I haven’t felt particularly inclined to do an end-of-the-year post, but then, I suddenly was. A little late, but if you know one thing about me, it’s that I work on my own timetable. It’s irritating to everyone else who doesn’t live my own personal time zone, which is everyone. Love me, love my screwed-up internal clock.
This year has been a really weird one. Lots of good stuff, plenty of bad stuff, even more boring stuff. Today was my due date from the pregnancy I lost in June. I haven’t really been dwelling on it, but I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t been on my mind lately. You can’t help but look back at the past year and try to encapsulate it. It’s what starting a new year is all about. Try as I might, I can’t even imagine having a kid today. Literally today. Our house isn’t even fit for a baby to visit, never mind live in! I know we would have gotten everything pulled together and we’d be as ready as we’d ever be, but it still blows my mind to think of how amazingly different our lives would be right now, at this very moment. It’s like trying to envision a parallel universe. It’s a not-so-subtle reminder that life is a series of events very loosely strung together. Something happens, you react, something else happens, you do your best to deal with it, something else happens, you say “What?!?” and so on and so on and so on. And all the while, the world keeps spinning, life moves on, and the only thing you can do is roll with it until . . . well, until you don’t have to any more. There were endless possibilities for what “January-8th-me” would have been up to, who I would be, where my energies would be focused. Two of them are enough for me to try to work out, but every day, every hour, every minute, something can happen to change your direction entirely. Weird.
I used to scare myself silly when I was little thinking about this sort of thing. I would imagine what would have happened if my parents hadn’t met when they did, if at all. What if I had been “made” on a different day? Would I still be me? Would I be at all? Who would I be, if not me? Maybe I actually was the result of someone being conceived on a different day. Maybe I was actually someone else entirely, and yet still me and I would never know it! Who was I? Who did the other kids in the playground see when they saw me? Did they even see me? And then I would repeat this over and over until I was completely freaked out. “I am me. I am me. I am me.” and from there, it became “I am. I am. I am . . . “ I felt very small.
And other times, I would say the word “turtle” over and over again until I no longer had any idea what the word meant. It would seem that I’ve spent a fair amount of time messing with my own head.
Anyway, as much as I didn’t want to, my mind has labeled 2005 as the year I had three miscarriages. I can’t help it, I’m a labeler. 1994 was the year Kurt Cobain died. 2000 was the year I turned 31 (I had been calculating since childhood!). 2003 was the year I got married. Heh, 1992 is simply labeled “grunge” and I have no real idea what happened that year. But I feel like I can leave 2005 behind me and move on knowing that I did my best with the challenges that I was faced with and enjoyed the good stuff as much as I could. I leave it with a strange mixture of melancholy, relief, sentimentality, satisfaction, and a healthy pinch a drama-queendom. As ever, there is always room for improvement. Who knows what 2006 will be – could be anything. Isn’t that wild? ANYTHING. And that goes for all of you. Any-freaking-thing. Put that on your needles and knit it!
Here’s to a new year full of endless possibilities! May 2006 just be cool and not get all up in your grill.