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Since my birthday is in October, I like to think of that as my new year, using the time between then and January 1st as a "soft opening" of sorts, when I play with new ideas, plan new projects, lay the foundation for the actual new year so I have a head start on those goals.
This year? Not so much.
I have no idea what 2018 will look like. It's all vague and blurry, like the landscape viewed through a steamed-up window. Ghostly shapes emerge - a big writing project, some smaller ones, an exercise routine, a plan to manage the anxiety and other issues - but all their edges are soft, smeared. And if I can't see them clearly, how will I know how far away they are? How will I know how to get there? And will I even recognize them when - if - I do?
These last few months have been rough, and I'm hoping December will be a time of reflection, of quiet, of clean-out and clean-up. Maybe I'll even take a squeegee to that window so I can finally get a good look at all the amazing possibilities that are on the other side.