I woke on 1 Jan, 2022 sad and tired. Confused. My heart felt heavy and I can't figure out why I cannot shift myself into happiness. I have enough. More than enough. I missed my babies. I want to smell their hair and kiss them. I feel rudderless. They'll be back tomorrow, I said to myself. We'll shake off this time apart and they'll bicker and irritate one another and probably me within minutes.
It's a new year, I'm told. Will this be a softer year? Kinder? 2021 was brutal, more than I allowed myself to admit. More than I wanted to try and fully comprehend.
I have so much to be grateful for I just can't seem to keep that gratitude in sight, imbed it deeply enough so that I KNOW it on a primal level. So, I feel it like I feel my bones, the happiness it brings.
How do I move to the next stage of my journey without tearing myself to shreds, twisting myself into knots? Why do I keep setting myself up for heartbreak, devastated by making the wrong choices, even when I KNOW I am making the wrong choices. Pathological much, Cher?
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