Some time this morning (whilst my kiddo was no doubt playing with one of her awesome new My Little Pony toys), my wife looked at me and said, "I'm so glad you're in a much better place than this time last year."
This took me aback a little. "Was I in a bad mood last Christmas?" I honestly couldn't remember.
"All I can remember is that you seemed to be mad at me."
This took a moment's contemplation before it hit me. "Ah. It must've been the gout, followed by the kidney stones, which all meant I was behind for months, panicking."
"Well, that's not the only thing. Getting your meds adjusted and therapy. But I think it was mostly getting your meds fixed."
She's not wrong. There have been plenty of complications. I wasn't expecting to have my Buick explode...but it did, and the car payment and the insurance bump are just unavoidable realities. I was expecting my music career to go better, and it was for a while...but then my solo band broke up, my alt-country band has pretty much ground to a halt, and my full schedule blew up for reasons which are still unclear.
Yet in spite of these, I persevere and actually do okay...for the most part. And I have even have optimism for the forthcoming year (upcoming classes in poetry instead of only "welcome to college" classes, a cover band which should also morph into a backing band, and another album in progress and coming along nicely). I feel it would be unwise to dwell on such things, though. Better to manage expectations.
Survival is a laudable goal, no?