I had big hopes coming into 2020… I think all of us did to some extent. A new year, a fresh start, new goals to push towards. Then a monkey got thrown into our wrench and everything went to hell! I’m an ‘essential’ worker, but not any of the good ones, like nurse or doctor, I’m in RETAIL. So my ambient stress levels, which are normally high due to me being an introvert in what is essentially an extroverted job, went through the roof!
My goals of finishing Tabeth book 2, working out the ending to my sci-fi story, and writing something every day (even if its just one sentence) went POOF! And here we are at the end of this godawful year and I’ve got next to nothing written AT ALL. I’m very disappointed with myself…
I know I’m not the only one, quite a few writers and other artistic people have confessed that they haven’t been dealing with all the bs constructively either. While the stories of artists using their quarantine time to good effects are out there, there are quite a lot of stories about depression/anxiety shutdowns as well. The term “self-care” has grown to mean so much more this year. Stepping away from social media, doing little things to make yourself feel better, and posting/doing things that uplift yourself and others have been necessary this year, instead of feeling indulgent or ‘sappy’.
So here I am going into another new year. And I’m going to try Rumi, I really am! Try to forgive myself for this year’s failings. Try to reset my goals without the shame of not finishing them last time. Try to let those dead leaves DROP.
With any luck this years shit pile will decay into some FABULOUS fertilizer!