Around this time last year I was very optimistic. Not a natural state for me. I had just concluded one of the best Christmases of my life, the writing was flowing, I had numerous plans and ambitions dancing in my head and life looked really stable. A quiet year where I would accomplish so much.
The word accomplish can be taken in so many ways. My quiet year ended almost with New Years, as a jaw dropping municipal bill made me reevaluate my current living arrangements. So we bought a house. Moved. And I ended up back in a brace. Then we visited the grand ol' US of A, where I did everything the doctors suggested - like REST - and came back noticing my arm was only worse.
The new house and visiting The States were not bad things. But everything comes with a price. Even if my arm didn't play up, these things cost time and I'd be lying to say my writing didn't suffer. I've picked up more rejection letters this year than I have ....well, since I wrote my first novel. It's been real. Or humbling. Or something.
Short Story Day South was fun. And wild. And crazy. As was the launch of The Edge of Things. An experience I am grateful for even if I was half asleep.
I can also say we survived Grade 1 & Thing2's new nursery (even got her accepted into Grade RR which was far from a guarantee).
We lived through teeth insanity, mysterious sweaty flu and the chicken pox. One member of the family had to go through special TB testing after crazy cough and not-perfect chest x-rays caused some people to get a wee bit excited. (Family member has been given the all clear, thank you very much.) As to surviving my arm - well, you don't die from lack of working limbs, so there we go. And as to how I feel about it all, that totally depends on what day it is. On a good day I believe my physio, on a bad day the surgeon.
The emotional roller coaster I've been on has been challenging. Insane. Slightly depressing. Filled with belly aching laughs, tons of hugs and kisses and a brilliant core group of friends. Thankfully I've had the dojo to blow off the steam. I may be the equivalent of the club's mascot. In fact, the other week I announced the kick bag and I had eloped and as partners we would never be separated. To say my contribution to the club is mostly I'm in the way would be an understatement. But the exertion keeps me sane. Writing, this frigg'in swimming (which to quote physio is something we 'love because we have no other choice'), are all activities done in isolation. I am self aware enough to know that just because I am socially awkward doesn't mean my socially awkward self shouldn't be out and about. Even if that means hiding in the corner of a dojo where most people chat in a language I can't understand. (Have to work on that, too.)
So this is the year I tip my hat off to my dojo. Thank you for keeping my mood somewhat stable. In the meantime, may I never have to live another year like 2011 any time soon.
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