Which is a great relief to me, because the last quarter of 2014 was hard. Not crushing-my-spirit hard, but grinding. "I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread," as Bilbo Baggins put it, sometime around his one hundred and eleventieth birthday. Now, I'm nowhere near that old, but you'd never know it by the way mornings feel these days.
So, Twenty Fourteen, let's tally up a little. You were well behaved for the first nine months (and I thank you, don't think I don't appreciate it) but then you threw this at me:
- 1 smushed front bumper and 1 misaligned frame on the car
- 8 weeks of weekend-only husband, meaning 8 weeks of solo-parenting Sunday afternoon through Friday night - and he didn't get the permanent position
- 1 injured thumb, 5 stitches and 3 weeks healing time
- 1 thousand pantry moths
- 1 broken clothes dryer
- 1 more smushed bumper (same side) and 1 expensive garage door repair (thanks, winter ice. We'll reciprocate your love with a tonne of salt, next time!)
- 1 operation to repair nerve and tendon in thumb, resulting in x amount of stitches, 12 weeks healing time, 14 Occupational Therapy appointments, and 1 thumb and 1 wrist that have lost most of the mobility
- 1 insurance company that refused to pay for OT appointments
- 2 cats with fleas (How? They've never been outside!)
- 4 constantly runny noses (okay, now I'm nitpicking. But still....)
I'll forgive you though, because you balanced it out with a long visit with my dad, a lovely week at a cottage, S and our two amazing kids, and the love and support of a fantastic group of friends. So we'll call it even, okay?
And hello, Twenty Fifteen, you fresh-faced innocent! Come on in and let's have a look at you. We welcomed you with lots of good companionship and laughter and joy, but I have a feeling you might put me through the wringer a bit, too. So my promise to you, Twenty Fifteen, is to take better care of myself, both mentally and physically. That is going to mean less bad food and more good exercise. It's going to mean refusing to let the petty little tearer-downers into my headspace, especially at work. It's going to mean making some hard decisions about our future, and sticking to them. I don't expect a perfect year, or a prosperous one, but I hope it is a fulfilling one. I hope I can find my feet and lose my fear, love and be loved, support and be supported.
And I wish the same for all of you out there as well - May your year be fulfilling, replete with love and with clarity.
Happy New Year, everyone!
|Image courtesy of Liz Noffsinger at FreeDigitalPhotos.net|