I am dancing a jig of joy that 2013 is about to slide into history.
I know, I know – I’m not supposed to wish my life away…I should count my blessings…live in the moment…appreciate what I have. And much of the time, I do.
I realize that we may be meeting for the first time, but may I be, just for a moment, brutally honest?
Sometimes, living in the moment is just too painful.
I don’t know what your daily life encapsulates…yet. Maybe you are one of those amazing people that have it all together. Perfect marriage, perfect children, perfect house, perfect body, perfect job, perfect pet. (Or no pet at all to maintain the perfect house!)
Me? I’m quite far from the list.
My office currently looks as if a bomb went off, scattering art supplies, coupons and crayons to the nether regions of the planet. I can clean it, but I think a suicidal fairy stuck in Groundhog Day comes in every night and recreates the scene.
Two baskets of clean laundry cover my bed. Five cats cover the laundry. What you might think is a sixth cat is just a hair ball. Hm…I think…
I need to lose 15 pounds, and exercise has only been a glimmer in my eye since fall set in with a vengeance and it began snowing every other day…in October.
This morning’s wrestling match with my daughter – diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) and Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD) this year, yay 2013! – was over choosing a shirt. It took her nearly an hour, pulling out numerous shirts and throwing them on the floor after pronouncing them unfit. I had to walk away not to scream. It will be one of many instances today where I need to do so.
My daughter’s health concerns have forced – or allowed? – me to pull away socially. I rarely entertained this year. Who wants to clean and cook when you’re going to the mat with a 5-year-old child who can undo the cleaning immediately, and who may have an unexplained meltdown in front of people that don’t understand her special needs or understand your angst over them?
At some point, I will check in with my elderly mother who has hearing difficulties; our chats are usually filled with constant misunderstandings and frustration, on both sides. She refuses to stay with me or my siblings, and she lives far enough away that I cannot get to her quickly should she need help. My visit every three weeks is a long day involving six hours in the car, attempting to get everything she needs accomplished, and still returning home feeling as if I’ve failed. Miserably.
I continue to miss my father, an amazing man of good humor and incredible faith, and my biggest cheerleader. He’s been gone nearly 2 years, but the hole he left hasn’t gotten any smaller.
I spent much of 2013 in the offices of doctors and specialists, between my daughter and my mother. I spent far too much time worrying. Anxious. Hiding. Looking at a life I didn’t recognize and didn’t like. Avoiding hard questions. Because I don’t like the answers, either.
If you had a great year, kudos to you.
But maybe, like me, you’re secretly celebrating the end of 2013; anxious for a fresh start even if it means painfully crawling over the wreckage of this past year. Because on the other side of that wreckage is the Real You.
So I raise my glass in a toast to the Real Us, whoever they may be. Because I’ll take Real over perfect any day.