How Valentine's Day Got My Groove Back

I have been feeling decidedly drifty the last couple of weeks. This driftiness has manifested in all sorts of ways: simple errands not getting done even though I write them in my planner day after day, hours going by that I seem to miss entirely, cleaning going by the wayside (a big thing for me, as I’m a bit of a neat freak), even this blog being neglected.

Upon reflection, I can come up with at least a partial picture of why this has happened. First, there are several key decisions that need to be made in various areas of my life in order for me to begin moving on. Unfortunately, all those decisions are in other peoples’ hands now, as I have done everything I can on my end, and there is a lot of waiting happening. Second, I am tentatively beginning to feel as if I am over the absolute worst of the effects of my life-turned-disaster. It has been roughly five months since my world fell apart in a short 24 hours, and in those five months I have wrangled myself through hell and am beginning to see the light. Someone who has a knack for analogy gave me a particularly apt one:

It’s like I’m halfway across a desert. When I began my trek, five months ago, I was unsure that I would survive. I didn’t know if there would be food, or water, or any of the things I would need to make it to the other side. Nevertheless, having no other choice, I took my first steps and began my journey. Now, I am smack in the middle. I have found reliable sources of food and water, and I am more certain each day of my eventual success in crossing the desert. However, knowing that there is, in fact, an end is not the same as being able to see the end. I have come too far to turn back, so my only option remains forward movement. I know there will come a day when I take my final steps off the hot sand and into greener country, but that knowledge only lessens the frustrations—it certainly doesn’t get rid of them completely, and there are still days when I just find a cave and wait out the day, unwilling to travel any further for awhile.

Poetic, no?

However, I found a driftiness remedy in the most unlikely of places: Valentine’s Day. This was, as far as I was concerned, yet another holiday to drag through for the first time since everything happened. I was considering, especially given my recent mood, a long bout of wallowing followed by gazing with glassy eyes at the TV until the clock hit midnight and I could breathe a sigh of relief that the damn day was finally over.

But, in case you haven’t yet gathered, that’s not really my style. Why, I asked myself, should I be forced to hide from this day? It’s a day about love. Sure, it’s more about romantic love than anything else I suppose, but how many people every year loathe this day for that very reason? Screw romantic love’s exclusive rights on February 14. It’s likely that I won’t be applying that particular connotation to Valentine’s Day again for quite some time, but I saw no need to miss out because of a cruel twist of fate. So, I plotted to make this day about different kinds of love, instead.

Yesterday, I bought myself flowers. Not a Valentine’s Day bouquet (truth be told, I don’t even like roses), but one I made myself of beautiful yellow carnations (my favorite flower) with fiery orange petal tips and irises (a flower in my favorite color). Everything about these flowers is positively cheery, and they make me smile every time I glance over at them in my favorite vase. I also bought myself a bag of Reese’s peanut butter cups (one of my favorite candies) and placed them in the fridge (because they’re always better cold) in preparation for today. Finally, I returned an email I’d gotten from the shelter I adopted my cats from, saying that I would be happy to volunteer at their adoption event on Valentine’s Day.

Fast-forward to today. I woke up and drove to the shelter, wrangled a couple of canines into my SUV, and hauled them to the local PetSmart where I and two other volunteers spent the day trying to convince people to adopt a dog. I was at it from 9:30 to 3:30, and we did in fact manage to get one of the four dogs with us adopted on top of drumming up a lot of interest for the shelter. This was me, celebrating love: the love of the other living things I share this planet with. I felt good about getting a puppy a new home, spent the day with some wonderful animals, and found a couple of new friends in my fellow volunteers.

Volunteering complete, I came home and indulged in some spa products I received for Christmas. Then I got dressed up, took myself out for sushi, and went to see a movie (Wolfman, which can in no way be construed as a romantic flick). Finally, I returned home tonight, pulled out those delectable Reese’s, and happily munched away on my dessert while watching the Olympics. All this was me, celebrating love: the love and respect I have for myself, for what I’ve been through, and for recognizing that I deserve to be taken care of—even if I’m the one doing the caring right now.

So, I am chalking this day up in the WIN column. It could have been misery of epic proportions. It wasn’t. Would it have been nice to have someone to share it with? Of course, especially since until this year I have always has someone to share the day with. Still, it was a truly lovely holiday, one that left me satisfied and tired at the end, one where I did not wallow even a tiny bit, one where I finally rose above the lethargy that has had me in its grip for the last two weeks.

Lesson of the Day: The day is what you make of it!