Halfway through every year, it suddenly hits me that six out of the twelve months of the year have passed me by, and I am overcome with the undeniable urge to make the rest of the year as amazing as I can, given my current circumstances. You would think that I would remember this feeling of lost time come January; but I don’t. Every year, January to June and July to December are two different phases of my life, quite like the lunar cycle. The first half is generally fraught with some big change, emotional/physical/environmental – and being the typical Air sign that I am, I get caught up in the flurry and madness of it all, often forgetting to plant my feet on the ground.
Come July, I usually find myself bruised and bristling, muttering to myself ‘that’s the last time I do that’ (spoiler alert: it’s not), and resolve to make better life choices, to not let people close, and just resume the one-woman show that is (generally) my life. This is the 26th year of my existence, and it’s been exactly the same as the 25 years before it.
January was awash with change and excitement, and unbridled hope that was not yet weighed down by reality. You know what the crazy thing is? Somewhere in the back of my mind, I can feel that this is not going to last. The voice inside of me (that I may or may not choose to ignore, depending upon the how deep I’m swimming in the ocean of denial) keeps whispering warnings, cautioning me to be careful. I am never careful. Or rather, never careful enough. The cycle of disappointment and bad faith repeats itself, and a heartbeat later, the date on the calendar says June 30. I find myself standing in the same spot as the year before, looking around at What Was, the mess that remains in its wake, and how tricky and/or exhausting the road to What Will Be is going to be. There is a lot of crying, feeling helpless and hopeless – a new addition to that routine is video calling my mother to vent and rant as she shakes her head and tells me it’s all going to be okay – until I wipe away my tears, wash my face and do the thing I do best: reclaim control.
So yes friends, it’s the time of the year again, where I’ve been alternating between I Got This and Why Did This Happen To Me mindsets – and let me tell you, it’s never fun. My usual tendency to feel better after burying my nose in a phenomenal book also lessens, leaving me to my own devices, and getting out of this funk the hard way. Plans have been made, routines mapped out, a lot of coffee consumed. I know I will be okay, and I shall soon have another story to tell about how mean 2021 was, and how it made me stronger.
It is what it is, friends. The circle of life, the wheel in the sky – call it what you want.
I’ll see you soon.