I will start by saying that 2019 is not off to the greatest start.
I have been experiencing fatigue, headaches, brain fog, and a feeling of being removed from environs and companions. I really noticed on New Year's Eve at Ralf and Jim's dinner party--I was having trouble staying alert and in-tune to the conversation. I felt like I was overhearing conversations from another room, only vaguely aware of what was being said and not contributing.
This general malaise has thus far informed my energy level all year. I really can't wait to get home from work to do absolutely nothing but dim the lights, pet my cat, read some magazines, eat some dinner, watch some escapism television, and read in bed. I manage to get exercise everyday, but it's a chore. I manage to eat fairly healthy foods while avoiding cravings. I still love weekends, but only because it means I don't have to get up at a set time and drive to work. I don't necessarily mind work once I'm there. I've managed to complete some projects in the house--updating a guest bath and painting a guest room as well as helped Larry with a major project in his home. I've made doctor's appointments and paid some annual bills. I am not a sloth.
Nevertheless, here I am, feeling a bit rudderless 23 days into the new year, a time which has traditionally felt full of promise. In the past five years or so, I have really loved the month of January, a month most people despise more than any other. I liked having the whole year ahead of me and my optimism at an all-time high. I liked going to bed dreaming of being tucked into a cozy winter cabin with just some paper, pens, books, cats, dogs, candles, and boots. See that right there...that put a smile on my face--therefore, that silly sentence was worth writing.
But this year is different. I have not been able to write one page, one paragraph, one sentence, one word, one mark in my new journal. Afraid I'll say the wrong thing? Nothing to say? Too much to say? Too much of nothing?
I said goodbye to 2018 by writing out some favorite moments and revisiting photos, and what a great year it turned out to be (for me, not for my pathetic country whose antiquated system put a racist, populist, demagogue at the helm of a ship that had just turned itself around). I had no idea of the awesome adventures that awaited me when I said hello to 2018. I had no idea that I'd live with Larry for a couple of months while we were in a play together. I had no idea that my boss would have me pilot some key projects and then I'd do so well. I had no idea we'd have a wonderful long weekend in a cabin the Smoky Mountains. I had no idea I'd have my best year yet in my hospitality business. I had no idea that we'd travel around nine national parks in a campervan for three weeks. I had no idea that we'd end the year at an ecoresort in Mexico. I had no idea that I'd sock away over $45,000 to pay off my mortgage. I had no idea that I'd be so sad when Christmas was over, even though I did very little to actually celebrate it. I am largely responsible for how my year (and life) goes. I need to acknowledge that I'm feeling feeling languid and stolid and then either stop feeling that way or stop worrying about feeling that way knowing that this too shall pass.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained, so here it goes.
2019 here are my wishes.
I want to start a bird sanctuary in my back yard.
I want to start a rose / tea garden in my back yard, enclosed in a reclaimed white picket fence.
I want to start an English Cottage garden in my front yard.
I want a vegetable garden next to my tea garden.
I want to travel:
- Long weekend somewhere pretty, such as Sleeping Bear or North Carolina.
- Camping/hiking in Oregon in September in a Campervan or Jucy.
- Resorting somewhere with adults only in the Caribbean in December.
- Christmas at Natalie's???
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