In late November and early December last year, I started thinking about the things I would do in the new year.
I was going to journal, using The Book of Alchemy by Suleika Jaouad as a guide. I was going to prep more of my own and my child’s food. He and I were going to be less sedentary. I was going to use the craniosacral therapy tool I bought years ago. I was going to hand-code a new version of my website. I was going to blog more. I was going to make something most days. I was going to actually do all the online courses and seminars I have access to.
These weren’t resolutions, I told myself. They were just things I was going to do.
Then, on December 19, I had a cough. The cough turned into a respiratory illness that required me to sleep most of the day. I was better enough to see family on Christmas, but that was a long day and I overdid it. I relapsed. I was well enough by New Year’s Eve to take my kid and his friend to our local museum. I overdid it. I relapsed again. Four and five weeks after this illness started, I was still wiped out even more than usual. I still had a productive cough.
In the next week or two, I got better.
Then we had an ice storm. My kid was out of school for 3 days.
My mom had some medical stuff that seemed resolved.
The pipe in the library burst. (It was the ice storm in the library with the pipe.)
We had a snowstorm. My kid was out of school for 2 days.
My mom’s medical situation got worse again.
I was running myself ragged being an eldest daughter, trying to figure out the library situation, and trying to engage my kid anytime there wasn’t a friend around so he didn’t turn into a screen zombie.
I have not done the things. I’ve done a little of some of the things, but they’ve all fallen off.
I like to let myself celebrate New Year’s multiple times: on January 1. On the spring equinox. On my birthday, in July. At the start of the new school year. At Rosh Hashanah.
And between those, I like to think about the next one coming up, to reflect on what I want to do differently.
Right now, ahead of the spring equinox, still in the middle of the library restoration process, living with chronic illness, I’m thinking I want to learn to be flexible. To hold intentions but be ready to adjust when unexpected things happen.
To learn to cope.