gloom, but reality is brutal. Outside circumstances are beyond my control. If I seek peace and joy outside of myself in the physical realm, I will be disappointed. My joy needs to come from within. I need to find my joy within. I believe I can find joy within.

Perhaps this is the universe waving a huge red flag. I often spend too long staring at closed doors, ignoring the open doors surrounding me.