To 2017, whether it bends or breaks me

Frustration is finally getting to sit down to blow off the dust on my blog, writing a post and then having my computer crap out on me and losing the entire post. 

Defeat is not even being happy with what I'd written in the first place at all, but hardly finding any will to dust off my knees and start again. (It is by the skin of my teeth that this is here at all.) 

Melancholy is waking up this morning with a heavy heart over the uncertainty of my future; over reflecting on a 2016 that was shaky at best, and over foreseeing a 2017 that'll surely be wrought with struggle. 

I've never been particularly good at picking up my pieces when they're splayed all over the floor like shards of glass. I'm the kind of person who takes her half-empty glass of water, accidentally spills it, and collapses onto the floor in a melodramatic mess of emotion because I can't help but focus all of my attention at the shards floating around in the water I spilled but never particularly wanted to drink anyway. 

I see joy, I see blessing and I see light in abundance, but not particularly so until something in particular gently lifts my chin and reminds me to look around me and inhale deeply and with intention. My forte is great gratitude; my nature is cautious and protective; and my default is often that Tina Belcher state of overwhelm — her anxious moan and all. 

Never lost on me, though, is this beacon of light – this girl of mine. I've never been one to make new year's resolutions, and certainly this year is no exception, but the least, the best and the greatest thing I can do for myself and for my family is to just keep going. Whether I feel like I've conquered Everest, I'm wading through the Swamp of Sadness or some hybrid of the two, I'm doing a service to myself and to all others by moving onward and forward; so my gratitude, my energy and my very hope is funneled into this tiny human – my eternal Keep Going.

Happy New Year to each of you; whether you're filled with bright joy, with uncertainty, with apathy or with despair, know that you're not alone. I am, somehow, a great conglomeration of all of it; and I stand willfully beside you. Here's looking ahead to 2017 with some irrational certainty that it will do everything in its power to slaughter me, but equally so with a resolve to show it and each of you that I am somehow perfectly made up of water, of honey and of steel.