2023. Twenty. Twenty. Three. The year two thousand and twenty three. I just can’t.
Last year we limped into 2022 carrying with us the surreal existence of the previous few years. Years that brought us all disbelief. Grief. Frustration. Anger even.
Exhausted from trying to re-create a semblance of normal whilst nursing our collective mental health.
Let’s not even start on the politics of it all. Boris. Trump. Putin. I mean, just what?
Dragging ourselves into a shiny new year. A year which made promises to be easier. To be play nice. To allow us the chance to throw away our ‘handle with care’ signs and be less fragile.
A year to catch up
Yet 2022 was the year we felt the need to ‘catch up’. To replace the time lost and whether we consciously processed it or not, to reclaim all other lost things. Every. Single. Lost. Thing.
Maybe for you it was relationships. Maybe work? Education? Or simply life.
Do we throw ourselves into busy business to make us forget more readily? Will being hectic help us undo the belief we missed out? That we were cheated?
Forget the fatigue caused by being constantly on alert just trying to stay alive. Trying to keep our children safe. Trying to follow all the rules.
The many rules made for us but apparently not enforceable for those in charge. 2022 might have allowed us to break free a little, but there were still a lot of wounds to heal.
Plenty time for a little parental guilt. Did I manage to guide the kids through this catch up year? Did I pour enough love into them, to ensure they knew they were loved?
Let’s add a little boss guilt. Did I manage to support the staff and champion them in their choices and goals? Did I manage to convince my frazzled mental health it no longer needed to run on fumes and it could now catch its breath, pause and heal a little?
Did I remember to thank my medical team for keeping me safe? I know I thanked my pills for working, every single time I took them. Amidst all these doubts, amongst all the chaos I needed to find some peace, find some quiet.
Finishing the family list
Turning to the familiar always brings me comfort and joy so that’s what I did. If you had the misfortune to bump into us during the last week of 2022, I apologise for dashing by.
We brought out our annual ‘family list’ and set to finishing it. With gusto. Our lists written every year on December 27 with the intention of trying new things and having mini adventures. Revisited a year later, giving only four days to tick off our missed goals.
Scores on the doors. The whole family list had 17 on it. We collectively managed nine leaving six to go. Individual lists next.
The mister 9/16. Biggest kid 8/16. Middle kid 7/14. Smallest kid 8/14. Me 11/19. An average of 54%. Hardly inspirational so time to improve on it, so as not to be embarrassed by our poor efforts.
Grudgingly, I had to accept I was unlikely to loose five stone in four days or learn conversational Spanish. But I could stop killing my plants, or at least sneakily buy new ones.
What lies ahead?
What were our 2022 highlights? What did we love enough to want to do again?
We’ve done this for 10 years now and I LOVE will be full this year.
We accidentally made our own annual tradition by writing on napkins during a pizza dinner a decade ago. It’s always nice to look back on how the year has gone.
Do you believe that luck exists? I do. But the chance of its existence exponentially increases by choosing to share, support, connect, promote and raise others up.
By being selective over people I spend time with. By surrounding myself with people who pour into my cup as much as I pour into theirs. THIS is how things are accomplished. THIS is how love and joy are brought to my table.
So in 2023, let’s be wise to whom we give our love and energy to. As well as pouring love into everything you do, but remember to pour it into yourself too.
Alongside a cocktail or two.
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