This is the year my baby was born.
Everything is connected to that: I quit my job, became a full-time artist. Let go of a lot of things. Learned to make do with very little sleep, accepted that I will probably never get all the things done that I want to get done. I pushed my body to the furthest physical extreme possible and I am okay. I learned about pain. I fell in deeper love with my husband, learned more about intimacy and partnership. Bought a house. Made that house a home. Made new friends. Friendships I already had became closer and deeper. My body changed. My mind changed. Everything changed.
I am 31-years-old.
I’m anxious about where things are going politically in our country, and doing my best to make revolution in my own small ways. I’m recognizing that these problems have been here a long time, and we are all responsible for making them better. I am a feminist now more than ever.
I am trying to be better. But also kinder to myself and knowing that where I am, who I am, is enough, is good, is wonderful in fact.
I am trying to say “sorry” less.
I am cooking more.
If something scares me I am doing it anyway.
I am ignoring parenting books/articles.
I am grieving.
I am reminding myself how to live with uncertainty, how to be open, how to let the light in.