It's like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife

May, which ends tonight, is Mental Health Awareness Month.

May, beautiful, flower-saturated, sunny May, is now the month during which I struggle most with my mental health.

I don’t think it’s ironic. I think it’s just an odd coincidence.

I’d never given much thought to irony before Alanis Morissette’s song “Ironic.”

And I’ve not referred to anything as ironic since.

The song was a huge hit. And then there was a lot of discussion around it. (Maybe not everywhere. I was studying linguistics at the time, and boy did we nerd out on all things language related.)

Was a black fly landing in your chardonnay ironic? No. It was a bummer. Was a death row pardon two minutes too late ironic? No, it was tragic.

As it turned out, most of the examples in her song weren’t ironic. Rather, they were unfortunate situations.

I liked her regardless. I still do.

But I haven’t referred to anything as ironic since then. Because what if I’m wrong?

For me, this goes in the same category as diagramming sentences. I was terrible at it. I’d freeze when asked to identify direct and indirect objects. What about the predicate? WTF?

I love words. I used to learn new languages quickly and easily. I was always a reader and a writer.

But when I had to sit down with the grammar? Cut things into pieces? Explain the rules?

Terrible.

Maybe because it felt too much like math?

In any case. I never call anything an isosceles triangle, and I don’t say anything is ironic.

Actually, what’s always stood out for me in “Ironic” is the way Alanis pronounces the word “figures.”

And who would've thought? It FIGGERS.

Figgers?

I say fig-yers.

I’d never heard anyone pronounce it “figgers” before. Or if I had, I hadn’t noticed. But it’s the kind of thing my brain likes to notice.

I assumed it was Canadian pronunciation, but then Nick came along, and he says figgers.

He grew up in the Northeast, so I figure (ha) it must be regional.

So I let him be, even though he still makes fun of me for how I say sauna. (Go ahead, first husband; I know I’m right.)

Actually, I hadn’t thought about Alanis in a while, but recently “You Oughta Know” was on the radio. I sang along. Then, because our phones know everything, up popped a tidbit about the cheating ex she referenced in the song.

I looked at the photo of the actor and was all, Uncle Joey?

Fuller House was India’s favorite show for quite some time.

Isn’t it ironic? Don’t you think?

Or is it a coincidence?

Just like my Violet Beauregarde outfit, the result of grabbing India’s sturdy backpack, putting on a sun hat, and not looking at myself in the mirror before walking to Trader Joe’s.

And you say, "How appropriate!"