In January ‘20, I approached turning 50 with such joy and hope.
Knee deep in my doctorate I had a plan. It was a good plan, but the world went sideways while I stood motionless then sprinted into the madness. The last two years I’ve worked, overworked, gave too much of myself to keep others sane, while my own sanity dwindled. They bawled and demanded, and sucked the joy out of my days until the rot spread to my nights.
I’yet to mourn what could have been, that dream I dreamt for so long, my doctorate and what would come after
I’ll still struggle to find stillness for a while, walk through the days too fast, erring too often. In the coming year, though, I hope to slow my mind and approach each day with intentionality, approach each interaction with care.
I hope to return to that girl who drew and wrote and loved wildly.
