Thanksgiving was two days ago, and I’m sitting here on a Saturday night feeling grumpy, out of sorts and snappish. As the season of peace, love and good will kicks off, I’m feeling more inclined to stomp around and feel sorry for myself. In all honesty, stomping around would take much more energy than I even want to expend — I’d much rather sit slumped on the sofa, brooding.

The fact that almost every radio station is now playing holiday music 24/7 isn’t helping. Somehow in the past several years, I’ve become highly susceptible to blatant displays of emotion when hearing a majority of Christmas songs. Translation: I completely lose my shit and become a hot mess of tears.

Awesome.

So, yes… while everyone’s all “peace & joy,” I’m over here all “could you just not?”

The catalysts of this funk in which I find myself aren’t as important as my reactions. I can’t control the events around me, but I sure thought I had a better handle on my responses. I can talk big about having faith that things happen for a reason, when things are going my way. When it seems like the odds are stacked against me, for whatever reason, my faith crumbles. This is a problem. When you factor “wavering faith” into the other factors in this equation, it sets up a perfect storm: a + b + c = nothing good can come of this.

I decided tonight, post-pity party, that the thing I want most for Christmas (besides, maybe, a new pair of running shoes) is a restoration of faith in … well, just about everything. As I put together lists of errands and things to do for other people, I’m going to do something for myself as well:  rebuild my faith. And, if all goes as I hope, I’ll find true peace & joy. There has been so much to be unsettled about lately, I’m probably not the only one who feels like the ground is slipping out from under their feet, am I right? The best I, or anyone else, can do is just start shoring up our foundations, getting back to solid ground. I think occasionally stumbling in one’s faith offers a chance for building up and strengthening our relationship with God, so that’s what I’m going to do. After a good, solid cry to release all the pent-up stress and frustration, I’ll pick myself up and start building faith again. Maybe then I won’t feel so “out of season,” with a preference for brooding on the sofa or snapping at people.

I’m still going to cry at Christmas music though.

“We are all broken, that’s how the light gets in.” — Ernest Hemingway