When I am having a bad day, I am really not a nice person.

I am easily irritated, grumpy, controlling and, I’m sure, give off an energy of “touch me at your own risk”.

As I learn to not numb out using my addictive substance of choice (food), I am also slowly learning to recognize this about myself and try to “head it off at the pass”. With reaching out to friends, going for a walk, journalling. It certainly has given me some compassion for other grumpy people and for times when others might be just having a bad day.

If it gets really bad, I usually stay home and out of the world. It’s a hard line to balance against isolating myself vs. realizing that it’s okay to tell the world to f**k off. But, better the figurative third finger from home than that actual one, I suppose.

Yesterday was such a day. It was bad. I just wanted to curl up on the couch and repeat “I am enough” until my head somehow convinced my heart. To give up on trying to fake wind in my sails and just accept the becalmed, grey fog and trust that it would pass.

Thing is, this weekend is one of my favourite of the year. I have a group of wonderful women friends and we get together for the whole weekend and make chocolates for holiday gift-giving. A lot of chocolates. Usually about 3500 over the weekend.

This group of women in my life is a gift beyond compare. We range in age from our 30s to our 70s. We are married, divorced and single. Some are childless and some have grown kids, teenagers and toddlers. In less that a dozen women, we are the full range of life.

And, the opportunity to share our stories, to learn from the collective life experience of these women who walk their paths with such courage, to share the workload together, to look after each other (more tea, anyone?!) and to support and encourage each other makes me feel incredibly lucky.

So, off I went, hoping I could keep a curb on my irritability and “don’t touch” attitude, and saying a small prayer that my heart could be open to the love and hugs.

I’m not sure how I did. But, as we were wrapping the cherries with fondant to get them ready to be dipped in dark chocolate, we found this little guy. Still with his leaf attached even after a whole year of soaking in brandy.

Somehow, the hope and optimism in that cherry and leaf partnership lifted my spirits. We shared a laugh and marveled at the leaf, keen to see if survives the dipping process.

Hope is such a precious thing. I am grateful for these women in my life, who give me hope that things will be okay. Who help me refill my sails, even when I’m a grumpy chocolatier.