The Holidays are over! Long live the Holidays!
Hello. Happy New Year!
I’m breathing a sigh of relief this morning as I resume my normal activities (i.e., writing, researching, and planning.) Boy, it feels good to find my routine intact.
I love the holidays. I love Christmas. Each year I get so excited and giddy. And I’m glad it’s over. I learned that both feelings can coexist quite well.
I wasn’t planning on publishing anything special today aside from my usual Crumbs, but I got inspired (peer pressured) by all the roundup and 2023 goals out there, and I decided to do it too; aside from the fact that everybody does it, it’s also fun.
I compare new year lists to birthing plans: sure, people can make fun of it and disregard the exercise, but it’s also a beautiful way to figure out what you want to honor and respect in your life.
You go, little rock star.
I decided to focus on my professional and personal “Big Three” of 2022 and 2023. Call them (past) reflections, (future) intentions, or goals, they are a lovely way to acknowledge what went well and focus on what I want to carry with us into the new year.
I hope you enjoy.
2022 Reflections
Personal
Big One: Help
I got diagnosed with c-PTSD in late February 2022. I almost lost my life to it in June, started trauma therapy, quit my job, quit writing, and (almost) quit believing that I was ever going to get out of that hell hole.
It wasn’t my first time having to ask for help, but I did it anyway.
Some people responded with distance and disdain, but others—most—answered with care, love, intention, and a level of kindness I had never experienced in my life.
I not only owe my life to them (in a very literal sense) but also a renewed faith in a truly caring society. People are all we’ve got.
People are all we’ve got.
Big Two: Healing
I entered a new phase of my healing with trauma therapy and psychedelic. I don’t talk about the latter a lot because it’s controversial and still in motion (fragile), but the ceremonies I underwent allowed me to go from mere survival to life and, yes, to thriving.
I looked at my traumas and demons right in the face. I thought it would kill me. It didn’t.
My husband bought me sets of Legos to keep my mind occupied between flashback episodes, tucked me in bed often, and stepped up in his own self-care and role in the household: and I accepted that help.
I stopped believing the self-sacrificial motherhood and womanhood narrative and took (am taking) time for myself. All the time I need. It’s foreign and almightily freeing.
Big Three: Discomfort
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