Lent, you bastard, you creep up on me every year.
A truly small number of my friends are Catholic, but that has yet to stop many folks I know partaking in Lent. Including myself.
This year, I attempt to give up beating myself up with my own perceived failures. It’s a guilty pleasure, like chewing on an already bloody lip or scratching at a fresh friction burn, and I’m reluctant to try to kick it because it just feels so good to let my brain go all out in total emotional destruction on everything that’s wrong with me.
Lent’s about the really unpleasantly hard things to give up, though.