End of the Year

I haven’t written anything in a long while. No blog posts or poems or attempts at stories. Nothing.

I tried to write a really important post about a huge thing that happened but I couldn’t do it justice. I still can’t. So for now I’m going to take the easy way out and not write about it. Maybe one day I will work out how to form the sentences but for now I’m going to start and gently write about something else to see if I can push the writing door ajar.

It’s always tempting at the end of a year to say it was awful, or fantastic, and to hope that the next year will be better in some way. But every year it seems to me has so many ups, downs and boring (or reliable) stay at the same level bits it’s pointless. 2022 for us meant loss, success, sadness, illness, adventure, love, joy, frustration and at points downright boredom. No magic happens that means the next year will be anything other than a combination of the above. And with the Tories still in charge things are likely to get worse not better. You couldn’t have imagined the way things are at the moment – the pandemic and it’s ongoing effects, the war in the Ukraine, the cost of living crisis, the mass u-turn on the positive steps for the climate and community spirit from 2020. So there’s no point planning really just keep on keepoing on and try and think about each other a bit while you’re doing it.

And yet still I sit here wondering what I can change to make things better. Here I go seeking out a blank notebook to start on a clean page, the same as every year. There’s me trying for a clean home and an empty washbasket for January 1st. There’s me considering Davina’s app again. It’s so predictable.

I honestly think it’s just the break from work and school that causes this naval gazing. We rarely have time to think in everyday life because we are too busy trying to get to the end of the week. And of course it’s not a bad thing to think about what you want. We should all do that. Just don’t go setting goals perhaps – maybe instead just think ‘how do I fit in doing something else that makes me happy?’ or ‘what small thing might make me a bit healthier?’. I’m going to try that in 2023.

I’m not going to join a gym, or run a marathon. I won’t be learning Mandarin or doing a bungee jump. I’ll be spending time with people I love and that love me, and not all of that time will be watching movies. I’ll be moving my body so I’m healthier and make less moaning noises when I get up from the floor. I’ll be going outside a bit more – not today thought it’s chucking it down.

There’s still time for me to think while I watch the Christmas repair shop and bemoan never having become an artisan furniture maker. I’ll think a bit more and have a mince pie. Then I’ll do pretty much the same as usual in 2023, which really isn’t so bad.

Sending love your way every day, not just with the start of a new year.

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