NEW YEAR, SAME OLD STORY

I was getting out of the bath tub, after some self care bath bomb action, when I slammed my foot into the porcelain soap dish, mounted into the tile wall. I was trying to shake some water off my foot, and I guess I did it with more enthusiasm than I should've. I screamed "WHAT THE F*CK ELSE, UNIVERSE?!" I was having a bad day. Kind of a bad new year. The pressure that the first of the year should be the most efficient and productive and profound, resulted in a decent bruise on the top of my foot.

What is it about the new year that gets everyone's knickers in a twist? Isn't January 1 just like any other day? Maybe, we just need an excuse to "start over" with our "new me" and "new lifestyle" and "new habits". I've found that if we make "resolutions", we likely won't keep them. Goals should be SMART, and they should be things that EXCITE you! If they don't, then the only motivation you have to attain them, is the avoidance of public shame and guilt, right?

Yet, every year, I make them.

I promise myself to be more gentle and more patient. To be a more calm mother, and to put myself first. I promise to loose weight and 'for good this time!'.

Last year was the first year I wanted Christmas to be over with when January came around. Now, in 2019, I'm getting the same feelings. I did a deep dive into this, and I think it's because Christmas never lives up to the expectation I have of it in my head, so I want it gone when the 25th passes. I tell myself I'll try again next year.

I started this year with crippling anxiety. Panic attacks, and restless nights. I'm looking for a new psychiatrist and doing some hard work with my psychologist. At the end of last year, things with Bubs, medically, got more complicated again. His dentition became a catastrophe and his reflux was as bad as ever. Long story short, now he's scheduled for extractions on the 17th. I feel more mom guilt than I probably EVER have.

I'm trying to focus hardcore into self care, and on filling up my cup. I give and give and give at work, then I come home and give and give and give some more. It's just not sustainable. I have a plan for post-op, so this doesn't happen again, and so I can minimize any damage that I can.

My focus on my home is also at the forefront of priorities for me. I need my apartment to be a sanctuary. I need to come home, and think, "ahhhhh". I need to feel safe here when I'm experiencing anxiety, and maybe most of all, I need it to stop being another headache and another thing on my to-do list. Right now it's a mess. It looks like a laundry bomb went off in it.

I don't know why we all feel the need to start on January 1st. But I'm going to start again. Right now. With all the grace I can muster, and I'll be doing my damndest not to kick any more bathroom fixtures.

It's not too late. It's never too late to start. What are you going to do?