That’s what my mom said last night on the phone to me, referring to me. It’s been a good January.
January is not always so good. I get down, a bit of self-diagnosed seasonal depression. You’d think living in Florida would alleviate it, and it’s definitely not as bad as a teenager growing up in Minnesota, but it doesn’t totally subside.
Last year was one of the worst January’s I’ve had in the past ten years. I kept ending up in bed with tears streaming down my face. Matt, trying to solve the problem, eventually said, “you want to get married this spring.” Well, actually, yes. You asked me to marry you and then didn’t want to set a date, no wonder my emotions were all over the place. But, let’s be honest, that wasn’t the “cause” of the issue. I wasn’t eating particularly right, I wasn’t exercising (I don’t know how I even did the ING Miami half Marathon last year), and in general, my head wasn’t in the game. This year, it was.
What I mean, is that I approached the beginning of the month fully aware of my issues from last year, determined to end the month without lying on the floor in tears. Exercising, yes. Eating right, yes. Soaking up the sunshine, yes.