At the end of 2011, I sat, numb, trying to recap the year, trying to find the silver lining in all the challenges we felt. That I managed to do so is a clear testimony to my eternal Pollyanna attitude towards life.
I had such hopes for 2012. I thought that for sure, after such a bad year, that we were owed a great one to make up for it all.
I’m not a baby. I should know better than to think it works like that.
And to be fair, 2012 didn’t carry with it the mega challenges that 2011 enjoyed throwing at us every time we turned around. It really was a good year.
We bought a new house.
The kids started a great new school.
We made new friends.
We enjoyed relatively good health (relative being the operative word here…).
I think it’s just that I expected that I could bounce back from everything and be fine. That everything would go back to being easy.
Turns out 2012 was the year of… recovery… I guess. The year where there were no more battles to be fought, no more crises to be managed. The year when, instead, I could go about fixing things for real instead of patching them up and moving on to deal with the next emergent situation.
Healing is hard work, yo.
Recovering is hard too.
I spent much of 2012 in a fog, just trying to get through the weeks, through the days.
My hope for 2013 is that this is the year I’ll regain some focus. The year where I’ll stop being afraid that if I do try to regain control the rug won’t be ripped out from under my feet again.
I have big plans and hopes for 2013, so here’s hoping that 2013 chooses to cooperate.