No Words
This year, I’m avoiding a theme
The past few years, I’ve tried to have a theme for the year. I did this on my former blog as well. Create, connect, strength, patience.
This year, I am tired. Tired of planning, tired of trying to cast my mind to the future — even the near future — and use a word as my touchstone. I have my list of 23 goals, and that will have to suffice.
I didn’t even take the day off work today. My big treats are going to be an eyebrow wax and take out food. (I’m saving up PTO because we have two big trips this year.) If I’m lucky, one of the children will make me a pineapple upside-down cake.
I am truly grateful for each year and each birthday. Sure, my body will ache in new and different ways, and I may get more distracted/forgetful. But I am taking care of myself, finding my small joys in my daily life, and keeping my eyes focused on the horizon.
On good days, I feel the lifting of hope in myself — hope, the thing with feathers. As the new year rolled around, I was surprised by it. The last three months of 2022 put us through the wringer. And yet, as January 1 went on, I kept feeling it. A lightness, a brightness. Maybe it was the unlikely sunshine; maybe it was the anti-depressants. But it was a reminder that every day is a gift.
On the bad days, I have to look harder for joy, and sometimes just have to settle for finding some peace.
On the really bad days, I try to find the space to have a good cry, and watch some dumb TV. Everyone has really bad days.
So, here’s to my next, new year. I don’t know what it will bring, and I guess against all odds, I will hope for the best.
Or at least fewer really bad days.
