In my first journal entry last year, I wrote “I hope for fewer stressors in the 2020s”. Ha ha ha ha ha—I am certainly not off to a good start there. I definitely did not forsee a global pandemic. I know I’m immensely privileged to have been able to weather it with relative ease. Sure, I’ve missed a lot of things I’d planned and people I’d wanted to spend time with and my anxiety has been spiking more often than it has in a long time, but I haven’t had to risk my health to go to a job or worry about losing my house. I lost opportunities, and I may have lost friends (time will tell on that one), and I’ve had many days when the things that usually would make me happy hold no interest. All minor issues in the grand scheme of things. It’s wearying to think there’s another six to nine to twelve months of this ahead, so I’m not going to make any resolutions. I’m just going to keep muddling along as best I can. I’ll probably set a reading goal, and I took a few photos today so I can do another 365 project if I decide to, but I’m not going to plan beyond that, I don’t think. Or maybe I should. I do like structure. So I’ll say I’m not going to plan beyond that for today. Tomorrow or next week or next month, who knows. I’m going to try and stay flexible; if I have a resolution, it’s that. Not quantifiable or measurable like a good goal should be, but like obscenity, I hope I’ll recognize it when I see it.
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