A little holiday fringe to distract you from all the other things on your list. If you are not familiar with what is called lucid dreaming, here is an introduction. I am not the least offended if you find this unlikely at best and deranged, delusional at worst. As a friend once said, "Time is long and space is big." There is room for more than we can ever imagine in the multiple universes of the cosmos.
In what I will call a lucid dream night before last, I found my ideal self: young enough to be entirely mobile, without depression or depletion, possessing a certain appeal and knowing everything that I know now. She exists somewhere as the continuum flexes, hidden in a sharp crease of the cosmic fabric. I marvel at the way in which our minds can bring along misery and its twin handmaidens, cortisol and adrenalin, or allow us to appear in fully realized fantasies, knowing we are dreaming, yet gamely playing along to see how it all turns out. I picture my mind cooking up a treat on its little hotplate, using its one well-seasoned, cast iron skillet and holding it out for approval, like Ratso Rizzo saying, "G'head. I want you to have it."
Dylan says it, "The human mind can only stand so much." For escape, even illumination. We dream.
Keep moving, even just to shift your shadow. Keep singing along. Stay out of places that steal your spirit and know there are rooms where you dance and laugh and know it will all, somehow, be all right.