At the end of 2016, I didn’t think any year could be worse than that one had been. Then 2017 showed up and, for most of the year, proved that things can almost always be worse.
I don’t write often anymore, though I should. I just haven’t had the time or the motivation much as of late.
2016, for me, was in many ways both the best and worst year of my life so far. The highs were incredible; the lows, excruciating. I’m trying to approach 2017 as a totally fresh start despite the fact that it’s not. Every day, week, month, and year is a continuation of the last one–and I know just enough to understand that the trials of the recent past can help me create a better future.
I’ve had a lot of blog hits in the last few days from various places I’ve called home, so I want to stress that I’m still alive, for starters. Things have just been moving at an insanely fast pace recently and I haven’t had time to do much of anything, let alone blog.
My grandmother passed away in the wee hours of Saturday morning, surrounded by her four children and her husband of nearly 41 years. I was in her bedroom, just the next room over from the living room where we and a hospice nurse had been tending to her since her release from the hospital just a couple of days earlier.
My mental health has been all over the map these last few weeks. I have had some incredible days in there alert, lively, cheerful, talkative, totally at peace with where my life has been and where it’s going. Unfortunately, that hasn’t been a frequent occurrence.
This will probably still be a long post because I don’t know how to keep anything brief.