No Resolutions

                                                                  It's another shitty moon pic. 

The last for the year

This year didn't go as planned, but it went just the same. It went the way it was supposed to. The way it was intended to go. I was supposed to learn hard fucking lessons. I was meant to grow, and be rid myself of toxicity. Above all else, I needed to live, grow, and learn. I needed to reinvest into myself. 

I lost myself well before this year. I lost myself a long time ago. I'm still finding who I am, what I want, where I want to be, but not without difficulty. To say I trip and fall, and stumble a bit is an understatement. I fall. A lot. I fuck up. I still put my neck out there at the risk of the ax. I'm working on it. 

But I'm not making some 'fall upon thy sword' declaration for 2021. Growth shouldn't be counted by years. We aren't defined by tree rings and calendars, but rather by how we've loved. How hard we've laughed, and how we work on being better people. How we've been brave when all we've wanted to do is to crumble, and fade away. Right now is not a time to fade, but to shine. To allow ourselves the chance to feel the pain, but know that its temporary. To never forget the lessons that caused the pain. To learn from life, every.single.day. 

After making a hilarious confession to a kindred spirit today, the one that goes like "next dude who reads my book will be the love of my life". You know, that crazy dumb stupid thought. Admittedly, I've held on to that for 3 years now, more so now that I'm single. Writing is a huge part of me, and while it may sound trivial, if someone takes the time to actually read the story thus far, then that must mean they are truly interested in me, right? We laughed, but she understood. She is also a crazy intuitive soul, who had no problem telling me that she knows that I just want to be loved, and I take crumbs when I deserve the whole cake. While yes, I deserve someone with a vested interest in me, but I need more than that. That's when it hit me. I don't sing in front of people. Well, the only person that knows, truly, what I sound like is my son. How will I know I've met the one?

I'll sing in front of him. 

This means I've been afforded trust, love, safety, humor, and humility. Someone who I can truly feel myself around. Someone who will not make me want to fade away, and retreat within. So, it has nothing to do with reading my book, but rather letting me simply be me. 

Maybe this year I'll sing. 

                                          I've been listening to this a lot lately. On repeat. Go figure.