I know I typically write this on the first day of the year, but I wasn’t feeling it yesterday. I knew my new word for maybe a week already, but it was just… not the right time to write.
Recapping 2020, aka, the year from hell in a handbasket… my word was “Revive”. I don’t know what I was expecting, exactly, but I know that I felt nearly dead inside. Not really knowing what to do or who I was. I needed healing and rebirth and in a way, 2020 gave that to me. The social solitude was good in some ways to help me reflect on what is important, to test who and what I want in my life. I know many others had similar thoughts and feelings and the world doesn’t need another blog post about all that.
So here I am at a new year. And I know that I don’t even know myself. Chris said my name yesterday and I swear I feel no connection to it… maybe just because I haven’t heard it said in so long? Who knows. I think back on my memories (which are limited because I have a shit memory) and it’s like there’s a person back there that I don’t know anymore.
There’s things in my life I’m proud of, there’s things I wish I had done. There’s a person I want to be that needs to meld and grow with whoever I am now. So that’s where I am looking forward. But it all just scares the shit out of me. My normal level of anxiety is extra (thanks Covid!), but it’s always been a challenge for me to really push myself. My therapist pointed out the enneagram to me last year and I dove into a lot of introspection on myself and my fears and I’m so much a 7. I fear pain and suffering and challenges. I want fun and easy and enjoyable and to just grow without growing pains. Which is why this year my word is:
Courage.
Oh dear 