I tell myself that today is new day in a new calendar year and that I'll write every day: here, on paper, on a novel, something. I tell myself that I'll do it because it's important, but I don't know that that is altogether true. I want to believe it's true. I want to promise myself that I'll write daily and mean it
But I have so much on my plate.
But I have so much to do.
But there isn't enough time.
I'm a butt full of excuses and buts. I'm tired. I'm still struggling with PPD and, now APD while pregnant. It's not awful. It's manageable. But it's still a darkness just waiting to be invited back in. Somedays I worry it doesn't actually need an invitation, but I tell myself it does, just to feel a bit stronger. I'm not just tired, I'm exhausted: mentally, physically, spiritually. This pregnancy, my kids, everything- they are kicking my ass. I'm swimming with my head above water, but it's not pretty most times.
I find that I have less patience and I yell more. I lose my cool more. I have way less cool to lose. Peter and I don't really talk like we used to. There's simply not time and, when we steal it from somewhere, I find that the words I want to say (that I need to say) are elusive.
But it's a new year. A time to start anew. To burn the old in the Solstice bonfire and to believe in the hopes and dreams of a new year. And I want to- I really do. I want to feel like I can make a plan and make it happen. That I can find the energy and the will and the time. That damn time that seems to slip away.
So instead of saying that I'll come back to this space every day, I'll just say that I'm going to try. I'm going to try to make time to find myself again... Hopefully, that journey leads me to this space. :)
Happy New Year to you and yours. May 2017 be a year of goodness and light.