Cabin fever.

Bronchitis and antibiotics and asthma inhalers.

Freezing temperatures (-25C the other night) or huge dumps of snow.

Haven’t done any writing in weeks.

Feeling lonely and exhausted and regretful.

An inglorious start to a new year.

This is where I’m supposed to bring it all together in some neat little package,  ‘staying positive’ or making it humorous or something like that. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in all that crap, but just now I need to allow myself to feel what I feel. How disappointed I am by the year behind me. How much it hurts and angers and humiliates me. (Too real?)

I need to recalculate, I know. I will. But I need to stop avoiding it; I think I’m going to sit with my sadness for a while. And I know I say this a lot, but … I’m going to see if it has anything to teach me.