This is my last post of the year, and I don’t have much to say. I already shared my writing accomplishments over the course of 2021, and I don’t have much to report on the personal front because let’s be real, it has not been a good year. Really, it has been one smack in the face after another this year, and I am fine with 2021 being over.
What annoys me at the moment though is that this December there seem to be a lot of folks posting about how 2022 is going to be “their year,” and don’t get me wrong, I hope so, but c’mon. We’re still in a pandemic. It’s a lot more likely you’re going to have to go back to remote working/learning at some point, always have to wear a mask, and watch a bunch more people get sick and die. So, I guess I’m not really feeling the positivity, y’know?
Don’t worry, I have an appointment with my therapist on Monday.
In the meantime, I just have to pull out the good ol’ Emotional Toolbox. The ET is a concept I came up with many years back, essentially a mental list of my coping mechanisms. It has little tricks for panic attacks, like sit in front of the fan, or pet your fuzzy blanket. Then it has more complex plans for fighting anxiety and depression, like what I call the “Ross Method,” in which you break a task down into itty-bitty pieces so that it is accomplished easily. One of my favorite tools in the ET is the “Silver Linings Search,” in which you find the good in the bad. This always helps me out, and this is what I am using right now as I write this blog.
What good things happened in my garbage year? Well, I had my surgery, which helped my tummy a little. And my husband left a very toxic work environment. My dad remains cancer-free. My mother is getting her foot surgery. My sister moved out on her own. We got to have Christmas with my grandma. We didn’t get sick.
These are all good things.
Now, I don’t make New Year’s resolutions, except for my annual declaration that I shall read more. That might actually happen this year though, as I have both a brand-new Kindle and upcoming cataract surgery. I don’t think I will make any huge accomplishments, except perhaps releasing my mini-chap, which could happen sooner than I think. Though, lack of accomplishment might be my depression talking. In the beginning of the pandemic, I was ok. In fact, I was ok for a long time, watching as my healthy-brained friends lost their minds when faced with the sudden onset of anxiety and depression. I was peachy. I was a pro.
Lately, though, it seems it’s starting to wear on me. Like, I don’t know if it’s Christmas letdown or what, but I am just not in the mood. I mean, I try to write an end of the year post, I wanted it to be uplifting, but here we are, discussing depression again.
Because that’s how she works, my friends. I never get a day off.
Anyway, if you want to go make 2022 “your” year, more power to you. I hope you succeed. I will be cheering you on. Me, my goal is both simple and infinitely more difficult: get out of bed in the morning, and carry on. That’s my New Year’s resolution.