Two days ago I had what I like to call a “Unicorn Day.” Once in a blue moon, I’ll wake up feeling like myself. I was not going to waste the day; I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I devised a scheme to surprise Ella and Todd. I was going to decorate for Christmas.

From the moment I got home from dropping Ella off at school to the time she got home, I raced around the house as fast as I could to turn our house into a winter wonderland. I didn’t even waste time changing out of my pajamas. Mission (sort of) accomplished.

But here we are, two days later, and I feel like I’ve lost my holiday spirit. Our tree sits in its stand unlit; ornaments wrapped in their box. One Christmas card arrived today. Counting the one from my grandmother, that makes two.

Every Thanksgiving, I clear space for the smiling faces that’ll soon be arriving in my mailbox. I have a wall hanging from my aunt that’s dedicated to displaying Christmas cards and any other photos we get of people we care about throughout the year.

I’ve been generous with excuses for the empty mailbox. It’s still early. Maybe people don’t have our new address. Social media means people probably don’t send out as many cards as they used to… But as several have arrived for the former occupants of our home, the truth has set in. I have only myself to blame.

I used to be a much better friend. I used to write notes. I used to make phone calls. I was much better at showing people I cared. Now I need all that energy for survival. Chronic illness takes its toll in a zebra’s life. Here’s what it’s looked liked lately:

• Planning my whole day around making it to one Sunday service. Sitting in the back because sometimes it’s standing or singing and not both.
• Realizing those 15 minutes I spent at the park in the cold chatting with a mom from the PTA and watching my kids go sledding was too long. Spending the rest of the day in bed to help my muscles recover.
• Losing my temper at my daughter because I’m mad at my body and not really at her. Crying and apologizing. Repeating scenario with my husband when he gets home.
• Feeling incredibly thankful for not having to cancel another date night, but wondering how many months it’ll be before I’ll get to see the new friends we made from the neighborhood holiday drop-in.
• Calling the doctor because my brain fog has gotten so bad from the new medication that I’m wondering if I’m safe to be alone with my children.
• Telling Ella’s gymnastics coach right after Ella received an award that she can no longer be part of the class she loves because it’s too much. For me.

If life were a contest about who has it worse, there are many people who come to mind who could win that award hands down over me. I’m well aware of that. I’m choosing to look for joy where I can find it. Right now, it’s in the smiling faces on my kitchen wall. Hoping tomorrow’s mail might bring some more.