The thought of a new year repulses me.
For myself, personally, it will begin with family death. With a loss of hope in regards to employment. With fretting over getting my boyfriend through college. With quitting nicotine which I have held beloved for so long.
I will continue to suffer through winter sadness. Something about the holiday season makes me want to hide away, to ignore the existence of a world outside of my bed. I will continue having difficulty sleeping and waking. I will yearn to accomplish things and, despite an abundance of time, will put those very things on the bottom of my priority list.
Daunted. I will feel daunted by the very act of existing itself. Going to the grocery store. Picking out a pear that has ripened enough to eat it. Eating it before it becomes overripe and ends up in the compost. Not transferring the compost to the garden which is becoming overgrown with weeds. Forgetting how to remove the proverbial weeds from my daily functioning. Functioning only when a list has been made and the urgency of inking dashed lines through those items takes hold and raises my anxiety levels. Feeling overwhelmed by all of it. Daunted.
I embrace and fear change. It can be paralyzing. I am uncertain how to approach something I want to pour all of my warmth into at the same time as I want to pull it into shreds like mozzarella. I am smiling while waving the sockets of my knuckles. It seems easier to hide away and hope all of these things pass without my intervention. Asking to sleep away the realizations that all of these things could, after all, be of my own invention. And then? And then moving onto the new year, chest bared menacingly and arms opened naively.
Forgive me for this introduction. Behind fear is the concept that at other times we are safe. Sunshine and sweetness is in there. Somewhere. I'm certain.
