Well here we are again, writing during the day. Last night I took my therapist-assigned nap, then I couldn’t fall asleep until four in the morning. More than the napping, I think the reason I couldn’t sleep is because my body hasn’t gotten the memo that we’re doing things differently now, that there’s a new sheriff in town. This morning I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, partly because I’m tired, partly because I noticed last night that the body odor that I worked so hard to get rid of has returned. I’m assuming this is because of the medications I was on recently for my sinus infection, but I’m not a biologist. Either way, part of me thinks that I got this figured out once before and can do it again, and another part of me thinks, Oh, for fuck’s sake, I quit.

I woke up this morning to the sound of the phone ring-ring-ringing and the microwave beep-beep-beeping. As if that weren’t annoying enough, my parents’ phone actually announces, rather loudly, the number that’s calling. You have a call from 479-867-5309. Maybe it would be better if the announcer had an Australian accent. Better yet, I’d be more than happy to wake up to the sound of Morgan Freeman’s voice. He could read the phone book to me any day. As it is, today I woke up to the voice of a robot. (Not sexy.) Anyway, now the sun is shining, I’m drinking coffee, and Dad and I are talking about the hot gay guys on Days of Our Lives. (They’re weaving a tangled web.) Additionally, as I’m writing, the soundtrack to the musical Kinky Boots is playing in my ears. So I’m slowly–slowly–working my way out of my bad mood.

Life, it would appear, doesn’t completely suck.

Last week my therapist suggested I watch the television series The Deuce, starring the oh-so-handsome and sexually flexible James Franco, so last night I watched the first two episodes. To be clear, I don’t think my therapist recommended the show for mental health reasons, but rather for entertainment, relaxation, and visual stimulation (James Franco). For all these reasons, I thank her. Y’all, I was completely engrossed. The show is set in New York City in the seventies, and James plays a bartender who works with the mob and serves up a number of colorful hookers. Also, he plays his twin brother, a former baseball star who’s up to his neck in gambling debts. I can’t tell you how delightful this is. Honestly, it reminds me a lot of Hayley Mills in the The Parent Trap or Patty Duke in The Patty Duke Show. You know, except with pimps and prostitutes.

Recently I’ve been toying with the idea of lowing my standards of perfection. For example, for the last twenty years I’ve had it in my head that my ideal weight is 175. Never mind the fact that the only time I weigh that much is after a week-long stomach flu. Honestly, 180 is a better goal. Well, in the last month I’ve gone from 190 to a consistent 183. Since this isn’t my first diet and exercise rodeo, I know I could spend the next three months working on those three pounds, like really putting myself through hell. But as things stand, I’m thirty-seven years old, my stomach is flat, and I wear the same sized jeans I did when I was in high school, so why am I making such a big damn deal about this and everything like it?

Clearly I spend a lot of time working on “just a little bit more,” reaching for that thing that’s slightly out of reach. I’m not saying that I couldn’t lose another three pounds (I could), or that I can’t continue to write a thousand words a day (I can). But what would my life be like if I didn’t try so hard, if I recognized that I’ve already come a long way and that things are pretty great at 183 pounds and six-hundred words a day, give or take? Just the thought of that, of taking my foot off the throttle, is a relief. Phew, I can quit trying so hard and still get there, still be happy. I’m not saying I’m going to completely let myself go and start eating cheesecake for breakfast, but I am going to stop pushing so much and try to let life work itself out. It seems it always does, after all. Given enough time, answers come, healings happen, and even bad moods go away.