Here I am, January 1st at 8:53pm, procrastinating.
Today has looked different from the New Years Days past, mostly because Luke & I spent the vast majority of the day driving home from the loveliest of visits with our friends & their kids, and by the time we got home we were wiped wiped wiped (yes, 3 wipes are entirely accurate and necessary). I gave myself time to sit on the couch, read the paper, watch Bob’s Burgers (which always solicits audible “Yay!”s from me….I need to pay attention to what else solicits audible “Yay!”s….), eat some delivery, and then….there it loomed…
My tradition. My sacred time. My….procrastination?
I answered emails. I went on Facebook. I read my blog comments. All the while asking myself why I was avoiding it.
The fact of the matter is: I don’t wanna face it. I think it’s gonna upset me, which seems ridiculous because if I wrote one for last year – a mere 6 weeks after being diagnosed with boob cancer, and going into what I knew would be, oh, just the worst year ever pretty much – what the heck is stopping me now? Luke and I joked around that 2013 is going to be a good year because the bar is set really low, and it’s funny because it’s true. But because I’m really quick now to not say “I’m done with my surgeries!” or “It’s all behind me!” – and because of some other, more personal stuff I’m not ready yet to talk about here – I don’t think 2013 is going to be “easy.” I still feel the fighter in me, and she thinks she’s gonna still need to carry those gloves around with her wherever she goes.
Also? Staying true to my 2013 word, and being so, so committed this year in really and truly learning the lesson that busy does not equal successful, the thought of writing down all that happens to me in 2013 seems to play into that. I mean, even my 2012 By The Month post…I don’t want to have to see all my “accomplishments” or all I’ve went through to breathe easier and cut myself some slack. I mean, it’s ridiculous. I know I do enough, I know I am enough, I know I’ll get to where I yearn to be on a professional and monetary level…but in the intention to allow myself to be, the Dear Future Me letter seems to not be what I want to honor this year.
My birthday is January 14th and I’ll be in Jamaica on vacation then, and I have a feeling that the letter might come to me organically then, an intention, a playful exercise, the sacred space and time I’m used to it giving me. But until then, I’m holding off. It’s not where I’m at now or where I want to be, and I’ll no longer play into either of those things.
I’m feeling myself changing.