I’ve been thinking a lot about my 2015 goals, but haven’t committed anything to paper yet. The husband and I will be doing that this coming week, I think. Every year brings a promise of new and exciting things, a chance for improvement. This year will be no different of course. Lots of changes, lots of progressing, lots of regressing, lots of mistakes and messes.
I’ve been slowly going through Joan Didion’s We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live. It’s weirdly perfect for the mood I’ve been in lately. Between that and Anna Kendrick’s first few lines of “Still Hurting” in the trailer of The Last Five Years, I wonder how I can pour more of those feelings into the new year. The quiet moments of truth. The bareness. The feelings that feel so universal it expands from those hidden spaces into something sprawling. Something sweeping and powerful. And sure.
After a week of feeling angry and helpless and sad at everything that is going on in the world, after the meanness I’ve been feeling for strangers on the train, co-workers, basically most everyone that have had the misfortune of being in my sphere, after feeling sorry for myself for longer than I should have, I decided to stop. Or pause, at least.
I thought about the I world live in. I thought how small I’ve made it. I don’t ever mind that it’s small. I choose my words. I try to be sincere. I love the people that I love. I pretend that I don’t see when life is unfair or random or mean. I don’t always have to pretend. I see moments of kindness. I see imperfect people trying to do their best. I see how much more difficult I could have it. I see that I don’t always have to be afraid.
Christmas is coming up so fast and I feel like I’m finally starting to catch my breath.