2018 was a year of many memorable firsts. My first blog award, my first time passing the next significant milestone on the bathroom scales and the first time I put a shitty nappy in the tumble dryer.
When I reflect on 2018…..actually I’m so deprived of sleep I can’t much that happened prior to yesterday.
What I do know is that there was fun and laughter and so much love in 2018.
But it was trying and dark at times too.
There were moments of jubilation when I was ready to take on the world. And there were moments when I silently and tearfully questioned my very existence.
But life isn’t supposed to be stagnant and emotionless. It’s a series of peaks and troughs, good days and bad, arguments and reconciliations, tears and peals of laughter, that are the markers of a life being lived.
I suppose what matters is reaching the end of a year and feeling happy to be alive. In a world of dizzy consumerism and being bombarded with messages that we need the newest model, the latest upgrade, the better, more expensive, version of everything, I reckon that simply feeling happy to have breath in your lungs is a victory.
Our eldest child asked me this morning what my New Year ‘revolutions’ were. I went to correct her then stopped. She makes a good point. Rather than fad diets that will see me elbow deep in Galaxy Minstrels by February, I’m planning a revolution.
It won’t be a big one like the pioneers in history who fought for the rights of the excluded and the forgotten.
It’s more of a quiet, personal uprising. A rebellion against old fears. A shedding of the stuffy shackles of caring what people think.
This week on Instagram I asked for advice from the writing community on how to overcome the worry that I will offend people with my words. I was overwhelmed by the lovely responses but the one that stood out was a message I received from one of my favourite authors, Stu Heritage, who simply told me to ‘F**k ‘em.’
He’s right. Anyone who doesn’t approve of you and doesn’t want to be a part of what you love doesn’t need to hang around in the periphery of your life proclaiming offence.
They can leave, they can ignore you, no one’s forcing them to stick around. And if they continue to be there, being offended and making you feel as though you’re not good enough, then, as Stu Heritage puts it, ‘f**k ‘em.’
Here’s to a year of being kind but refusing to dwell on the hasty, unfair judgement of others.
Here’s to a year of figuring out whose opinions matter and whose don’t.
Here’s to a year of accepting that it’s fine to be sad and to cry and to feel completely overwhelmed.
Here’s to a year of accepting that it’s also fine to revel in your own happiness and have nothing to do with those intent on spoiling it.
Here’s to a year of wiping bums and sobbing into our cold coffee because we never get a quiet moment alone
Here’s to all the tantrums, piss floods, nappy leakages, hair brushing trauma, chaotic living rooms, crisp crumbs, snots, giggles, tears, I’m sorrys and I love yous that await in 2019.