I’m a wee bit late for my usual New Year’s inventory. A chronic list-maker, I did take note of everything I felt I had accomplished over 2014’s long, lo-o-ong months, but it felt a bit too smug to post here. I can only abide smugness, even in myself, in very small doses.
Let’s say I’ve accomplished most things I had chalked in for 2014, and then some, and keep it at that. Most of all, and most importantly, I no longer feel the awful, creeping malaise, ennui, and mental/phyiscal health issues that coloured most of the spring and winter seem to have gone, and I worked hard as hell to get here.
You wouldn’tve heard it from me here, but summer’s come and nearly gone again. No time to write about summer adventures, too busy having them. It’s only now, on a foggy day with the threat of drizzling rain that I can sit back and think about the last few months, and even now, I’m running out the door. The one year anniversary of our move to New Zealand has come and gone, and the one year anniversary of buying the best little cottage on a quiet street in a good neighbourhood is advancing quickly upon us.
I may or may not have spent the last year in a blur, as I think may be common for most people coming out of completing a postgraduate degree in a foreign country. What now? and Where next? were thoughts that often crossed my mind, although more finely focussed than most, as we were three months away from our trans-hemisphere relocation. The specifics remained to be seen, and that drove me to distraction. To not be able to plan, to deal with the unknown, is not one of my strengths. I prefer to plan for all eventualities and have my situation lined up well in advance. Odd personality trait for someone who has moved to England twice, and chose to move to a country halfway across the world, sight unseen.
I’ve learned a great deal about relaxing, about letting go, in the last year. I’ve also exercised my ability to say “No” more than ever – a huge achievement for me. I once agreed to everything and anything, feeling the weight of obligation and expectation, and found myself largely miserable and exhausted.
I celebrated my first summer birthday and feel mostly ambivalent, but with an arguably positive slant, towards newly turning 27 years old. We ate enchiladas on the back deck and reveled in being just where we are.