We survived the holidays. Whew. Don’t get me wrong–I love the holidays. Christmas is my absolute favorite time of year, and I will never tire of its magic. But it’s also exhausting. Especially when you’re pregnant, as I learned this year.
I put off any concerns that can wait until after Christmas. Like blogging. And thinking about the fact that I’m going to have a baby this year. You know, typical stuff. But 2019 is here, and I can procrastinate no longer. Time to put away the magic, and get back into business.
First up: my word for 2019. Like many others, I enjoy choosing a word to focus on for my upcoming year. In the past I’ve used such great choices as purpose and … ummm … others. I’m drawing a blank (as usual, I blame pregnancy brain). On New Year’s Eve, I chose Resilience for 2019. I had a steep nose-dive into severe depression that day, but I survived. I realized that 2019 is going to hold some tough times for me. New babies are wonderful, but they’re hard. And I have the fun complication of postpartum depression to look forward to. So, when I have those dark days, I’ll think about the fact that I am resilient and that my survival rate for dark days is 100%. No way I’m messing up that kind of record.
2019 will be the year of Resilience.
Also like others, I enjoy setting goals for the new year. I’m usually ambitious in this, but with baby #3 coming my way in April, I’m going to take a more modest approach. I really only have two goals:
- Blog once a month. Yes, that little. But a big part of resiliency is being realistic and recognizing my abilities.
- Get my WIP off to beta readers in September. Originally I was hoping to send it at the beginning of April. I won’t be writing much that month anyway–might as well make it a productive month somehow! But, while my first draft was the strongest one I’ve written, it’s still a first draft. It needs a lot of work. And I have a ton of other things on my plate, like getting ready for this baby (ugh, I sound like a broken record but such is life when you’re pregnant) and, OH YEAH, keeping my other two boys alive. And all of the mundane duties that come with being a responsible adult.
So that’s what I’ve got so far. Sometimes you’re the bull rider, going big with one hand in the air like stylish mofo. And sometimes you’re a spectator, just trying to find a comfortable spot and not spill your drink down your shirt. The trick is knowing which you’re capable of and accepting it with grace. That’s maturity. That is the key to resilience.