New Year. New me. It's not a New Year's resolution. It's a goal. I just picked New Year's for the start date. Last year was a difficult year. I mean, it wasn't all bad. But it wasn't great. I felt like I was sliding downhill and couldn't find my footing to stop the slide. I felt like I lost a little bit of myself. Maybe it didn't even happen last year. Maybe it happened before that and I just hadn't noticed. But I know I like the old me better than the new me.
The old me was really organized and had a memory. She made idiotically detailed lists of things to do and visualed making them happen. And then she did. She fit in more than one pair of jeans and would never have considered hanging onto a pair of maternity shorts because they were the only comfortable pair she owned. She was also way funnier than the new me. And she would never have gone to bed before midnight last night. I miss her.
I need to get a grip on things. Crying in my car while I ate a McDonald's ice cream cone was not good. I kinda sort of don't even respect that girl. Laying in the bathtub wondering if I'm manic depressive was only slightly worse. I mean, I don't think I am. I'm just sort of floundering. And some days I scrape myself off the floor better than others. But identifying mood swings in yourself is disturbing.
I contemplated not even writing about all this. It's always sort of depressing to tell people you feel like you need to make a life change. Especially putting it in writing. Because what if you get derailed and fail? Then it's there for everyone to see.
But I decided I'm okay with that. It's important to be honest. Like people who say they're okay with their weight but refuse to reveal numbers or pants size. If it's who you are and you've accepted it, talking about it shouldn't be a problem. It's okay to have struggles. It's okay to be trying to find your way. I am. This year. New Year. New Me. Here's hoping. No. Better yet. Here's planning.