I have not been a kind, decent person in 2016. It has been a rough year, full of mountains and molehills of my own making. Pressure-cooked and puffed-up, I spent so much time wasted on anger. Not just anger…pure fury. Imagine sticking your hand into a piping hot vat of water, so hot you feel cold. I was the water, and everyone I found fault with? Burned.
Of course, the justifications were endless: they were [racist, sexist, antagonistic, too cynical, too optimistic, too rude, etc.]. I couldn’t get over the small stuff, heck, I sweat out the big stuff too. Anxiety when pulled too tight acts as a tourniquet around your heart. Sometimes, you are fit to bursting with something; anger or sadness in my case. It is not the most ideal place to be, especially for an educator-to-be.
I don’t know where this chip on my shoulder came from, only that the block I’ve been around never seems to be the same block. I am getting lost somewhere in my own brain in the pavement cracks. When did I always start looking down on myself and others?
I don’t know that I believe in new year resolutions, but I do believe in a strong will with a clear purpose. For 2017 and beyond, I hope to dwell less on anger and hurt. I hope this blog to be less of a dialogue of dread and more of a catalogue of surmounting joy. Counting my blessings and what not. I guess I’ve always associated happiness witha kind of ignorant bliss. Surely wise people can never be truly happy. Indeed, as always, I am proved the fool. Joy is deepened with wisdom and suffering.
Your Humble Narrator,