I read somewhere recently (I can’t recall where) that it can be a good thing not to jump right into New Year’s resolutions in January, but to instead wait for February to begin. January is a weird transition time between the holidays (full of disrupted schedules), and the more mundane and monotonous days of late winter. There were lots of good points to this theory that resonated with me. I typically feel behind the game when January 1st rolls around because we’re always out of town and then trying to come home and settle in and push the reset button in the tiny little cracks and spaces around the work and school schedules that immediately start back up again. We’re almost halfway through January and I feel that we’ve accomplished half a year’s worth of tasks, but there’s an urgency there that I can’t quite justify or articulate. I don’t want the momentum to stop, so I’m having a hard time pushing the pause button. I don’t want to write about what I’m doing because then I’m not actually doing it. I just want January all to myself – to regain my footing and figure out where I’m headed this year.
So I’m taking that space for myself, but I can’t control everything in my path. M is sick with the flu, which will likely impact the schedule of his upcoming appendix removal that was slated for this Friday. I have a dozen things I’m involved with that need attention, but I can’t seem to catch up on the emails and the correspondence and the scheduling. We have our own deadlines with the house project that seemed doable until they didn’t. It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m tired and frustrated and impatient. I’ve pushed worry over M’s surgery to the back of my mind, but now that it’s here – and maybe on hold again – I’m realizing that the stress is hanging out there, even unacknowledged and ignored. I want the broken parts fixed, I want him healthy and home and healed. I want it over.
Transitions aren’t easy. And sometimes figuring out when I’m in the throes of one is the toughest part of all.