I don’t like a word for the year. There’s a story to this, of course. I chose words of the year before, in previous years (2012, 2013, and 2016 to be precise), and they have jinxed me. I don’t believe in jinxing, but I’m pretty sure that’s what happened! So now I don’t like having a word for the year.
This year, there were a few things I wanted to change and others I wanted to invest in, and as I was thinking about it all I realised there was a common thread that would hold my sanity in place and support me in doing what I wanted to do – acceptance.
This isn’t my word for the year, it isn’t, I refuse it. What it is though, is my quiet moment two second meditation grounding force of a mantra, in a year that has me thinking more strategically whilst so much outside of my control is changing.
I need to accept that some evenings I will achieve nothing beyond sitting on the sofa binge watching This is us. I will be too tired to even knit and that’s ok (This is us is an awesome series, so not all is lost!).
I need to accept that some mornings I will not be able to set the alarm and go for a run before the house wakes up because nobody has really slept. Like, at all.
I need to accept this season of life that I’m loving so deeply – hello little toddler hands holding my face with utter love and admiration! – whilst working full-time comes with not having full control of my time.
I need to accept that even though the internet is filled with people working full-time jobs during nap time, I will never be that person. Instead, I will be the person under the sweetest toddler or the person walking said sleeping toddler around in his pram for a nap on the go.
I need to accept that all my yearly plans will need to start in the second trimester, when the fog that is winter and its all-consuming flu have passed. For they shall pass, even if I can’t see it right now!
